“Shut up, you bitch! I did what I had to do.”
“Let’s calm down.” Feeney gestured down with his hands, keeping the tone and rhythm of good cop in play. “The important thing for you, John, is Detective Peabody’s all right. That counts a lot. Maybe we couldn’t help you out if she’d taken a downturn, but she’s okay. There are things we can do for you, John. You cooperate, you show remorse, you give us the information we need to bring some closure to the families of those other victims, we’re going to put in some good words for you.”
“I did what I had to do. Why do you lock a man up for doing what he has to do?”
Eve pulled a red cord out of her pocket. “Why did you use this?” When he only stared, she wrapped it around her own throat, watched his eyes go glassy. “You like how it looks on me? Want to get your hands on the ends, John, and pull?”
“Should’ve killed you first.”
“Yeah, you got that right.”
His gaze was locked on the cord, and beads of sweat were popping out on his face, on the dome of his head. “Where’s your mother, John?”
“Shut up, I said, about my mother!”
“She liked to do crafts. We got her account from Total Crafts. But you know what, word is nobody’s seen her around in months. Damn near a year now. You kill her first, John? You take some of her ribbon, like all that red ribbon we found in the house, and wrap it around her neck? You rape your own mother, John? Did you rape and strangle your mother, and take her eyes?”
“She was a whore.”
“What did she do to you, John?”
“Deserved what she got.” Breathing shallow, he stared at the mirror again. Nodded slowly. “Deserved it. Every time.”
“What did she do?” There was nothing wrong with his eyes. She could see that, and she’d checked his medicals. And she thought of the bright lights. Sunshades and bright lights. Eyes in jars.
“It’s a little bright in here,” she said conversationally. “Lights, fifty percent.”
“Turn them back up.” The sweat was rolling now. “I’m not talking to you in the dark.”
“You’re not saying anything I want to hear. Lights, thirty percent.”
“Turn them on, turn them on! I don’t like the dark. Don’t leave me in the dark. I didn’t mean to see!”
His tone had gone high. A boy’s voice in panic and plea. It touched something in her, but she tamped it down. “See what? Tell me, John. Tell me, and I’ll turn the lights up again.”
“Whore, naked in bed. Letting him touch her, touching him. I didn’t mean to see.”
“What did she do to you?”
“Put the cloth over your eyes. Tie it tight. Little prick, got no business spying on me when I’m working. Lock you in again. Lock you in the dark. Maybe I’ll poke your eyes out next time, then you won’t see what you’re not supposed to see.”
Chains rattled as he struggled in the chair. “I don’t want to be in the dark. I’m not weak and puny and stupid.”
“What happened in the park?”
“Just playing, that’s all. Just playing, me and Shelley. I just let her touch it. It hurts, it hurts when Mommy hits it with a stick. Burns, burns when she scrubs it with the powder. Pour acid on it next time and see how you like it. In the dark, can’t see, can’t get out.”
He fell against the table, weeping.
“You got strong, didn’t you, John? You got strong and paid her back for it.”
“She shouldn’t have said those things to me. She shouldn’t laugh at me and call me names. I’m not a freak. I’m not good-for-nothing. I’m a man.”
“And you showed her you were a man. A man who can rape whores when he wants to. You shut her up.”
“Shut her right up.” He lifted his head, and madness rolled in his eyes even as tears streamed out of them. “How do you like it now? She only sees what I tell her to see now. That’s what. I’m in charge now. And when I see her again, I know what to do.”
“Tell me where she is now, John. Where the rest of her is.”