Levi held back a frown.
“Talk us through what happened,” Knox softly coaxed.
She rubbed her chin against her knees. “I don’t know how he got into the house. I was asleep, and suddenly … he was just there. In my head. Telling me to wake up. I did, and he was sitting on my bed. He told me I was his now; that I didn’t need to be afraid; that we’d be the most perfect family.”
Levi exchanged a look with Larkin.
“I wanted to scream,” Missy went on. “I wanted to fight him. I wanted to telepathically call for help. Something. But I felt my mouth curve into a smile, and I heard myself wish him goodnight.” She coughed a bitter, humorless chuckle. “I wished him goodnight.”
Lois stroked her hair, and Missy let out a shuddery breath before continuing, “I wasn’t in control of myself. He took me over. He didn’t do it to Kyla, just me. I knew he had to be the one who’d killed Diem and Emma. I knew he’d kill me, too. But I couldn’t get help. I could only say what he wanted me to say. Only do what he wanted me to do.”
Which correlated with the claim that Emma’s soul made that she’d had no control.
Frowning, Missy shook her head. “It all felt so scripted. Like it was based on a really cheesy movie about a big sappily happy family. He called me Rosalind. And he would call Kyla either ‘Bessie’ or ‘Munchkin’. But although he treated me like I was his partner, he never made me … touch him. He never touched me that way. But there’d be gentle hugs or shoulder massages or foot rubs.” She shuddered, repulsion rippling across her face.
“Did he hurt you physically?” asked Knox.
“No. There were times I thought he would, because he looked so angry. But then he’d leave the room or tell me to sleep—and I would, like a damn robot. He never hurt Kyla either. He doted on her. It creeped me out, but it was better than the alternative.
“I was always worried that he’d change toward her. Especially near the end. He was so mad, then. Mad at me because I was supposed to have learned to love him. Mad at himself because he hadn’t really wanted me; that I wasn’t ‘right.’ Like I was the wrong brand of fabric softener.”
It was more like she wasn’t ‘right’ to the killer because she was Kyla’s sister, not her mother.
“In the beginning, he was always smiling and laughing and saying how lucky we were to have such a beautiful family. Even when there were tears dripping down my face. He didn’t acknowledge it when I cried. It was weird, I’d be smiling and chatting merrily because he was forcing me to, but the tears would fall because I was sobbing inside. He pretended it away. At first, anyway.”
Knox leaned forward, bracing his arms on his thighs and clasping his hands. “At what point did he stop?”
“His mood changed after a few days,” replied Missy. “Sometimes, he’d sit in silence and stare at the wall. Other times, words would just spill out of him.”
“What sort of things did he say?”
“That he and his demon are at war. That they’ve been at war for a very long time. He said one of them wants normality, and the other wants blood and death. The entity hates that no one can remember them. He said his ‘curse’ was to always be forgotten—whatever that means—but I didn’t think I really would forget him.” Tears filled Missy’s eyes. “He was right, though. I don’t remember his name, what he looks like, or even if he was familiar to me before that day. I can recall the stuff he said, but I can’t describe his voice because I literally can’t remember what it sounds like.”
Levi’s scalp prickled. Maybe that was why no one had been able to give an accurate description of the male who’d come and gone from the victims’ houses. He couldn’t be remembered.
Missy inhaled deeply. “He said he was tired. Tired of being forgotten. Tired of being alone. Tired of fighting his demon. He kept saying he wanted it all to be over.” She sniffled. “I thought he’d kill me. But he said it was his fault that things didn’t work. That he shouldn’t have chosen me.” Her brow creased. “He said there was another time he ‘got it wrong.’ A time he’d mistakenly chosen a woman who was an aunt instead of a mom. He said he regretted that.”
Levi tensed. The bastard had to have meant Moira. When it seemed that the killer’s MO was to go after single mothers, Levi had wondered if the killer had initially thought that Moira was his mother.
“No matter how hard I try, I can’t picture him.” Missy’s voice broke. “I just can’t.”