Читаем The Lake полностью

“Can you tell me where this…dark place is? Can you see any landmarks—anything?”

She shook him off. Going quiet again, before resuming her story. “I keep getting these deep, desperate fear feelings. It’s dark, and I can’t see…I just know she’s in danger. Someone’s aiming to kill her. But not before he’s…done things to her…”

“Christ—anything else?”

“She’s in the wilderness, Warren. Metaphorically and physically…D’ya know what I mean?”

“Jesus, sis. We’ve gotta tell Mattie about this!”

“She’s a cop?”

“Sure. She knows the sicko who’s doing all this stuff to Deana. In fact, Leigh, Deana’s mom just told me the whole story. Sounded far-fetched, but it’s all kinda linked in with Deana’s disappearance.”

“A story, huh?” Sheena frowned. “A ‘far-fetched’ story…You better tell me about it…”

“So Ma Payne got rid of her kids? ’Cept Charlie. Jess turned into Mace and now Mace wants to kill Deana, because he can’t find sister Tania—meanwhile, any black-haired gal, but especially Deana, will do.

“Jess, aka Mace, can’t forgive Mom for killing Pa—and for giving him away like that…Am I right?”

“That’s about it, sis. This guy Mace is one fucked-up psycho. He does things to women. Then carves them up, apparently. Leigh said she and Mattie found a scrapbook at his apartment with pictures and press cuttings of his gruesome deeds…God only knows what he’s doing to Deana right now. At this very moment…” He faltered. “Maybe you can figure it out, Sheena. I certainly can’t!”

Warren paced up and down. Working things out. He’d go find Deana himself. But first, he had to decide which route to take.

Sabre sat, ears pricked, watching from the doorway.

Sheena’s eyes leveled with Warren’s. Sending him a cool glance, she said, “I know how this Mace character feels, Warren.”

“You WHAT? What the hell are you saying, Sheena? You can understand why this sick fuck is doing the things he does?”

“No, not that, bro. All I’m sayin’ is, I understand this Mace character hatin’ his mom for givin’ him away. Remember, Warren, I’ve been in the same position myself. I was adopted, too, don’t forget!” She turned, stared out the window, her anger showing. He could tell that by the way she squared her shoulders, held her back ramrod straight.

Sure, he remembered she’d been adopted. They both had. Just that he’d never felt the need to discuss it with her before. Far as he was concerned, Sheena was his big sister. Had been for as long as he could remember. And they’d both been treated equally by Mom and Dad—that had been their way.

Sheena turned from the window, her face harsh with concern. “Understandin’ the feelings of this guy is the only thing that strikes me right now, bro. I’m sorry, believe me. And sure, if you think it’ll help, I’ll talk to your Mattie woman.”

SIXTY-THREE

The door opened.

Deana flinched, twisting away from the blast of light.

She stumbled, tripped. Fell backward onto the mattress.

“That pleased to see me, huh?”

“Mace. I need water. Please lemme me have some water…”

“Hey. That’s nice. I like to hear my li’l girl saying pretty ‘please.’”

“Screw you, Mace.”

“Now, now. Don’t you go blottin’ your copybook. Say sorry, Deana—or do I have to smack your butt?” He put down his holdall and swaggered slowly toward her. A vague gray light snaked in through the dirt-streaked window, lifting the gloom, filtering across the grimy mattress. Deana crouched back in the shadows, hands clasping her drawn-up knees. Hugging them tight to her chest.

Mace bent down. He peered at her, smiling, his teeth a white slash against the dark of his face.

“Saw your mom today.”

Her eyes widened. Her breath quickened.

“Wanna know how your mother is, sweetheart?”

She gulped back a sob.

“How is my mother, Mace?”

“Frightened, sugar. Your mom’s one very frightened lady.”

Tears welled up. Hearing him say “mom” like that made her want to cry.

Mom, oh Mom…You gotta come an’ get me. Please!

Despair, and a seering desolation swept over her. She broke down, blurting shuddering sobs into her hands.

“Come, come. Here, I got you somethin’.”

She glared at him with red, swollen eyes.

He held up a film-wrapped sandwich. Shook it in her face. “C’mon. Eat. Don’t want y’dyin’ on me now. Eat like a good girl.”

“I want water. Gimme some water, Mace!”

“You’ll get your water when you’ve had this.”

She reached out, grabbed the sandwich, peeled the film from the bread, and stuffed one end into her mouth. She started chewing, then choking, her throat was so dry.

“Hold it!” He held up his hand. “Now, wouldn’t that make a pretty picture for your everlovin’ mom to see? Her little girl eating up her food?

“Stay like that, sweetheart. Don’t ya move, now.” He rummaged inside the holdall, bringing up the Nikon.

Lifting it to his eye.

Playing around with the lens.

Adjusting the flash.

Squinting into the viewfinder, firing off a few shots.