Monday Mourning Part 55

My lids clamped down. I listened to the liquid sound of a terrible death.

Seconds later I heard another clunk, receding footsteps, then the slamming door.

I opened my eyes. An empty coffee can lay by the baseboard.

Had Pomerleau gone for more gasoline? Where? An outside shed? How long had her previous trip taken? One minute? Two?

My mind zeroed in on one thought.

Get out!

Strobe images. Anne. Pomerleau. A rope circling Tawny McGee's wrists.

Was McGee tied up? Were her feet bound? I'd stroked one ankle, felt nothing. A shard of hope.

"Tawny."

Silence.

"Tawny."

Movement in the chair?

I raised my head. The room was a shadowy pool, the furnishings jagged shapes in the darkness.

"'Q' is going to burn the house. We have to get away."

An intake of breath?

"I know what 'Q' did to you."

The back door slammed. Feet clumped toward us. I lowered my head.

Through slitted eyes I watched Pomerleau enter with a new can and soak the secretary and couch. When the can emptied, she tossed it to the floor and disappeared for another.

"No one knows we're here, Tawny."

The silence made the room seem darker, more deadly.

"No one will come for us. We must help ourselves."

No response.

"If I slide closer, can you untie me?"

Silence.

"Are you able to walk?"

It was like talking to the dead.

Frantic, I struggled with my bindings, bucking and twisting until my skin felt raw. The knots held.

The back door slammed again.

I relaxed, closed my eyes.

Pomerleau returned with more accelerant.

Dear G.o.d. Where was Anne? She wasn't in this room. Could I get Anne and McGee out? Would we die before emergency crews could respond?

Should I talk to Pomerleau? Could I form an argument, craft a thought that might buy us some time?

Did it matter? The house had been searched and found empty. I hadn't told Ryan I was coming. Would Charbonneau get my message?

Tears pushed hard. I ached to rip at my bindings, to spring free and grab Pomerleau, to shut down this impostor for a human being.

I lay still and waited.

The smell of gas was strong now. I tasted bile, felt spasms under my tongue.

Another can hit the floor. I watched Pomerleau's feet round the corner.

This time the rear door didn't slam.

I tracked the footsteps. Hallway. Back room.

"Tawny, we have to move!" I hissed.

It was hopeless. I was going to have to act on my own.

Arching and contracting my back, I strained with every fiber to free my ankles from my wrists. The knots held. I wanted to cry from pain and frustration.

Pomerleau's footsteps echoed again in the hall, then receded into an adjacent room. Seconds later they were closing in on the parlor.

I settled to the floor.

Too late.

The footsteps. .h.i.tched, then sped toward the armchair. I heard a mewing, more kitten than human, then the footsteps veered toward me.

"So, my little dormice are both awake."

It was pointless to remain pa.s.sive. Summoning all my adrenaline-induced strength, I rolled onto my knees and looked up.

Pomerleau was an ebony cutout in the murky gloom. A cutout holding a coffee can. The room reeked of gasoline.

Fear rocketed from nerve ending to nerve ending.

Empathize? Cajole? Accuse? Beg?

"Where's my friend?" Had Anne gotten away somehow?

Hideous leer from Pomerleau. "She didn't last. She fell through the looking gla.s.s."

Heartsick, I spat out, "Catts didn't murder those girls. You did."

When Pomerleau stepped closer, a single arrow of gray illuminated her face. "Murder?" Dusky voice. "Where's the fun in that?"

"You tortured and starved them."

"They fell through my looking gla.s.s."

"Angie Robinson."

I felt more than saw Pomerleau tense.

"Tell me why," I pushed.

"Truth or dare?" Lilting.

"What did you do to my friend?"

"Truth or dare?"

Dear G.o.d! The woman was enjoying this!

"You've brutalized Tawny."

"Another Alice in my Wonderland." Reptilian smile.

"You killed children."

"Some last. Some don't."

"Give me their names."

"Why?"

"Their families have a right to know."

"Their families can rot in h.e.l.l, and you won't be telling them. Fool! You won't be telling anything to anyone."

"Your parents searched for you." Pleading tone.

"Not hard enough." Bitter.

"They miss you," I lied. "They want you back."

"There's no going back."

"There are people who will help you."

"The looking gla.s.s cracks."

Flashbulb image. My apartment. Shattered pictures, mirrors.

"All the king's horses and all the king's men can't put the d.a.m.ned back together again." Singsong.

"What happened to Angie Robinson?"

"Just another lost girl."

"Lost? Or destroyed?"

"Just so much shoveled dirt."

Keep her talking!

"When did Angie die?"

"Before my time."

"I know what happened, Anique. I understand. Catts hurt you, then made you hurt others."

"Who's Catts?"

"Menard. Catts killed Menard and took his name."

"Menard. Catts." Air puffed from her lips. "Amateur hour."

"He was evil. He tortured you. He tortured Angie Robinson. You had to play along to please him."

"I didn't play along." A finger jabbed her sternum. "I ruled. I was queen."

"Q." Queen of Hearts.

"You did what was necessary to survive."

"You don't get it. I'm the queen, not the rabbit."

Go with it.

"I know. You're the strong one, Anique. You shot Catts."

"He grew weak."

"You smothered Louise Parent."