Until Dark (25 page)

“If that’s all true, I can’t believe that no one knew . . . that Zach’s father . . .” Kendra tried to comprehend how a child like Zach could have been left in such a situation.

He laughed out loud.

“Zach’s father? He could have been any one of a dozen men who stayed on the ranch from time to time.”

“But surely someone . . .”

“Someone like who? Zach never went to school, Kenny. Sierra didn’t even care enough about him to make the effort to make sure he got to school. She told Mom that he was being home-schooled. What a laugh.” He leaned across the table and said, very deliberately, “No one even knew he was alive.”

“How can that be?” Kendra held her head in her hands. “Surely, he had medical treatment at some time.”

“Holistic,” he told her. “There was a woman on the ranch who was part Native American. She grew herbs and treated everyone with some concoctions she mixed up.”

“But there were other children there, on the ranch.”

“From time to time, yes. No one ever stayed all that long. Except for Zach.”

“He was twelve years old that last summer,” she recalled. “How could he have lived for twelve years without someone knowing he was there?”

“There was no reason why anyone should,” he shrugged. “He was born on the ranch. He told me one time that he didn’t even have a birth certificate.”

“Poor Zach . . .” Kendra’s eyes filled with tears. “Why didn’t he tell us? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Maybe he didn’t say anything because he was too embarrassed. And frankly, I think he might have been afraid of the consequences. His mother was, well, what she was, but she was still his mother, I guess.” He shrugged. “And I didn’t say anything ’cause, well, hell, Kenny, what do you think
she
would have done? Gone to court, gotten custody, probably send Sierra to jail.”

“If by
she
, you mean Mom, you’re damned right she would have.” Kendra’s voice shook with indignation. “She would have done all those things. She would have fought to bring Zach out here.”

“Oh, and wouldn’t that have just been swell news for me,” he hissed. “No thank you. One Smith son under this roof was just plenty.”

“You would permit your own cousin to live like that because you didn’t want to share your home with him?” Her eyes widened with incredulity. “You were that selfish?”

“Yes,” he said without apology.

“Why did Sierra let him come here, then? Why did she let you go there? And why didn’t Mom ever
know
?”

“I don’t think Mom gave her much choice. And Sierra, she always cleaned up before she talked to Mom on the phone. I think the first time I went out, she was nervous. But she figured out real fast that I wouldn’t tell. She knew I liked it there.”

“I want to know what happened to Zach.” She repeated the question that had started the conversation.

“Let’s just say that Zach,” he appeared to choose his words carefully, “won’t be heard from again.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, dear sister,” he grinned, “that our dear cousin Zachary has gone to that big Smith reunion in the sky.”

“How . . . did it happen?”

“You really want to know?”

She nodded.

“We went out camping. He was going to take me to see this old Indian guy so I could buy some things. The third or fourth night out it got cold, so we started looking for some shelter. He went into a cave in the side of the hill.” He paused and looked up at her. “You’ll never guess what was in that cave.”

“Bees,” she whispered. “There were bees in the cave.”

“Bingo.” His brows raised in surprise. “Well, we always knew how smart you were, but I’d have to say, that was one damned smart guess. How’d you come up with that answer, just like that?” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

“They found . . . remains. In a cave.” Her throat tightened.

“What?”

“They found remains that might be Zach’s.”

“When?”

“This afternoon.”

“This afternoon, eh?” He appeared thoughtful. “Well, how’s that for timing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that it appears the both of us have chosen the same moment to, well, to
resurface
.” He smiled charmingly. “Isn’t that something? Ian and Zach, together again. Who’d have thunk it?”

Chapter
Twenty-one

“Where have you been all these years?” she asked suddenly, her mind processing everything he’d said since he’d started talking.

“Here and there.”

“Why?” She searched for words. “Why did you—”

“Pretend to be dead?” He smiled, an “I’ve got a secret” smile, but still, offered no answer.

“Why didn’t you contact me before this? Why now?”

“Well, it isn’t as if I haven’t been doing my damnedest to get your attention.”

Kendra froze.

“What did you say?”

“I said, I have been trying to get your attention for, oh, it’s been almost two years, now.”

The hairs on the back of Kendra’s neck bristled. What was it that someone—Miranda, or had it been Anne Marie McCall?—had said?

I think this guy’s been trying to get your attention for a long time.

No, she shook her head slightly, still trying to deny the truth she’d been avoiding since she’d turned and seen him standing in the doorway. It was too terrible, too monstrous.

A wave of nausea washed over her, and her knees buckled. She turned back to the sink and gripped the edge of the counter so tightly her knuckles went white. The hum inside her head became a roar.

No.

“Do they still harvest the cranberries from the bogs down on the other side of the lake?” he asked, as if this were just another day.

“Yes.”

“We’ll take the canoe down later, after we have pancakes. Though I guess it’s way early for cranberries.”

“How did you know that Selena was out of town?” She turned to him suddenly.

“Oh, I broke into her house. I was disappointed that she wasn’t there—now there’s a woman I’d like to get to know better.” He smiled as if he were any normal man, expressing a normal interest in any woman, and terror reached toward Kendra’s soul. “Anyway, I listened to the messages on her answering machine, and I heard yours.”

“What is it you want?” Kendra’s heart was pounding, the buzz in her veins louder now, as disbelief and fear continued to swell within her.

“Right now, I just want a friendly reunion with my big sister.”

“Beyond that. There must be something more.”

“Ahhh, patience, Kendra. That can wait.”

“Where’s the real Joe Clark?”

“I don’t think you really want to know.”

She turned back to mixing the batter so that she did not have to look at him.

Whoever this man is, he’s severely unbalanced
.
But is he my brother?

How to gain the upper hand?

“Did you poison Selena’s dog?” The thought had not been considered until the words fell from her mouth.

“Well, I tried to.” He grinned sheepishly.

“Why?” Kendra’s fists clenched. “Why would you do such a thing to such a sweet animal?”

“That dog was a pain in my ass,” he stated coolly. “Every time I came around, that damn dog was here. Barking and running along the back of the stream, sometimes I couldn’t even get out of the canoe.”

“Where did you get the canoe?”

“From Father Tim’s.” He grinned again. “You know that he highly recommends communing with nature. He thinks it soothes and relaxes. Not that I doubt anything he says, mind you. I’d have been nowhere without Father Tim. Everything I’ve been able to accomplish, I owe to him.”

“And what, exactly, have you accomplished?”

He smiled serenely. “The stuff dreams are made of, Kenny.”

“Dreams, or nightmares?”

He shrugged. “One man’s dream is another man’s nightmare.”

“You raped and killed all those women.” The words slipped out past her lips.

“Yes.” His blithe admission shocked her.

“Why?”

“I had to get your attention in a meaningful way.”

“You murdered seven women to just get my attention?” she whispered in horror. Her stomach lurched and she fought back another wave of nausea, bit back the urge to scream.

“Eleven.” He corrected her pointedly. “I killed
eleven
women to get your attention. There were four on the West Coast, would have been more, but you moved, and then I had to go to the trouble of finding you all over again.”

Knees knocking together, legs weakened beyond their ability to support her, Kendra slumped over the side of the counter, leaned over the sink, and lost her lunch.

He sat, watching calmly, until she had finished gagging. Choking and coughing, she ran the water in the sink until the mess went down, then soaked paper towels to wipe the sweat from her face.

“Are you finished?” he asked without emotion.

When she didn’t respond, he shifted in his seat and said, “I asked you a question. Are you finished?”

Still leaning against the sink, she nodded.

“Did you clean up your mess like a good girl?”

She nodded again.

“Sit down, Kendra.”

She slumped into the nearest chair, speechless.

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to talk about this after all, aren’t we? You know, I really hadn’t planned on it, at least not yet. Not today. I’d really just hoped for a pleasant reunion in my ancestral home.” He stretched his legs out to one side and rested his shoulders against the back of the chair.

“You just remember, this was your idea, okay? So if any of it bothers you, you have no one to blame but yourself. Then again,” he smirked, “all those cases you worked on with the FBI, I guess you’re not very squeamish, are you?”

He was mocking her and she knew it. He’d just watched her throw up in the sink.

“I mean, I’ll bet it takes a lot to gross you out, doesn’t it?”

“No,” she told him, shaking her head. “Anyone with a conscience—”

“Now, see, I just don’t think I have one. I guess that’s something you need to understand right up front.”

She looked confused, and he laughed.

“Hey, I don’t know why.” He shrugged. “Must have been something that happened to me when I was a kid. Maybe it was genetic, who knows? Maybe that was something that me and Sierra had in common. Nothing she did ever seemed to affect her either.”

His face hardened for a moment.

“But I can tell you,” he went on, “that I’ve never felt the least bit sorry for anything I’ve done. I can’t help it, Kenny. And it isn’t as if I haven’t tried. I mean, every time, I tried to feel something. Anything. But I don’t.”

“Nothing at all?” She barely recognized her own voice.

He shook his head. “Nope. Not sorry. Not upset. It didn’t even make me particularly happy.”

Looking up at her with blank eyes, he said, “I had a friend in ’Frisco. He’s the one who taught me how to do it right, where to apply the pressure.” He held up his hands, wiggled his fingers. “He liked to watch the light go out . . . you know what I mean?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just kept talking slowly, his voice a monotone, his expression somewhat puzzled, as if for a moment he, too, sought understanding.

“He said that when he put his hands around a woman’s throat and squeezed, their eyes stayed open and he could watch the light go out inside them, and when it was happening, he was filled with peace. It made him happy,” he said softly. “I thought maybe if I,” he sighed, then shrugged, his moment of introspection gone. “Well, it really didn’t do much for me, you know what I mean?”

“Then why did you keep doing it?” Her voice was shaky, her eyes burning with tears.

“I wanted you to notice me.” He lit another cigarette, intently watched the match burn down before continuing. “I thought it would be fun, you know? You being the big compositor for the FBI,” his voice boomed importantly. “The press out there in California made such a big deal out of you, I saw your picture in the paper, and I saw you on TV and I said, Wow! That’s Kenny! Well, I have to admit, I was proud to be related to you. I told everyone that you were my sister, not that anyone out there believed me. But then I thought, well, let’s see just how good she really is. Let’s see if she can sketch me. Let’s see if she
knows
me.”

You killed all those women just to see if I’d recognize your face?
She willed herself not to cry out in horror, to moan with repulsion that this man, this man who claimed to be her flesh and blood, could be capable of such twisted reasoning, of such terrible acts.

“Pretty clever, don’t you think? I really thought you’d catch on, Kendra,” he said with the same enthusiasm as some others might discuss the plot of the latest mystery novel. “I thought you’d figure it out. Frankly, I was disappointed that you never did. I admit the disguises lately would have made it difficult, but your drawings, right from the start, were too good and I was afraid someone would recognize me, maybe I’d get caught before you caught on.” He sighed again. “I was really disappointed when you didn’t recognize me.”

“How could I have recognized you? I haven’t seen you in ten years, and then, you were a
child
! Why would I have even thought . . .” Her mind whirled at the sheer insanity of it all. “You were
dead
. Everyone believed you were dead.”

“I thought
blood
would know
blood
.” He hissed, and she jumped at his vehemence.

He stubbed out his cigarette and immediately lit another.

“Well, I’m back now, Kendra, and I’ll stay as long as I damn well please.”

Kendra sat stock-still, watching the face of the man fill with quiet rage as he spoke. There was nothing about him that was familiar to Kendra. Not the rage, not the evil, not the cold eyes, not the man who could conceive of murdering good and innocent women and feel nothing.

Her parents had both been gentle and kind souls, and had filled their home with love and laughter. How could such a pair have spawned such a monster?

“Yes,” she said, “you’re back now.”

“Home.” He dared her to challenge him.

“Yes.” She stood on weak legs and turned back to the stove, forcing a calm she didn’t feel, wondering how she was going to escape from here. “Home.”

“I thought you’d see it my way,” he said smugly. “Now, what’s happening with my pancakes?”

“Just a few minutes.” She turned on the burner under the frying pan to heat it, adding milk sloppily to the mix she’d measured out in the bowl, her mind frozen.

Her stomach lurched as the smell of the pancake batter reached her nostrils.

“Why those women?” she asked sadly, her voice quivering. “Why women who’d leave behind so much? Women who gave so much . . . who loved so much.”

“I don’t feel like talking about them now. Right now, I want my pancakes and I want my coffee,” he said sullenly, pointing out, “You forgot my coffee.”

I’ve been a bit distracted
, her whirling mind wanted to scream. But she held on to her composure as she filled the pot with water and measured coffee into the pot, wondering how to gain advantage long enough to get away. To get to her car.

Her purse, car keys inside, were in the front hallway. What excuse could she make to get it?

Or maybe a weapon . . . what could she use as a weapon? There were knives, yes, in the drawer, but could he not turn a knife on her? She was strong and in good shape, but he appeared to be as well, and had the advantage of height and weight. He could overpower her easily.

He pointed to the frying pan. “The pan is starting to smoke.”

She poured batter into the pan without measuring.

“How did you meet Father Tim?” he asked. A normal question, the kind a sibling would ask after a long separation. As if there had been no talk of dead women or abused children.

Kendra’s stomach turned again.
This can’t be happening. It can’t be happening.

“Through Selena.”

Focusing her attention on the lone pancake in the frying pan, watching the bubbles rise in the batter, she thought back on days long ago when she stood in front of the stove at the house in Princeton, listening to Ian’s chatter about school and that day’s soccer or baseball practice. Ian had loved to play soccer.

“Where did you live?” she asked, the thought occurring to her. There’d been so much so fast, she’d hardly had time to think.

“On the streets.”

“Where?”

“San Francisco, mostly. That summer, me and Zach were watching TV one night and there was a documentary about these runaways who lived together out there, like a family. It looked so cool, the way they helped each other, like a real family.”

“You had a real family.” She turned to him with a frown. “Why wasn’t that good enough?”

“We talked about that, Kenny,” he said calmly. “I don’t want to talk about that again.”

The first real stirrings of anger began to push aside the fear, ever so slightly, within her.

“You put us—her and me—through hell.” She turned on him with a growl. “She never stopped weeping for you. There wasn’t a day that passed that she didn’t mourn for you. Don’t tell me you don’t want to talk about it.”

His reaction was swift. In less than a blink, he had her by her wrists.

“You’re breaking my heart,” he snarled. “Don’t make me break your arms.”

They locked eyes, and he held her still, for another moment. The fury in his eyes was terrifying. Whatever demon drove him was very close to the surface.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Kenny.” He dropped her hands. “Do not make me hurt you.”

He backed up, slowly, his breath coming in ragged spurts as he visibly struggled to regain his composure.

“Turn that over,” he said, pointing to the pancake. “It’s going to burn. You know I don’t like burned pancakes.”

He sat down again, lit another cigarette. For a time, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall and the soft rustle of the evening breeze through the large maple tree outside. She turned the pancake onto a plate and offered it to him without speaking.

He pushed the plate back to her, saying, “Keep it warm while you make more. I want a whole stack. And get yourself a plate. I want you to eat with me.”

“I’m not hungry.” The thought of putting food into her mouth made her blanch. How could anyone eat in the presence of such a monster?

“I said, I want you to eat with me.”

She poured more batter into the pan and got out a second plate, wondering how late Adam’s plane would be. What were the chances he’d arrive soon?