Fat Tuesday(70)

"If I really thought he could poison you, I wouldn't have brought you to him."

He spoke quietly, but in the small room his voice seemed unnaturally loud, the sound waves palpable. More likely, Dredd's homemade sleeping potion had dulled her mind but sharpened her senses.

She fought the impulse to look at him, but her eyes were inexorably drawn to the foot of the bed. His hands were folded around the' iron railing of the footboard. He appeared to have a very tight grip on it, and he was leaning into it, bearing down, as though he feared it might begin to levitate.

"If you hadn't brought me here, Mr. Basile, what would you have done with me? Dumped me on the side of the road?"

"I never intended for you to get hurt."

"Well I did." He remained stubbornly silent, but it didn't surprise her that no apology was forthcoming."Your disguise was very good."

"Thanks."

"Is Father Gregory genuine?"

"No. He's an actor I bullied into helping me pull this off. It's his fault you got hurt. You and I were supposed to leave the Crossroads alone."

"What have you done with him?"

"I haven't done anything with him," he snapped."When I woke up this morning, he was gone. He took off sometime before dawn."

She didn't know whether or not to believe him, but she supposed that if he had wanted to dispose of Father Gregory permanently, he would have done so yesterday when he was so angry with him."You'll never get away with this, Mr. Basile."

"I don't expect to."

"Then what do you hope to gain?"

"Peace of mind."

"That's all?"

'"That's a lot." She gave him a long look, but his expression was unreadable."What about me?"

"You'll live to tell about it."

"Pinkie will kill you."

He stepped around the footboard and moved to the side of the bed.

His hand, still bearing the four vicious scratches her nails had made, reached toward her.





"No!" she cried. Despite her lassitude, she grabbed his wrist."Let go."

"What are you going to do? Don't hurt me."

"Let go," he repeated.

She dropped her hand, because she didn't have the strength to fight him. Her eyes fearfully followed his hand as it moved to the side of her head. His fingers touched her hair.

Then he pulled his hand back and she saw it, being twirled between his thumb and finger, a feather white, downy, curling upon itself, an escapee from Dredd' wmusty-smelling pillow.

"Are you frightened of me?"

Her eyes were fixed on the slowly swirling feather as though it were a hypnotic talisman. Slowly, she looked away from it and up at him.

"Yes."

He assimilated that, but didn't hasten to assure her that she had no reason to fear him."Are you in pain?"

As though reminded that she'd been sedated, her eyes closed."No."

"Anywhere?"

"No."

"Does your mouth hurt where you bit your lip?"

"Did I?"

"It was bleeding last night."

"Oh. I remember now. No, it doesn't hurt."

"Did Dredd' wmedicine make you sick to your stomach?"

"Not at all."

"I've been thinking that maybe you shouldn't be drinking that stuff It might not be good for ... What I mean is, should I tell him about the baby you lost?"

"If I was still pregnant, maybe, but ..." She was jolted into sudden awareness, but her eyes were slow to open, and even then it was a struggle to bring Burke Basile into focus.

He was still standing at the bedside, unmovable except for his right hand, which was flexing, his stare unflinching and seemingly able to read her mind and see into her soul.

"How did you know about my baby?"

When Doug Pat returned to his office, he wasn't surprised to see Pinkie Duvall waiting for him. Before he was completely inside, Duvall launched his offense."Where have you been all day?"

Pat, reading his guest's mood and knowing the reason for it, dispensed with customary pleasantries. He shrugged off his coat and hung it up, then sat down behind his desk."Jefferson Parish.

Curiously enough, it's become a hot spot during the last twenty-four hours.

As I understand it, you were over that way yourself last evening."

'"So you know."

"Yeah, I know. What I don't know is why you put on that dog and-pony show for the sheriff. Why didn't you let the authorities take over while the trail was still hot?"

"I handle my problems my way."

"This is significantly more than a problem, Duvall."

"You were out of your jurisdiction, Pat. Where did you leave it with those hicks?"

"The same place you left it, but I spent a couple hours in the sheriff's office. Out of professional courtesy, they let me read the statements of the eyewitnesses. I talked to the deputies who were first on the scene. Although you convinced them that the incident was nothing more than a bizarre sequence of misinterpreted events, it appears to me that your wife has been kidnapped." He finished by asking testily, "Don't you think the FBI should know about it?"