Marsh nodded, but Finnerty wasn’t sure he’d been listening. “Dr. Lonsdale?” he asked, and Marsh met his eyes. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about this,” Finnerty went on. “I keep hoping that there’s been a mistake, and that maybe your boy didn’t have anything to do with this.”
Marsh’s head came up, and he used his handkerchief to blot away the last of the tears on his cheeks.
“It’s all right, Sergeant,” he said. “You’re just doing your job, and I understand it.” He hesitated, then went on. “And there’s something else I should tell you. I … well, I don’t think there’s been a mistake. I think you should be aware that Alex may be very dangerous. Ever since the operation, he hasn’t felt anything — no love, no hate, no anger, nothing. If he’s started killing, for whatever reason, he probably won’t stop. Nor will he care what he does.”
There was a short silence while Finnerty tried to assess Marsh Lonsdale’s words. “Dr. Lonsdale,” he finally asked, “would you mind telling me exactly what you’re trying to say?”
“I’m trying to say that if you find Alex, I think you’d better kill him. If you don’t, I suspect he won’t hesitate to kill you.”
Jackson and Finnerty glanced at each other. Finally, it was Jackson who spoke for both of them. “We can’t do that, Dr. Lonsdale,” he said quietly. “So far, it hasn’t been proven that your son has done anything. For all we know, he might have been up in the hills shooting rabbits, and hurt himself some way.”
“No,” Marsh said, his voice almost a whisper. “No, that’s not it. He did it.”
“If he did, that will be for a court to decide,” Jackson went on. “We’ll find your son, Dr. Lonsdale. But we won’t kill him.”
Marsh shook his head wearily. “You don’t understand, do you? That boy out there — he’s not Alex. I don’t know who he is, but he’s not Alex.…”
“Okay,” Finnerty said, in the gently soothing voice he’d long ago developed for situations in which he found himself dealing with someone who was less than rational. “You just take it easy for a while, Dr. Lonsdale, and we’ll take care of it.” He waited until Marsh had settled himself onto the sofa next to Ellen, then led Jackson out of the house. “Well? What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Neither do I,” Finnerty sighed. “Neither do I.”
“I don’t believe any of this,” Jim Cochran declared. His glance alternated between his wife and his elder daughter, neither of whom seemed willing to meet his gaze. Only Kim seemed to agree with him, and Carol had insisted she be sent up to her room five minutes ago, when it became obvious a fight was brewing. “Ellen and Marsh and Alex have been friends of ours for most of our lives. And now you don’t even want me to call them?”
“I didn’t say that,” Carol protested, though she knew that even if she hadn’t said the words, certainly that was what she had meant. “I just think we should leave them alone until we know what’s happened.”
“That’s not you talking,” Jim replied. “It’s someone else.”
“No!” Carol exclaimed. “After today, I just can’t stand any more.”
“And what about Marsh and Ellen? How do you think they feel? They’re the ones whose lives are falling apart, Carol, not us.”
Carol tried to close her ears to the words that were so much an echo of what she herself had said to Lisa only weeks ago. But weeks ago, no one had died.
“And what if Alex comes home?” Carol demanded. “No one knows where he is, or what he’s doing, but according to Sheila Rosenberg, he murdered Cynthia and Carolyn Evans this morning, and probably murdered Marty and Valerie as well.”
“We don’t know that,” Jim insisted. “And you both know that Sheila is the worst gossip in this town.”
“Daddy!” Lisa said. “Alex didn’t care about what happened to Mrs. Lewis, and he didn’t think Mr. Lewis killed her. He told me so. He even said he thought someone else might get killed.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“And he’s been acting weirder and weirder ever since he came home. Are you going to tell me that’s not true, too?”
“It’s not the point,” Jim insisted. “The point is that people stick by their friends, no matter what happens. And I don’t accept that Alex has killed anyone.”
“Then I’m afraid you’re burying your head in the sand,” Carol replied. “If he hasn’t done anything, then where is he?”
“Anywhere,” Jim said. “Who knows? He could have gone up into the hills, and had another accident.”
“Daddy—”
“No,” Jim said. “I’ve heard enough. I’m calling Marsh, and finding out what’s going on. And if they need me, I’m going up there.” He left the kitchen, and a few seconds later, Carol and Lisa heard him talking on the phone.
“I don’t want to go up there, Mom,” Lisa said quietly, her eyes beseeching. “I’m scared of Alex.”
Carol patted Lisa’s hand reassuringly. “It’s all right, honey. We’re not going anywhere. I’m … well, I’m just as frightened as you are.” Suddenly Jim appeared in the doorway, and Carol’s attention was diverted from her daughter to her husband.
“I just talked to Marsh,” Jim told them, “and he wasn’t making much sense. And Ellen’s not talking at all. He says she’s just sitting on the sofa, and he’s not sure she’s even hearing what anyone says.”
“Anyone?” Carol asked. “Is someone else there?”
“The police were there. They just left.”
There was a silence. Carol sighed as she came to a decision. “All right,” she said quietly. “If you think you have to go, we’ll all go. I guess you’re right — we can’t just sit here and do nothing.” She stood up, but Lisa remained seated where she was.
“No,” she said, her eyes flooding. “I can’t go.”
And finally, seeing the extent of his daughter’s fear, Jim relented. “It’s okay, princess,” he said softly. “I guess I can understand how you’re feeling.” His eyes moved to his wife, and he offered her a tight smile. “I guess that lets you off the hook, too.”
Carol hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll stay here.” Guiltily, she hoped the relief she was feeling didn’t show, but she was sure it did.
“I won’t stay long,” Jim promised. “I’ll just see if there’s anything I can do, and let them know they’re not alone. Then I’ll be back. Okay?”
Again Carol nodded, and walked with her husband to the front door, where she kissed him good-bye. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I’ve lost my nerve, but I just have. Forgive me?”
“Always,” Jim told her. Then, before he closed the door, he spoke again. “Until I get back, don’t open the door for anyone.”
Then he was gone, and Carol went back to the kitchen, to wait.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Darkness was falling as Alex made the turn off Middlefield Road, and as he started up into the hills on La Paloma Drive, he reached down and turned on the headlights of Raymond Torres’s car. He wondered if he would dream about Dr. Torres tonight — if he chose to live that long — and wondered if, in whatever dreams he might have, he would feel the same emotional pain again, as he had when he dreamed about Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Benson. With Dr. Torres, he decided, he wouldn’t. Torres’s death was very clear in his memory, and he felt no pain when he thought about it.
But he would dream about Mrs. Evans, and Carolyn, too, and then the pain would come.
There was, he had finally come to believe, still some little fragment of Alex Lonsdale still alive, deep within the recesses of his central brain core. It was that fragment of Alex who was having the dreams, and feeling the pain of what he had done. But when he was awake, there was none of Alex left. Only … who?