Listening to the voices, using them as navigation out of her starless night, she inched forward on the floor. Four feet might as well have been four miles. She could not stand, not walk, not crawl. She was more helpless than an infant.
This was how he had made her feel. With his large hands and his ugly whisper. She had told Dr. Snow about it. She had told Elias about it. How his voice in her ear was even worse sometimes than his cock shoved up between her legs. She’d had to hear the same voice that had read her bedtime stories whisper about how tight she was between her legs. The same voice that asked her mother for more macaroni and cheese tell her that she was the sweetest girl he had ever fucked. He liked talking during sex, and that made it harder to take. She couldn’t just shut her eyes and pretend that he was a handsome boy in her class or some actor from a movie she had seen. She had to know it was him. She had to know it over and over again.
Inches. Slow rocking side to side. How far was she moving? At least they were still talking on the other side of the door. Maybe they would keep talking long enough for her to get there. But then what would she do? She had no voice. She could not move her hands or her feet.
It was hard to breathe through her nose while she made this effort. The sweat was sliding down her back. The fabric she was wearing was so heavy on her shoulders, so hot around her body, it made moving even more laborious. If only she could take it off. But she had no free hands, no free feet. She only had her body. It was all she’d ever had.
The fucking tears were there again. The damn tears. From the effort? Or from the words coming at her from the other side of the door? He knew she was listening. That was the point. His last chance to cleanse her. Nothing else had worked. Nothing would. He was using Dr. Snow. And when he had used her up, would he get rid of her, too? She had to stop him. But all she had was her body. It was all she’d ever had.
54
There was nothing left to hear. Or to say. For a moment, both of us just sat there with the words swirling above our heads. They even had their own sound. A soft rustle. No. That was a real sound. But what kind of sound?
“Thank you, Dr. Snow.”
I nodded. Not wanting to talk. Wanting to listen. I got up and walked to the window. The sound was farther away. I walked back to the couch, and as I did I passed by the glass cart and saw the label on the bottle of wine.
It was not wine you could buy in just any store. It was sacramental wine. Sold only to churches for use during mass. Sacramental wine?
And then I recognized the smell I’d noticed when I’d come in the door. Incense. The kind they burned in church. I’d been to mass often enough with Mitch to know it. I’d smelled it on Elias before. And I’d smelled it somewhere else.
I looked at Elias. He caught my eye. I looked away. Toward the door. There was an umbrella stand and in it a black umbrella with a familiar silver handle. It shone and the shine mocked me. I had missed all the clues. And now they were crowding in on me. Everywhere I looked was one more.
I kept walking. Now I was passing his desk, where there was a pile of envelopes addressed to him. But not here. Not here. The address was in St. Martin, N.A.
That was where I had seen those initials before. On Elias’s business card. An office in New York City. Another in St. Martin, N.A.
It was only a coincidence.
Noah had said there was a church in St. Martin that had ordered nun’s habits, but this was impossible. It was only a coincidence.
Suddenly a loud crash broke the silence. The sound of something solid smashing against wood. It came from beyond the living room. From somewhere deeper in the apartment.
Was it a coincidence?
Could Elias be the Healer? Could I have been so blind? And if he was the man who had been killing all those women, then he had to have taken Cleo. There had to be a connection. But what? Had he killed Cleo? No. I knew what I was doing. I had watched his face when he had talked about her. He was obsessed with her. He truly loved her. He had not killed her. But had he killed those other women in some sick ritual that was somehow connected to Cleo? I couldn’t figure it out, not yet, not right away, not while I was so afraid. But of course there was a connection. I’d thought there was all along.
And then I heard a sound again. A thud this time, soft, without much power. But loud enough for me to hear it. And for Elias to hear it. And for his eyes to narrow with anger.
As much as I wanted to go search the apartment, I knew that if I was right and there was someone-Cleo?-here, the only chance I had was to get myself out first. I needed to get to a phone. To call Noah. His name was large in my head now, shining, a solution. Just get out. Walk to the door. Do not look in the direction of the sound.
“I have to go, Elias.”
“Yes, you have to go.”
What had he read on my face? What was he thinking? Where was Cleo? I couldn’t focus on any of that yet. I had to get out first. Just get past him. And through the door.
I was halfway there, almost to the door, when I realized I had forgotten my bag. I had to act in a normal fashion as I went back for it, or he would know for sure that my suspicions had been raised, and if he was guilty, as I was now sure he was, he would never let me leave. And if I couldn’t leave, I couldn’t save Cleo. I needed to get out for Cleo. For Dulcie. The adrenaline was flooding my blood.
I turned back to the couch for my bag. But my eyes drifted toward the door next to the kitchen.
The picture of the blue-and-black iris was askew.
I heard the sound again. It was coming from behind that door. And this last impact sent the frame sliding off its hook, revealing a corner of wire mesh. The corner of a confessional screen.
55
It was too late. He saw me stare at the door. He saw what I saw, knew that I knew. There wasn’t much I could do. I had nothing to protect myself with. He was on the other side of the room. I was only steps from the door. I had nothing left to lose.
I opened the door. I didn’t think, didn’t worry. Too much had happened. Too much was at stake.
I stared into the dark space.
There she was. A nun dressed in full habit lying on the floor. Cleo’s lovely eyes weeping tears, her mouth taped up, her hands and feet bound. Her forehead dotted with sweat.
I was afraid to turn around and look back at Elias because now I was certain who I was in the room with. And I knew that there was no way the Healer was going to allow me to leave now that I’d found him out. Why hadn’t I been able to put it all together sooner? I’d had the book and it was full of clues. True, in my office Cleo had referred to Elias as Caesar, and in the book she had referred to him as the Healer. But she’d also told me that she had several names for him. She’d told me that. And I hadn’t remembered.
I shut my eyes. I breathed. What could I do? I was a fucking therapist. How could I get out of this?
I had to talk him down. It was what I did. It was all I did. I knew how to help people with words.
“Elias, let’s sit down.”
He shook his head. “What the fuck do I do with you now? Why didn’t you leave? I don’t want you here.” He was close to crying.
“What do you want?”
“I just wanted to learn the secret to how to make her clean again.”
“I can help you with that. If you will untie her, take her gag off. She can sit down and we can talk it out.”
“Oh, please, Dr. Snow. I can’t do that. I will not get caught.”
“Yes, you will. Eventually, you will.”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t get caught. Not in hotels, not in your office. It was me who ransacked your office that day. I was trying to find Cleo’s book. To take it away from you. I didn’t want you to get any ideas.”