“All right,” Jackson replied. Though he still wasn’t accepting the strange tale they’d heard, he was willing to go along with it for the sake of conversation. “So what’s your idea?”
“That maybe the kid was programmed to kill after all, and was also programmed to forget what he’d done, after he’d done it.”
“Now you’re reaching,” Jackson replied.
“Except it accounts for the discrepancy in our notes. Remember how you wrote down that Alex said he parked across from Jake’s last night, and I wrote down that he said he parked in the lot next door?”
“So? One of us heard wrong.”
“What if we didn’t? What if we both heard it right, and we both wrote it down right? What if he told us both things?”
Jackson frowned in the darkness. “Then he was lying.”
“Maybe not,” Finnerty mused. “What if he went down to Jake’s, parked across the street, then changed his mind and went up to Mrs. Benson’s? He kills her, then goes back to Jake’s, and parks in the lot. But he forgets what he did in between the two arrivals, because that’s what he’s been programmed to do. When he tells us everything he remembers about last night, he remembers parking both places, so that’s what he tells us. We didn’t make any mistakes, and he didn’t lie. He just doesn’t remember what he did.”
“That’s crazy—”
“What’s happening in this town is crazy,” Finnerty rasped. “But at least that theory fits the facts. Or at least what we think are the facts.”
“So he’ll come home, because he doesn’t remember what he’s done?”
“Right. Why shouldn’t he come home? As far as he knows, nothing’s wrong.”
“But what if he does remember?” Jackson asked. “What if he knows exactly what he’s doing, and just doesn’t care?”
“Then,” Finnerty said, his voice grim, “we might have to do exactly what his father suggested. We might have to kill him.”
Jackson took two more nervous drags on his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “Roscoe? I don’t think I could do it,” he said finally. “If it comes down to it, I’m just not sure I could shoot anyone.”
“Well, let’s hope it won’t come down to that,” Roscoe Finnerty replied. Then, giving in to his exhaustion, he slid deeper in his seat and closed his eyes. “Wake me up if anything happens.”
“Kim!”
Carol Cochran tried to make the word commanding, but her voice cracked with fear. Nonetheless, Kim turned to gaze at her curiously. “Come here, Kim,” she pleaded. Still Kim hesitated, and gazed up at Alex, her face screwed into a worried frown.
“Did you hurt yourself, Alex?” she asked, her eyes fixing on the cut over his eye.
Alex nodded.
“How?”
“I … I don’t know,” Alex admitted, then turned to look into the kitchen, where Carol and Lisa seemed frozen in place. “It’s all right,” Alex said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
As he spoke the words, Carol took a step forward. “Kim, I told you to come here!”
Kim glanced uncertainly from her mother to Alex, then back to her mother. She backed slowly into the dining room, then turned and dashed on into the kitchen.
When her younger daughter was in her arms, Carol’s strength seemed to come back to her. “Go away, Alex,” she said, the steadiness in her voice surprising even herself. “Just go away and leave us alone.”
Alex nodded, but moved slowly through the dining room until he came to the kitchen door, the gun still clutched in his right hand.
From her chair, Lisa watched Alex’s eyes, and her fear, instead of easing, only grew. There was an emptiness to his eyes that she’d never seen before. It was far beyond the strange blankness she’d almost grown used to over the last few months. Now his eyes looked as if they might be the eyes of a dead man. “Go away,” she whispered. “Please, Alex, just go away.”
“I will,” Alex replied. “I just … I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry for what’s happened.”
“Sorry?” Lisa echoed. “How can you be—” And then she broke off her own words, as her eyes suddenly fell on the shotgun. Alex followed her gaze with his own eyes, and his expression became almost puzzled.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” he said softly. “I mean … Alex didn’t kill anyone. It was the other.”
Lisa and Carol glanced nervously at each other, and Carol shook her head almost imperceptibly.
“I’m not Alex,” he went on. “That’s what I came to tell you. Alex is dead.”
“Dead?” Lisa echoed. “Alex, what are you talking about?”
“He’s dead,” Alex said again. “He died in the wreck. That’s all I came to tell you, so you wouldn’t think he’d done anything.” His eyes fixed on Lisa, and when he spoke again, his voice was strangled, as if the very act of speaking the words was painful for him. “He loved you,” he whispered. “Alex loved you very much. I … I don’t understand what that means, but I know it’s true. Don’t blame Alex for what I’ve done. He couldn’t stop it.”
Suddenly his eyes filled with tears once again. “He would have stopped it,” he whispered. “If so much of him hadn’t died — if just a little more of him had lived — I know he would have stopped it.”
Carol Cochran shakily rose to her feet. “What, Alex?” she whispered. “What would you have stopped?”
“Not me,” Alex breathed. “Him. Alex would have stopped what Dr. Torres did. But I didn’t know. He wouldn’t let me remember, so I didn’t know. But Alex found out. What was left of him found out, and he’s trying to stop it. He’s still trying, but he might not be able to, because he’s dead.” His eyes suddenly took on a wildness as they focused on Lisa once more. “Don’t you understand?” he begged. “Alex is dead, Lisa!” Then he turned, and shambled back through the dining room and out into the night. A moment later, Carol heard a car door slam and an engine start. And then she heard Kim, and felt the little girl tugging at her arms.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asked. “What’s wrong with Alex?”
Carol swallowed hard, then held Kim close. “He’s sick, honey,” she whispered. “He’s very sick in his head, that’s all.” Then she released Kim, and started toward the phone. “I’d better call the police,” she said.
“No!” Carol turned back to see Lisa standing up, her expression suddenly clear. “Let him go, Mama,” she said softly. “He won’t hurt anyone else now. Don’t you understand? That’s what he was trying to tell us. All he wants to do now is die, and we have to let him.” She knelt down, and pulled Kim close. “That wasn’t Alex that was just here, Kim,” she said softly. “That was someone else. Alex is dead. That’s what he was telling us. That he’s dead, and we should remember him the way he used to be. The way he was the night he took me to the dance.” She hesitated, as her eyes flooded with tears. “Do you remember that night, Kim?”
Kim nodded, but said nothing.
“Then let’s remember him that way, sweetheart. Let’s remember how he looked all dressed up in his dinner jacket, and let’s remember how good he was. All right?”
Kim hesitated, then nodded, and Lisa’s gaze shifted to her mother. “Let him go, Mama. Please?” she begged. “He won’t hurt anyone. I know he won’t.”
Carol stood silently watching her daughter for several long seconds, then, at last, moved toward her and embraced her.
“All right,” she said softly. Then: “I’m sorry.”
“I am too,” Lisa replied. “And so is Alex.”
“You’re sure there’s nothing I can do?” Jim Cochran asked.
Marsh opened the front door, and gazed out into the night as if expecting Alex to appear, but there was nothing. “No,” he sighed. “Go on back to Carol and the girls. And tell them I understand why they didn’t come,” he added.