F Paul Wilson - Secret History 02 (60 page)

           
"I'm glad to see you," she
said when he pulled away.

           
"It's mutual. But opera?"

           
"There's so much of it here I
thought I'd give it a try. The music's not bad. I just wish I knew what they
were saying."

           
"I can live without knowing.
You said you needed my help up here?"

           
Rob noticed how she used the remote
control to turn off the stereo from her chair. She seemed right at home.
Too
at home.

           
"Yes," she said, rising
from the chair. "I want to take down those drapes from the rear windows
and let in some light. It's like a mausoleum in here."

           
She was right about the gloom. And
it was a very Kara thing to do. She was always one for open windows and letting
the air through. He walked over and pulled the drapes aside to take a look. The
window was huge—three five-foot panes stacked floor to ceiling. The drapes were
suspended from a heavy rod bolted to the ceiling.

           
"This'll let in some light, all
right. But how do I get up there?"

           
"I thought we might try one of
the ladders from the library."

           
"Good idea. I'll get one."

           
"I'll help."

           
"That's okay. I can
manage."

           
Rob removed his jacket and laid it
atop one of the record cabinets. He pulled his clip holster and revolver from
the small of his back and folded them in his jacket. Then he headed for the
stairs.

           
What
are you up to
? Kara asks as you watch Detective Harris descend to the
second floor. Her words writhe with suspicion.

           
"Nothing, Kara. Nothing at
all."

           
You
love this room just the way it is
—
like
a tomb. Why are you pretending to want to change it? Tell me
!

           
"It's very simple, really. Your
detective friend is suspicious of you. That's why he keeps asking questions
about your past together. I'm doing this to allay those suspicions. Seeing me
making changes in the house will put him more at ease, make him more willing to
overlook any gaffes I make as I pretend to be you."

           
There is a lengthy pause. Then:

           
I
don't trust you
.

           
"I realize that. But it doesn't
matter."

           
You don't tell her what you're
really planning. Better to let her learn as it happens. The shock will drive it
all more deeply home.

           
And it will happen soon. Very soon.

           
With growing unease, Kara watched
Rob set up the ladder next to the window. Maybe Gabor truly was trying to allay
Rob's suspicions, but somehow that didn't ring true. She had a feeling he was
up to something.

           
She had to admit, though, he was
certainly acting like a devoted parent where Jill was concerned, whether for
Rob's sake or to make up for locking her out of the cellar earlier, Kara
couldn't say. But when Jill wanted to go downstairs, Gabor convinced her to
stay, and even turned on the projection TV so she could watch
Pee Wee's Playhouse
.

           
"She's not going to see much on
that screen once I let the light in," Rob said.

           
"We'll adjust," Kara's
voice said. "I think opening this floor up to that southern exposure is
worth the loss of a little daytime TV, don't you?"

           
"I guess so."

           
Rob locked down the spreader on the
stepladder, checked its stability, then began to climb.

           
"Want me to steady it?"

           
"Nah. I'll be okay."

           
But to reach the center curtains,
Rob had to climb to the very top and perch on the head step. The ladder wobbled
under him,

           
"Maybe you'd better steady it
after all," he said.

           
Her hands braced the side rails as
Rob reached under the valance and unhooked the left curtain. When he let it
drop, blinding sunlight poured in on an angle through the five-foot sheets of
glass. He looked down at her.

           
"How's that?"

           
"Great. Now the other
one."

           
As Rob worked on the right curtain,
Kara noticed that her right hand had moved from the ladder's side rail to the
front pocket of her jeans. It pulled out a key ring and began twirling the ring
on its index finger.

           
What
are you doing that for?

           
"I want to see if he
notices."

           
He
will
notice
!

           
"I hope so. Because I want him
to know before he dies."

           
Sick terror engulfed Kara.

           
No!
What are you going to do?

           
"Watch."

           
Rob dropped the second curtain. More
sun poured in.

           
"There we go. Now, you said you
wanted the drapes—"

           
His eyes widened as he looked down
at her. Kara could see his eyes fixed on her hand and the twirling key ring.

           
"It's you!" he said in an
awed whisper. "God damn it, it's
you
!"

           
Kara heard her voice shout "
Yes
!" and then her hands were
pushing hard against the stepladder. Before Kara could even attempt to hold
them back, the damage was done. With all Rob's weight at the top, the ladder
toppled easily, vaulting him toward the huge panes of glass. With a terrified
cry, he grabbed a pleat of one of the side drapes but it pulled free and he
crashed into the top pane. It shattered with a bell-like clang, and then all
the glass was coming apart, in shards large and small, in squares, triangles
and daggers, catching and throwing flashes of sunlight as they spun and tumbled
in all directions.

           
Kara heard Jill shriek in terror
behind her. Rob's body twisted and contorted within the flying glass, one hand
still clutching the side drape, the other grasping at empty air. He fell out of
sight, pulling the drape after him. A silent scream ripped from Kara as she saw
the fabric catch for a second on the edge of the window frame. She thought it
might hold, then it too slipped from sight.

           
NO!!!

           
You watch the detective fall to his
death. It's a three-story drop. And if the fall in itself isn't enough, there's
a patio below ringed with a wrought iron fence. The fence is directly below the
window. It's not spiked, but it will break Detective Harris in two when he
strikes it.

           
But now for the second part of the
plan: the child.

           
You turn and see her horrified face
as she runs up to where you stand. All you have to do is grab her arm and
propel her the rest of the way through the shattered window, to follow her
father down in death. She's at your side now. You reach for her arm—

           
There's movement at the window. It
catches the corner of your eye. You look. It's a hand—bloody, but rising over
the corner of the floor-level sill, grasping the side of the frame.

           
The detective didn't fall all the
way!

           
He's
alive
! Kara cries.
Thank God
!

           
You rush forward and see that he
somehow managed to grab hold of the cornice that runs along the back of the
house at the level of each floor. And now he's climbing back in! He's got to be
stopped! He's barely holding on by his fingertips.

           
"I'll remedy that!"

           
A quick slash or two at his hands
with one of these glass daggers littering the floor should send him down to
where he should already be.

           
Don't!
Leave him alone!

           
You pick up a slim, sharp shard of
glass. This should do it. As you shift it in your hand it slips. You grab for
it with the other hand and feel a piercing pain in your palm—

           
—and suddenly the world is dark and
your body is bloated and thick and small and your limbs are scrawny things that
you can barely move. "NO!"

           
Kara's knees suddenly went out from
under her and she fell forward, nearly tumbling out the window herself. The
pain in her palm was blinding. She turned her hand to look at the bloody glass
dagger protruding from both sides. All the way through! Pain blazed anew,
higher than before as she pulled it free.

           
And then Kara realized that
she
had turned her hand,
she
had removed the glass—not someone
else.

           
"I'm free!" she screamed
aloud. "Oh, God, I'm
free!"

           
But how? Why? Her mind raced. Kelly
had got free of him—and Kelly had a deep bite mark on her shoulder. Lazlo had
got free of him—right after being knocked down by a car.

           
Rob had raised his head and
shoulders above the sill. He glared at her with a mixture of fear and fury.

           
"Pain, Rob!
Pain
! That's the key! Pain cuts the
contact, breaks his control!"

           
As he levered himself over the sill
and onto the floor, Rob looked at her with confused eyes, full of mistrust.