BoneMan's Daughters (32 page)

“Out of the question,” Kracker said.

She held up her hand. “Hypothetically.”

“If I was sure you wouldn’t interfere. It’s not just a meeting. I have no idea what he’ll want to do. The tag couldn’t be
a recording device or anything large enough to find if he searched me.”

“If he showed, we could sweep in and take him.”

“He’s too smart for that. How do I know you’d keep your word?”

“She won’t keep her word because this is a nonstarter,” Kracker said.

“Sir, if you’d just think about our current situation and—”

“I have thought about our current situation!” Kracker stood and walked to the door. “He’s escaped us once; the public would
go ballistic. The answer is no. End of discussion.”

He could see by the bunching of her jaw muscles that Valentine didn’t like being summarily shut down, but she let the matter
drop.

She pushed her chair back and stood. “Then I suggest you come clean, Mr. Evans. If you’re right, time is running out. You
may be willing to move heaven and earth to save your daughter, but the fact is I’m the only one who can move anything at this
point. And believe it or not, I’m as eager as you are to find Bethany before it’s too late.”

She turned to exit but turned back at the door. “Please, help me find her. Call me at any time; I’ll be waiting.” And then
she too was gone and Ryan sat alone with the guard in the corner, who studied him silently.

He stared at the handcuffs and he wondered if BoneMan had broken any of Bethany’s bones.

The thought made him want to throw up.

BETHANY SAT PERFECTLY still, eyes glued to the door latch as it rattled, then slowly lifted. Her heart pounded in her ears,
and once again she considered lying down because her captor might be the type who was easily angered by anything less than
absolute submission. If so, she would submit.

Or he could be the type who respected strength.

Strength, she decided, and sat still, facing the door as it slowly opened.

The man who walked in was tall with close-cropped hair and deep-set eyes hidden by the dim light that filtered through the
cracks in the corners. He wore loose-fitting pants, the kind that had extra pockets on the thigh, and his shirt was tucked
in, a normal cotton shirt like the ones worn by mechanics or janitors.

But the man who stared at her from the open doorway was no mechanic, unless you considered doctors to be mechanics, which
in a way they were.

This was BoneMan. In his own way he was an orthopedist like Dr. Johnson, who’d set her collarbone two years earlier after
she’d fallen during a routine dismount. And although Bethany’s hands trembled in her lap, she had every intention of treating
him with as much respect as she would show any other doctor.

“Nice of you to finally make it,” she said.

Her voice came out tight, obviously emotional, but she could only control her body so much.

“Would you mind switching rooms?”

The question caught her off guard so she stood and answered the only thing that popped into her mind. “Okay.”

The man stepped to one side and held out his arm. “Take my hand.”

She walked up to him, hesitated for only a moment, then took his large hand. It was soft and cool, not rough like the hands
of a man who lifted rocks and mowed lawns for a living.

She was speaking before she had time to really consider her words. “Your hands aren’t what I expected,” she said.

He just looked at her.

She’d been so eager for this meeting, knowing that her only hope for survival depended on her ability to change either him,
herself, or both, that she was rushing into her ploy with far too much energy. He’d see past her actions and label them as
manipulation immediately!

“They’re soft. It’s not the kind of place you expect to find a man who smells like lotion and has soft hands.”

“Thank you,” the man said.

He held her hand firmly but not forcefully as he led her from the room, down a hall, past a flight of concrete stairs to a
door near the end.

“You can relieve yourself in this bathroom. The toilet doesn’t flush; I’ll have to do it later. I’ve taken out everything
that you could use as a weapon, which is why the workings of the toilet are gone. But at least you’ll have privacy.” He pushed
the door open and walked down the hall, where he turned and looked at her. “Please don’t take too long.”

She stepped into a small basement bathroom lit by the crack from the door. A single ceramic toilet that looked and smelled
as though it might have been cleaned with bleach recently sat along the wall. The room had been stripped of everything else
except for a small packet of Kleenex. Even the toilet seat was gone.

BoneMan was not only a clean man, he was a very careful man.

She tried to relieve herself, but the rim of the bowl was cold and her future was uncertain and she couldn’t relax. Then again,
taking the time to urinate would show him that she wasn’t too uncomfortable to maintain her basic bodily functions. She’d
already begun to bond with him by showing respect and strength. Relieving herself now would only help her.

So she took her time and finally managed to empty what was left in her bladder.

Satisfied that he knew she still possessed the frame of mind to carry on, she took the packet of Kleenex and stepped into
the hall. He stood patiently at the end of the hallway.

“Do you mind if I take these?” she asked, holding up the Kleenex.

“Be my guest. Your room is the one at the end. The door’s open.”

The thought of going into another room, especially one already called her room, was terrifying. But Bethany turned on her
heels and pushed into the room without showing the slightest fear.

The man walked in behind her and motioned to a metal bed stretched out along the far wall. “Have a seat on the bed.”

She obeyed him. He crossed to a lamp that hung from a twelve-by-twelve overhead beam, lit the flame, and blew out the match.
Yellow light chased away the darkness from the corners of the room.

The man shut the door, latched it with a padlock, slipped the key into his pocket. This room was twice as large as the one
she’d occupied for the last few days, but otherwise very similar, from the bed to the post that rose to the ceiling at the
center. Same walls, same ceiling, latticed with brown roots that looked dead or dying.

The only difference was the strange crosslike contraption fixed to the wall to her left. Blocks of wood that looked like they’d
been glued or nailed into the concrete behind them. There were gaps between the blocks and they formed an upside down Y with
a cross member at the top. She wasn’t sure what it was—likely the remains of something that had once been built against the
wall.

“My name is Alvin,” the man said.

She turned back to him and saw that he was standing with both hands buried in his pants pockets.

“Some people call me BoneMan. I also like to think of myself as Satan. You can call me Alvin, or Satan, but please don’t call
me BoneMan. It looks fine on paper, but I don’t like the sound of it.”

This was it, Bethany thought. The time had finally come. She didn’t know his plans yet, but they hardly mattered now. What
did matter was that she find a way to connect to this monster. To Satan. Alvin.

She was going to make a deal with the devil and he stood before her now with his hands in his pockets, smelling like lotion.

Bethany stood. “What kind of lotion do you use?”

“Noxzema,” he said, removing his hands from his pockets.

“Never heard of it.”

“My mother used to use it. She gave me my first jar when I was a boy and I’ve used it every day since. It has medicinal properties
that keep the skin smooth. She used to mock me because my skin wasn’t smooth like hers but that changed after I used the product.
But we’re not here to talk about lotion, are we, Bethany.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Do you know why I brought you here?”

“To break my bones.”

“Then you don’t understand yet.” He paused, wearing a shallow frown. “Or maybe you’re stupid, like the others. If you’re stupid
then I will have to break your bones.”

Bethany walked slowly toward the metal post that rose to the ceiling and placed her hand on it to steady herself.

“I think you know I’m not stupid, Alvin. I’m just at a disadvantage. It’s not like you invited me here. I’ve been waiting
for you to explain yourself to me for days now. How am I supposed to know why you brought me here if you refuse to tell me?”

He watched her with deep-set eyes, hands still in his pockets. She’d seen a thousand men like Alvin on the street, at the
mall, in the stands at football games, and had never thought twice. But there was a quality deeply, darkly disturbing about
the man’s eyes.

If she’d seen him in the football stands and made direct eye contact, she would have undoubtedly shivered and certainly never
forgotten the look.

It was a look of bottomless evil. His pupils fell into hell. Satan was a fitting name, she thought, and she was unable to
suppress another shiver. But her hand was still on the steel post, steadying her, and she doubted he could see just how disturbed
she was by his presence.

She had to break his relentless stare. “Well? Are you going to tell me why you brought me here?”

“If you’re not stupid, you’ll figure it out.”

“I’ve been thinking for a long time and I can’t understand why anyone would take someone they don’t know from their bed in
the middle of the night and lock them in a basement while they wait to break their bones.”

It came out like an accusation, and hearing her mistake, she quickly changed tones.

“At least that’s what I thought at first. Then I realized that you probably do know me. You probably have a very good reason
for doing what you’re doing. You’re not a lunatic without purpose; you have a very deliberate plan and have killed seven other
girls as part of that plan.”

He didn’t speak. She was talking too much. She needed him to speak. She needed him to feel connected to her so that ultimately
he might, however unlikely, reconsider breaking her bones until she was dead.

“I want to understand, Alvin. I really do. None of the others did, but before I die, I want to understand.”

The man’s hands were by his sides, as if he was unsure what to do with them. When he spoke, he did so softly.

“The other ones I killed quickly. By now half of their bones would be broken and they would be all twisted up on the ground,
trying to breathe. But you”—he breathed in through his nose and swallowed hard—“you’re different. I hope you realize that.”

He was shaking. He stood there five feet from her, looking with those brilliant blue eyes, and he was shivering like she was
shivering.

A man and a girl, facing each other in this basement, silently shaking.

“Do you know what your name means?” he asked.

She knew from her theology class at Saint Michael’s Academy. A derivative of Elizabeth. “My God is an oath,” she said.

“And has your father been good to his promise?”

He was using father and God interchangeably.

“No.”

“My mother failed me too. I hate mothers. I hate fathers. They’re all liars.”

“So we do share some things in common.” Her tremors had passed and she was thinking again, and above all she was aware that
she shouldn’t threaten him by trying to gain control of anything, including the conversation.

He looked at her for a long time, as if trying to judge her sincerity.

“Do you like my eyes?” Alvin asked.

They were beautiful and deeply disturbing at once. “They’re pretty.”

“So are yours. I like blue eyes.”

She shivered involuntarily.

“Would you like to see my skin?” he asked.

What struck Bethany most forcefully now was her lack of fear in his presence. In a strange way she felt relieved to be with
him. It was far better than the uncertainty that had stalked her for days. Standing here with Alvin was oddly comforting.
She was going to embrace a part of him, she knew that, and it wasn’t as horrifying as she’d imagined it might be.

The man before her was now her means of survival. He was her savior. Alvin was her only hope for life and she clung to it
as he might.

“Yes. Yes, Alvin, I would like to see your skin.”

He began to unbutton his shirt and when he’d unclasped the last button, he slipped it off, folded it in quarters, and gently
laid it on the ground.

Alvin Finch’s skin was white. A pasty translucent white that showed the blue veins just beneath the skin that stretched over
his shoulders and arms. His chest was smooth and looked strong, though not cut like a body builder’s.

There were many things about this moment that might have urged Bethany to begin crying. She was the captive of a man who shaved
his whole body, applied lotion, and abducted girls so that he could break their bones. That man had just taken off his shirt
and was staring at her with the scariest eyes she had ever looked into. And now he was approaching her. Slowly, like Stephan
Hill on that first and last date, when he’d made a pass at her.

But crying was the furthest thing from her mind.

Alvin Finch stopped three feet from her, staring down, breathing steady. She refused to look into his eyes, fixing instead
on his chest, which was eye level. The smell of his lotion was both sweet and medicinal and his skin seemed to glow in the
flame’s light.

She’d once read a series of books about a woman who’d fallen in love with a vampire, and the images of that seduction swept
through her mind. But there was no temptation to taste the forbidden fruit here.

There was only revulsion.

A tear slipped down her cheek. She was crying? She couldn’t cry! Not here right in front of him. The dark veins etched beneath
his skin looked like they were filled with black brine, not red blood. His chest rose and fell, closely shaved, smooth, and
the briefest compulsion to reach out and touch it crossed her mind, chased away by fear.