And maybe, Hollis thought, that’s what I want, too. Punishment and expiation for my sin.
But not like this. Not by Eric, and not by party or parties unknown.
Bad enough if Eric was responsible, but in that case at least he understood the reasons behind it — he could find some way to help him. Worse if it were someone else, because it was like fighting blind. Even Rakubian had been a known quantity; it had been clear what needed to be done in order to protect his family and himself. How do you stop, what safeguards do you take, against a phantom?
Friday Evening
The doorbell rang a few minutes past five.
Hollis was in the living room, hiding himself and his bleak thoughts behind the Examiner; Cassie, home just fifteen minutes, had gone upstairs to shower and change clothes. He put the paper aside as the bell sounded again. It rang twice more as he crossed to the hall, an urgent summons that quickened his steps. He pulled the door open without checking through the peephole.
Angela stood there.
He blinked at her; she had a key, she didn’t need to ring the bell. Then he saw her, really saw her. White-faced, eyes slick-bright, one hand on the doorjamb as if for support, the other clutching her purse against her chest. He felt an inner twisting, a spurt of fear.
“Daddy,” she said, almost moaning it.
She was alone, he realized. “Kenny? Is he—”
“He’s all right, I haven’t picked him up yet. I drove straight here. I couldn’t... I had to...”
He looped an arm around her shoulders, felt the quivering tension in her, and drew her inside. There was a creaking and thumping on the stairs as he shut the door: Cassie had heard them and was coming down. He maneuvered Angela into the living room, sat her down on the couch. Sat beside her with his arm still around her shoulders. Before he could say anything, Cassie came hurrying in.
“What’s going on? Honey, what—”
“He’s back,” she said.
“Back? Who’s back?”
“David. He’s alive and he’s back.”
Hollis heard Cassie’s breath suck in. He didn’t, couldn’t look at her. He knew then what had happened, what was coming, and with the knowledge the feeling of fatalism returned, stronger, darker, like a black hole opening in his mind.
“My God,” Cassie said, “you mean you saw him?” She sat heavily on Angela’s other side. “He showed up at school or your apartment—”
“No, but he knows where I’m living.”
“How could he know?”
“He knows, Mom. He’s after me again.”
“Did he call you, is that it?”
Angela shook her head, fumbled at the catches on her purse and rummaged inside. The taste of ashes was in Hollis’s mouth as he watched the crumpled sheet of paper materialize in her hand.
“This was in my mailbox when I got home.”
He snatched it from her, uncrumpled it. Same paper, same typeface. Two lines, identical to the ones on the note he’d received today. You won’t get away with it. You’ll suffer for what you did.
Cassie reached for the paper. He couldn’t prevent her from reading it; he let her take it without protest. She scanned the lines, kept staring at them as though trying to digest their meaning.
“I almost believed he was gone for good,” Angela said dully. The hunted look had returned to her eyes; her face was bloodless. She’d come so far, almost all the way back, and now this. “It seemed he must be after so much time. But he’s not, he’s somewhere close by, and he wants me to suffer...”
“No,” Hollis said.
“Hurt me, hurt Kenny...”
“No! Rakubian didn’t send that note.”
The words were out before he realized what he’d said. Angela and Cassie were both looking at him, their gazes like a pressure against his face; he still could not meet either one.
“Who else could it be?” From Cassie.
“I don’t know. Somebody’s sick idea of a joke...”
“It’s not a joke,” Angela said, “it’s David, you know it is.”
“It doesn’t sound like him,” he said lamely. “Two lines, no mention of your name, no signature... it’s too impersonal. Why would he send an anonymous note instead of calling, making the same demands as before?”
“He doesn’t want me anymore. All he wants is for me to suffer.”
“Why two months of silence? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes it does. It’s his way of torturing me. He won’t do anything right away. There’ll be more notes, phone calls, God knows what else.” Her voice had begun to rise. “Oh God, I can’t go through all that again, I can’t!”
Cassie gathered her close, murmured to her and stroked her hair. All the while she looked at Hollis over the top of her head, a steady, unreadable look.
He sat with his hands between his knees. Limp, useless lumps of flesh — like what was left of his manhood hanging higher up. Voices muttered in his head. One said, “It’s not Eric, he loves Angela, he’d never do anything to hurt her.” Another said, “You don’t know him or what he’s capable of, you’ve never really known him.” A third, the loudest, said, “You’re not the only target now... Angela, maybe Cassie... it’s just like it was when Rakubian was alive.”
Cassie, with little help from him, calmed Angela down; tried to convince her to spend the night there, let Hollis go pick up Kenny. She wouldn’t agree to it. She kept saving, “I feel like such a little girl, always running home — I have to stop being a little girl.” Cassie finally talked her into a partial compromise: the two of them would fetch Kenny together. Hollis understood that she wanted some time alone with Angela, and that was all right with him. He needed to be by himself for a while.
When they were gone he sat in his study, staring blankly at the architectural prints on the walls while he tried to order his thoughts, shape them as he would one of his designs into a logical, substantive pattern. He hated the feeling of impotence; it was the way Pop had made him feel as a kid, weak, ineffectual, and until now he’d refused to let himself be crippled that way as an adult. He had dealt with all the other crises in his life, he’d dealt with Rakubian, or tried to, the best way he knew how. All right, he’d deal with this new crisis, too.
One thing for sure: He could no longer afford to wait for something else to happen. He had to act, and quickly. And he had to stop shouldering the entire burden himself, no matter who was responsible for those notes or why.
In the kitchen later, picking at a cold dinner neither he nor Cassie wanted:
“I wish you’d been able to talk her into staying with us tonight,” he said. “I don’t like the idea of her and Kenny alone in that apartment.”
“I don’t think they’ll be alone.”
“What do you— Oh. Pierce.”
“She said she was going to call him.”
“I suppose he spends a lot of nights over there now.”
“Some, probably.”
“Terrific.”
“He wants to marry her again,” Cassie said.
Hollis frowned. He hadn’t told her about Pierce’s visit yesterday. “She tell you that?”
“Yes.”
“So he’s already asked her.”
“Not in so many words. But he’s made it plain enough that he intends to.”