‘He put her into the water. He tied something around her legs and she couldn’t swim with all that weight. She just sank. She sank real fast. It was so …’
She doesn’t finish the sentence.
‘Put your seatbelt on, Stacey.’
‘Okay’ She answers as if on automatic now. ‘Do you have a cellphone? I can call the police.’
“It’S not on me. If you don’t think you can drive, then wait at the exit from the graveyard.’
‘What way is that?’
‘Turn around and go back the way he came. You’ll see where to go soon enough.’
‘Okay’
And Stacey?’
‘Yes.’
‘Take your time. There’s no hurry now. I have a promise to keep.’
chapter fifty-nine
There has to be a shovel around here somewhere but I can’t see it. I don’t want to spend long looking for it, and after about a minute I figure that’s long enough. The night is quiet except for the wind swirling around the trees and the rain slapping on the ground.
I shine the torch into the grave, and David is lying there in the same position I left him.
‘Hey hey, David, wake up. Hey!’
I pick up handfuls of dirt and start throwing them at his face, hoping they’ll bring him around but they don’t. My hand is aching from the punch I threw. I throw more dirt at David.
He groans. He looks half asleep as he tries to roll over inside the coffin. Things get a little awkward for him, and he reaches up to his face and a moment later opens his eyes.
Everything must flood back to him, because now he sits up straight. His arm is on a funny angle and he stares at it with a confused look. He seems to understand what has happened just as the pain hits him. His face tightens up as he tries to cradle his bad arm with his good.
‘What the fuck?’ he says.
‘Remember me?’ I ask.
He looks up at me, and I point the torch at myself so he can get a good look.
“Yeah look, Mister, I don’t want any trouble here,’ David says, as if I’m the one causing trouble and he just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
‘Cut the bullshit, David. You’re not fooling me twice.’
‘I don’t even know who you are,’ he says, and a month ago he might have been able to act his way out of any situation. But right here, right now in this moment, the mask he wears to fit into and be a part of normal society doesn’t cover his eyes.
‘You know who I am.’
‘And what if I do?’
‘If you do, then you know you’re seriously fucked up right about now.’
‘So what, you’re going to kill me now? Is that your plan?’ he asks.
‘You know I really haven’t decided yet. That’s about as close as I can get. See, the last four weeks have been kind of tough on me. Hell, the last two years. I’m trying to weigh everything up, and I just don’t know.’
‘Fuck you.’ He gets to his feet and starts looking around, probably trying to figure out if he can climb out before I get to him. I wonder how he got Father Julian out. He doesn’t look strong enough to have lifted that much weight. I point the torch at the ground and pick out drag marks across the grass. He probably tied a rope around the body and towed it with his car. Maybe he towed him all the way to the lake.
‘Tell me why’ I say.
‘Get me the fuck out of here, man, my arm is killing me.’
‘Talk to me.’
‘No.’
‘Come on, tell me why. Was it because you liked fucking your sisters?’ I ask, trying to shock him.
He doesn’t answer. Just looks up at me.
‘That’s why you raped them all, right? Because you loved it.’
‘How the fuck can you know anything about anything?’
‘I heard the tapes, David. I know you enjoyed it.’
‘It’s so simple for you, isn’t it?’ he says, and here is the calm David again. And perhaps the real one lives in both worlds, Good and Bad, Light and Dark, a man who balances his life between creating an illusion and playing a monster. ‘Its simple to stand up there and look down on me, judging me, because you’re not the one with a head full of disgusting memories, you’re not the one who …’
‘You’re a sick fucker who acted out,’ I say. ‘That’s the bit I understand. Rachel didn’t deserve what you did to her, not by any means, but I can at least figure out why. What I can’t figure out is why the others) Why kill them?’
‘Why the fuck not?’
He reaches his hand out to the ground above the grave and I step towards it. He pulls it away without the need for me to crush his fingers.
‘When you were here two years ago for Rachel’s grandmother’s funeral, what happened? Who spoke to her?’
‘It wasn’t her.’
‘Somebody spoke to you? Was it Sidney Alderman?’
‘Just some old drunk who smelled like he hadn’t showered in about a month. I told him to fuck off. You want to know what he told me?’
‘What?’