"Join the club," I said.
He peered at me through the darkness. "Then why did you do it?"
"Someone had to."
"I will never forget the sight of you chopping him up. This little girl ... The look on your face when you killed him. God, you looked blank like you weren't even there. Why did you have to be the one to do it?"
"Would it have been better if one of the guys had done it?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Please don't tell me this is some macho shit. That you're this upset because a girl did it?"
Patrick snuffled. "I guess it is. I mean, I guess it wouldn't seem so horrible if one of the others had done it. You're this pretty little thing. You shouldn't be chopping people's fingers off."
"Oh, please," I said.
"I will go to my grave seeing the look on your face at the last."
"Keep it up, and you'll go sooner than later," I mumbled.
"What did you say?" Patrick asked.
"Nothing," I said.
Jason made a small sound that might have been a laugh. If he only knew how unfunny the comment had been. I was having enough trouble with what I'd just done. I didn't need a sobbing Jiminy Cricket to emphasize the fact that I'd fallen into the abyss. The monster wasn't breathing down my neck; it was inside my head. Inside my head, fat and well-fed. What made me so sure the monster was home was the fact that I didn't feel guilty. I felt bad because I was supposed to feel bad and didn't. I had to have some personal line that could not be crossed, and I'd thought torture was it. And I'd been wrong.
Tears tightened my throat, but I'd be damned if I'd cry. It was done. I had to let it go -- or at least push it back long enough to get the job done. The job was to rescue Daniel and Charlotte. If I didn't get them out, then it had all been for nothing. I'd added a new nightmare for nothing. But it was more than that. I couldn't face Richard if I let them die. I'd been angry with him, pissed, but now I wasn't. I'd have given a great deal for him to hold me right now. Of course, he'd have probably agreed with Patrick. Richard would be a very wise man if he didn't attempt to lecture me tonight.
But it wasn't just Richard. I'd met the entire Zeeman clan. They were so close to perfect that it made my teeth ache. The family might never recover from a loss like this. My family hadn't. I was counting on Daniel and Charlotte to recover from the torture. I was counting on them being strong enough to not let that alone be enough to destroy them. I hoped I was right. No. I prayed I was right.
Thompson had told us what room they were keeping them in. It was in the back, near the woods, as far from the road as possible. Not a surprise. There might have been information that Thompson had that could have been useful. Maybe I should have used less torture and more threat. Maybe that would have gotten us more detailed info faster. Maybe, maybe not. I was new at interrogation by torture, lacked the proper technique, I suppose. I would have said I'd get better with practice, except I wasn't doing it again. I might have the screaming meemies forever from just this one incident, but if I did it again, it was over. They'd have to wrap me up and put me away. I kept flashing on the feel of the cleaver biting into the floor. I remembered thinking that I didn't feel it go through the bone. I just felt it bite into the floor underneath. I saw the fingers go in a wash of blood, but not as much blood as you'd think, for some reason.
"Anita, Anita, the turnoff."
I blinked and slammed on the brakes, throwing everyone forward. I was the only one wearing a seat belt. I usually remember to have everyone buckle up. Careless of me.
Jason peeled himself off the dashboard, pushed back to the seat, and said, "Are you okay?"
I backed the van up slowly. "I'm fine."
"Liar," he said.
I eased the van back until I could see the white sign that said, "Greene Valley House." You didn't expect to find a house with a name at the end of a dirt road, but there you are. Just because the road isn't paved doesn't mean the people don't have style or maybe pretensions. Sometimes it's awfully hard to tell the difference.
This road was gravel. The gravel pinged against the underside of the van, even at less than twenty miles an hour. I slowed down further. Roxanne knew the house. She'd grown up with the Greenes' son. They'd been best friends until the hormones kicked in and he started trying to play boy to her girl. But she knew the house. There was a clearing about halfway down the road where we should park the van. The clearing was right on schedule. I pulled the van into the weeds. They whisked against the metal, whipping the tires. The black van was sort of invisible, parked in the trees. It was also sort of wedged. We wouldn't be moving it quickly. Of course, I wasn't planning on us having to make a run for it. My priority was to get Daniel and Charlotte out as unharmed as possible. I had no other priority. It made things simple. We secured the hostages, then we killed everybody. Simple.
Part of me hoped that Richard got here in time for the assault. Part of me didn't. One, I wasn't sure how he'd take the news about his family. Two, I wasn't sure how he'd take my game plan. And I didn't want to argue. I'd paid the price to get here. We'd play it the way I wanted it.
Someone touched my arm, and I jumped so badly I couldn't speak for a second. My heart filled my throat until I couldn't breathe. "Anita, it's Jason. You okay?"
The passenger-side door was open, and Patrick wasn't in sight. I heard movement coming up on my side of the van. It was Nathaniel. He tapped softly on the window. I lowered it.
"Everyone's out of the back," he said.
I nodded.
"Give us a few minutes," Jason said.
Nathaniel went back to the rear of the van without another word. He did follow orders well.
"Talk to me, Anita."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"You keep staring off into space for minutes at a time. You're not even here. We need you for this to work. Daniel and Mrs. Zeeman need you."
My head turned slowly of its own accord, and I glared at him. "I have done my best for them tonight. I have gone above and beyond my personal best for them tonight."
"Until they're safe, it's not over."
"I know that. Don't you think I know that? If I don't get them out alive, then what I did was for nothing."
"And what do you think you did?" he asked.
I shook my head. "You saw."
"I helped hold him down."
"I'm sorry about that."
Jason put a hand on each shoulder and shook me gently. "Damn it, Anita, get a grip. It isn't like you to wallow in the horror. You're a good soldier. You kill and keep going like you're supposed to."
I pushed him away from me. "I tortured a man, Jason. I reduced him to something that writhed on the floor, mewling with terror and pain. And I wanted to do it. I wanted him to hurt because of what they'd done to Charlotte and Daniel. I wanted to do it." I shook my head. "I'll do my bit tonight, but forgive me if it's a little harder to keep going than normal. Forgive me if I'm not superwoman, after all."
"Not superwoman?" he exclaimed, putting a hand on his chest in mock surprise. "You've lied to me all these years!"
It made me smile, and I didn't want to smile. "Stop it."
"Stop what? Cheering you up? Or is life supposed to stop because you did something horrible? I'll tell you the real horrible truth, Anita. No matter what you do or how bad you feel about it, life just goes on. Life doesn't give a f**k that you're sorry or upset or deranged or tormented. Life just goes on, and you gotta go on with it, or sit in the middle of the road and feel sorry for yourself. And I don't see you doing that."
"I am not feeling sorry for myself."
"You aren't all broken up about Thompson. You're broken up because of what you did to Thompson and how it makes you feel. You don't give a rat's ass about him. You're just weeping and gnashing your teeth about how much of a monster you are. Well, I get enough of that from Richard. I don't need it from you. So get your act together. We've got people we care about to save."
I stared at him. "You know what's really bothering me?"
"No, what?"
"I don't feel bad about cutting Thompson up. I think he deserved it."
"He did," Jason said.
"No one deserves to be tortured, Jason. No one deserves what we did -- what I did -- to him. That's what the front of my brain keeps telling me. It keeps telling me I should feel sorry about it, horrified. This should be something that breaks me. But you know what?"