“And you don’t give a damn.”
Was he supposed to care? “She used to beat me within an inch of my life.” She deserved whatever she got.
“She was none too nice to me, either. But I guess you don’t remember that.”
He remembered she hadn’t been half as mean to Valerie. She’d needed Valerie. Valerie had taken care of her. Valerie had taken care of him, too, so his mother wouldn’t have to. Valerie could do anything; she knew how to survive.
“I’m not here to argue with you about the past. What happened happened and there’s no changing it.”
“Such sympathy,” he murmured.
“Feeling sorry for yourself will get you nowhere.” She brushed at an imaginary speck of dust on her uniform. “She said you haven’t been to see her once.”
“I don’t want to see her.”
“She wasn’t a perfect mother, but she’s still your mother.”
“And you’re still my sister and I don’t like you any better.” He’d been dying to say those words but, once they were out, he was as shocked as she seemed to be. He was also encouraged. Maybe it was the memory of his recent kill, the memory of wielding that power. It was so intoxicating it made him reckless.
“What’d you say?” Her mouth hung open. It was almost as good as having her look in his freezer.
Almost. But not quite.
“You heard me.”
“That’s a fine thank-you for all I’ve done for you,” she said. “Do you have any idea what I gave up to make sure you had what you needed?”
Gruber nearly cackled with incredulity. She’d never given him what he needed. No one had. But the old Gruber was suddenly hesitant to press his advantage. “I was just joking,” he mumbled, trying to reel in the emotions banging around inside him.
“Very funny. You never did know how to win friends and influence people.”
She was back in charge, grinding her point painfully home. “If only I could’ve had a normal little brother, maybe my life wouldn’t have been such hell.”
How many times had he heard that? It was the reason he’d killed her cat when he was thirteen and shoved it in the backpack she’d left on the patio. She’d believed her rival at school had done the deed—a girl who used to taunt her for their poverty.
Valerie had never figured out it was him. But he’d enjoyed her tears that night. She’d deserved the punishment. He only gave people what they deserved.
“Is that why you came?” he asked. “To convince me to visit Mother for a tearful send-off as she approaches the pearly gates?”
“I have no illusions that she’s venturing anywhere close to heaven. A woman who slept around as much as she did has no hope of that. Sometimes I hate her as much as you do. But…I’m thinking about later, about the fact that we may never have the chance to make peace with her if we don’t do it now.” She studied him for a moment, then released a long sigh. “And I thought it might help you get your shit together to finally bury the hatchet.”
“I don’t have to. I’m happy the way I am.”
“Happy?” she scoffed. “How can you be happy? You’re forty years old, you don’t have a friend in the world and you live in a dump.”
Gruber couldn’t have said what, exactly, provoked him. His sister was treating him the same way she always had. But he grabbed her by the wrist before he knew he was going to do it. And then that look came into her eyes. The flash of fear that whetted his appetite for dominance.
“Let go. You’re hurting me!” She tried for her usual “I’m in command” tone, but her voice faltered just enough to tell him she wasn’t quite sure of herself. He could do this. He could kill her like the others. She was nothing special, no big deal, no different from any other fragile human. Not now.
“That’s what I want to do,” he whispered vehemently.
“You’re crazy. I’ve always known it.” The fear was undisguised now. It flared her nostrils, dilated her eyes, filling him with a sense of power, and power was the antidote to the miserable helplessness that plagued him at all other times. “Let go before you do something you’ll regret.”
“I won’t regret this,” he promised. “I’m going to hurt you and hurt you and hurt you some more, until you beg me on bended knee to stop. And then I’m going to carve your heart out of your chest and put it in my freezer.” He let his eagerness reveal itself in a broad smile. “I’m definitely going to want something special to remember this moment.”
“My God,” she whispered, and that was when he realized she knew he was completely serious.
Romain felt useless while Jasmine worked on her computer, trying to e-mail the video clip in a format most servers could handle. She’d managed to contact whoever she was sending it to, and that person seemed confident he could get someone else to help her. But Romain wasn’t so sure he wanted to know whether or not he’d fired that gun. It was one thing when he thought Moreau had killed his little girl; it was another now that he faced some doubt. “Can I borrow this?”
Jasmine pulled her attention from the computer long enough to see what he wanted. “Sure.”
Taking her cell phone, he stepped outside the Internet café and dialed Huff’s number in Colorado.
“Hello?”
He assumed it was Marcie, Huff’s wife. “Is Alvin home?”
“No. I’m afraid he’s been called away on business. Can I take a message?”
“It’s Romain, Marcie.”
“I thought I recognized that voice. How are you, Romain?” She seemed genuinely interested.
“Fine,” he replied. It was true. Despite everything Jasmine was stirring up, he was doing better than he had since prison. But he didn’t want to consider why.
Because that had something to do with Jasmine, too. “When did Alvin leave?”
“A couple of days ago. He was supposed to be back yesterday for Christmas dinner, but an urgent matter came up and he called to tell me he couldn’t make it.”
“Did he happen to mention where he was going?”
“He’s in New Orleans. He said if you called to give you his cell number. He’s been trying to reach you.”
Romain gripped the phone tighter. “Did he provide any details?”
“No, but that’s not unusual,” she said with a weary chuckle. “He never does.