Maura stepped into the interview room and confronted a table and two chairs. She sat down in the chair facing the door. A Plexiglas window looked into the hallway, and two surveillance cameras peered from opposite corners of the room. She waited, her hands sweating despite the air-conditioning. Glanced up, startled, to see Amalthea’s dark, flat eyes staring at her through the window.
The guard escorted Amalthea into the room and sat her in a chair. “She’s not talking much today. I don’t know that she’s going to say a thing to you, but here she is.” The guard bent down, fastened a steel cuff around Amalthea’s ankle, and attached it to the table leg.
“Is that really necessary?” asked Maura.
“It’s just regulation, for your safety.” The guard straightened. “When you’re done, press that button there, on the wall intercom. We’ll come get her.” She gave Amalthea’s shoulder a pat. “Now, you talk to the lady, okay, honey? She’s come all this way just to see you.” She gave Maura a silent glance of good luck, and left, locking the door behind her.
A moment passed.
“I was here last week to visit you,” said Maura. “Do you remember?”
Amalthea hunched in her chair, eyes cast down at the table.
“You said something to me as I was about to leave. You said, now you’re going to die, too. What did you mean by that?”
Silence.
“You were warning me off, weren’t you? Telling me to leave you alone. You didn’t want me digging into your past.”
Again, silence.
“No one is listening to us, Amalthea. It’s just you and me in this room.” Maura placed her hands on the table, to show she had no tape recorder, no notepad. “I’m not a policeman. I’m not a prosecutor. You can say whatever you want to me, and we’re the only ones who’ll hear it.” She leaned closer, said quietly: “I know you can understand every word I’m saying. So look at me, goddamn it. I’ve had enough of this game.”
Though Amalthea did not lift her head, there was no missing the sudden tension in her arms, the twitch of her muscles. She’s listening, all right. She’s waiting to hear what I have to say next.
“That was a threat, wasn’t it? When you told me I was going to die, you were telling me to stay away, or I’d end up like Anna. I thought it was just psychotic babbling, but you meant it. You’re protecting him, aren’t you? You’re protecting the Beast.”
Slowly, Amalthea’s head lifted. Dark eyes met hers in a gaze so cold, so empty, that Maura drew back, skin prickling.
“We know about him,” said Maura. “We know about you both.”
“What do you know?”
Maura had not expected her to speak. That question was whispered so softly she wondered if she’d actually heard it. She swallowed. Drew in a deep breath, shaken by the black void of those eyes. No insanity there, just emptiness.
“You’re as sane as I am,” said Maura. “But you don’t dare let anyone know that. It’s so much easier to hide behind a schizophrenic’s mask. Easier to play the psychotic, because people always leave the crazy ones alone. They don’t bother to interrogate you. They don’t dig any deeper, because they think it’s all delusion anyway. And now they don’t even medicate you, because you’re so good at faking the side effects.” Maura forced herself to stare deeper into that void. “They don’t know the Beast is real. But you do. And you know where he is.”
Amalthea sat perfectly still, but tautness had crept into her face. The muscles had tightened around her mouth, and stood out in cords down her throat.
“It was your only option, wasn’t it? Pleading insanity. You couldn’t argue away the evidence-the blood on your tire iron, the stolen wallets. But convince them you’re psychotic, and maybe you’d avoid any further scrutiny. Maybe they wouldn’t find out about all your other victims. The women you killed in Florida and Virginia. Texas and Arkansas. States with the death penalty.” Maura leaned even closer. “Why don’t you just give him up, Amalthea? After all, he let you take the blame. And he’s still out there killing. He’s going on without you, visiting all the same places, the same hunting grounds. He’s just abducted another woman, in Natick. You could stop him, Amalthea. You could put an end to it.”
Amalthea seemed to be holding her breath, waiting.
“Look at you, sitting here in prison.” Maura laughed. “What a loser you are. Why should you be in here when Elijah’s free?”
Amalthea blinked. In an instant, all rigidity seemed to melt from her muscles.
“Talk to me,” pressed Maura. “There’s no one else in this room. Just you and me.”
The other woman’s gaze lifted to one of the video cameras mounted in the corner.
“Yes, they can see us,” said Maura. “But they can’t hear us.”
“Everyone can hear us,” whispered Amalthea. She focused on Maura. The fathomless gaze had turned cold, collected. And frighteningly sane, as though some new creature had suddenly emerged, staring out through those eyes. “Why are you here?”
“I want to know. Did Elijah kill my sister?”
A long pause. And, strangely, a gleam of amusement in those eyes. “Why would he?”
“You know why Anna was murdered. Don’t you?”
“Why don’t you ask me a question I know the answer to? The question you really came to ask me.” Amalthea’s voice was low, intimate. “This is about you, Maura, isn’t it? What is it you want to know?”
Maura stared at her, heart pounding. A single question swelled like an ache in her throat. “I want you to tell me…”
“Yes?” Just a murmur, soft as a voice in Maura’s head.
“Who was really my mother?”
A smile twitched on Amalthea’s lips. “You mean you don’t see the resemblance?”
“Just tell me the truth.”
“Look at me. And look in the mirror. There’s your truth.”
“I don’t recognize any part of you in me.”
“But I recognize myself in you.”
Maura gave a laugh, surprising herself that she could even manage it. “I don’t know why I came. This visit is a waste of my time.” She shoved back her chair and started to rise.
“Do you like working with the dead, Maura?”
Startled by the question, Maura paused, half out of her chair.
“It’s what you do, isn’t it?” said Amalthea. “You cut them open. Take out their organs. Slice their hearts. Why do you do it?”
“My job requires it.”
“Why did you choose that job?”
“I’m not here to talk about myself.”
“Yes you are. This is all about you. About who you really are.”
Slowly Maura sat back down. “Why don’t you just tell me?”
“You slit open bellies. Dip your hands in their blood. Why do you think we’re any different?” The woman had been moving forward so imperceptibly that Maura was startled to suddenly realize how close Amalthea was to her. “Look in the mirror. You’ll see me.”
“We’re not even the same species.”
“If that’s what you want to believe, who am I to change your mind?” Amalthea stared, unflinching, at Maura. “There’s always DNA.”
The breath went out of Maura. A bluff, she thought. Amalthea’s waiting to see if I’ll call her on it. If I really want to know the truth. DNA doesn’t lie. With a swab of her mouth, I could have my answer. I could have my worst fears confirmed.
“You know where to find me,” said Amalthea. “Come back when you’re ready for the truth.” She stood, her ankle cuff clanking against the table leg, and stared up at the video camera. A signal to the guard that she wanted to leave.
“If you’re my mother,” said Maura, “then tell me who my father is.”
Amalthea glanced back at her, the smile once again on her lips. “Haven’t you guessed?”
The door opened, and the guard poked her head in. “Everything okay in here?”