one thing he could have done differently. It was always timing, he
thought wearily. If he had broken in the door five minutes earlier it
might have changed everything.
He stood again when he saw them come in. Marianne's eyes were red, but
he didn't think she would fall apart. She took the chair Michael
vacated. "I shouldn't have left her here by herseIL"
"It's not your fault," Johnno told her.
"No, it's not my fault. But I shouldn't have left her alone."
Ignoring the signs, Johnno pulled out a cigarette. Once it was lighted,
he handed it to Marianne. "Marianne filled me in on what's been going
on during the flight over. I assume you're aware that Latimer's been
abusing Emma for more than a year."
Michael crushed the empty Styrofoam cup with his fingers. "I don't know
the details. I'll take Emma's statement as soon as she's up to it."
"Statement." Marianne looked up. "Why does she have to make a
statement?"
"It's procedure." He glanced back toward Emma's door. "Just routine."
"But you'll do it," Johnno put in. "I wouldn't want her to have to talk
to a stranger."
"I'll take the statement."
With the ash growing long on her cigarette, Marianne studied him. He'd
more than lived up to the promise in the newspaper picture of ten years
before. At the moment, he looked tense and exhausted, dark shadows
under his eyes, lines of strain beside them. Despite them, she judged
him as a man to be depended upon. Whatever Emma had said to the
contrary, Michael Kesseiring looked precisely like Marianne's image of a
cop.
"Did you kill Drew?"
He shifted his gaze and met her eyes. More than anything he could
remember, he wished he could have said yes. "No. I was too late."
"Who did?"
"Emma."
"Oh Jesus," was all Johnno said.
"Look, I don't like leaving her alone," Michael said. "I'm going in to
sit with her. You might want to check into a hotel, get some rest."
"We'll stay." Marianne reached up to take Johnno's hand. "We can take
turns sitting with her."
With a nod, Michael went back into Emma's room.
SHE SURFACED AT DAWN. The light, dim as it was, relieved her. There had
been so many dreams, so many strange dreams through the night. Most of
them vanished, midnight mirages that slipped away in the sunlight. But
she knew she'd had the nightmare again. Almost, she could hear the echo
of music and the swish of shadows.
She struggled to throw off sleep, annoyed at first by the heaviness in
her limbs. It was frustrating that she could only open one eye. She
lifted a hand, found the bandage, and remembered.
Panic. It filled her lungs like smoke, almost choking her. She turned
her head, and saw Michael. He was slumped in the chair beside her bed,
his chin on his chest. One of his hands covered one of hers. She had
only to move her fingers to have him jerking awake.