They’d tortured her.
“Her name was Sherry.” Charlie let out a deep, pained exhale. “I hadn’t seen her in over thirty years. I knew her back then-on the ranch… She’s-”
“I know who she was.” I looked up at him. “It’s Katya.”
He just stood there staring at me, his eyes wide. Then he sank onto the couch and ran his hand through his ponytailed hair. “
“Both of you pointed the finger at Houvnanian. And the ones who went with him down to Santa Barbara. You helped the police in their investigation?”
Again, he gave me the slightest nod. Then he looked up, befuddled. “How do you possibly know all about this?”
“It doesn’t matter how I know. What matters is what we do about it now. You’re who they want, Charlie. Greenway. Zorn. Evan. Sherry… This has all been leading up to you. For what you did. They’re torturing you, just like they did to this woman. By killing off the things you love.”
Charlie rubbed his brow in anguish. He leaned forward and picked up the photos, leafed through them again, pressing his lips in sadness and a held-in anger. “She was a beautiful person, Jay. She wouldn’t have hurt a fly. Look at her. The kind of people who could do this…”
“You already know the kind of people, Charlie. We were with one the other day. But now you have to step back. Out of the prison you’ve been in. You have to help me bring them down.”
Charlie nodded, exhaling a breath that might have been in him thirty years. “There’s something else…”
He went over to the chest and dug around in the back of a drawer. He came back with something wrapped in a blue towel and handed it to me.
“How long have you known?” I asked as I took away the towel and stared at what was inside.
“That first week. After you came to dinner. It was in the trash.”
“You could have told me,” I said, and Charlie simply nodded, sorry.
I was staring at a black Nike sneaker.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Susan Pollack watched from the woods, smoking. Her car was hidden safely around the block from the apartment house.
At around one P.M., she saw Charlie and his brother pull up.
Chase.
The two of them stayed in the car and talked for a while before going in. Though far away, something in Chase’s hanging head and tormented expression gave her a feeling of delight. It was too bad that his nosy brother and his whore of a wife had escaped the little present at the market earlier.
It had made her giddy, watching the two of them fighting for their lives in the flaming car. As it was, just hearing the bitch’s screams, seeing the shell-shocked looks of panic and fear on their terrified faces, had almost been enough. She knew there would be other times for them. And soon.
Her blood stirred with an exhilaration she had not felt for many years. Susan, that shell of a dried-up woman, who had dutifully done what was asked of her, was dead now.
But Mags was very much alive.
She saw movement coming from the car. Charlie and his brother got out and went inside.
Her thighs felt alive, moist for the first time in years.
Chapter Sixty
A short while later, Sherwood knocked on the apartment door and I spotted him through the blinds.
I was glad he had come alone. Charlie had barely moved in twenty minutes, sunk into the couch, his head in his hands, staring into space.
I let him in.
“You all right?” he asked, giving me a look that was different from any I had seen from him before.
“Yeah. Thanks.” I nodded grimly, blowing out my cheeks.
“And Gabriella? I checked at the hospital.”
“She’s doing okay too. Take a seat.”
He glanced at Charlie, lowering himself on the threadbare ottoman. “You said you had something important for me to see?”
“I think you’ll think so, Sherwood.” I handed him the photos Charlie had shown me of the woman named Sherry. He leafed through them, stoically and detached at first, then wincing once or twice as he grew increasingly somber. “Who is she?”
I looked at Charlie to reply, but he just stared straight ahead.
“Her name was Sherry,” I answered. “She was a friend of my brother’s from a long time ago. They were together back then. On the Riorden Ranch.”