The Target

"Like I said," Virginia repeated, "he wanted to terrorize Molly. He wanted to make himself feel powerful. He'd failed to get Emma, but by calling Molly, he could win, at least for a while, until the both of you got back here."

His brain was beginning to function again, thank God. He could tell that Molly, too, was getting herself back together. As for Emma, he didn't know what they'd be facing with her. "Emma says he hit her on the head."

Molly patted her daughter's shoulder. "Em, does your head hurt?"

Emma sat up on Ramsey's lap. Slowly, she lifted her hand to touch above her left ear. "It's just a little lump."

"I saw you poke your head out of his overcoat."

Emma nodded. "I bit him through his shirt, too. Real hard. You told me never to give up and I didn't."

Virginia said, "In his side, Emma?"

"Yes."

"Which side?"

"His right side. I think it hurt him."

"Good for you." Ramsey cupped her face between his hands and kissed her nose. "Good for you, Em." He looked into that small face that had become so inexpressibly dear to him. It broke him. "Oh, Emma, I'm so sorry." He touched his forehead to hers. He felt the panic well up again, and that awful foreboding of sheer helplessness.

Slowly, Emma raised her small hand and lightly ran her fingers over his cheek. "I'm okay, Ramsey. You didn't do anything wrong. He was so fast. I was patting down one of my sand castle walls, and then he hit me."

Virginia Trolley turned away, cleared her throat, and said over her shoulder, "Emma, does your head hurt?"

"No, ma'am. It's just sore."

"Perhaps we should call Dr. Haversham again, Ramsey."

"All right. I'd sure feel better."

"I'm like my mama. I hate hospitals."

Ramsey and Molly exchanged glances.

"He wasn't wearing a mask this time, but he still had bad teeth."

Her voice sounded almost normal. She was sitting up straight now on Ramsey's legs. She was looking at Virginia.

"Did you notice anything else about him, Emma?"

"He smelled funny, just the way he did before."

"Funny how?" Virginia asked, taking a small pad of paper out of her purse and writing on it.

Emma shrugged. "Strong. Not nice."

"Whiskey," Ramsey said. "Was it whiskey?"

Emma wasn't certain. Ramsey lifted her in his arms and carried her over to the sideboard. He pulled the cork out of a bottle and lifted it to her nose. "Is this the smell?"

She scrunched up her face and jerked back. "Yes, Ramsey, like that. It's not a nice smell."

"No, it's not."

"And he had bad teeth?"

"Yes, ma'am, all black and yucky. I remember one was missing." She pulled open her lip and pointed to one of the incisors on the left.

"Good," Virginia said as she wrote. "Did he say anything to you, Emma?"

She shook her head. Ramsey returned to the sofa with her and sat back down beside Molly. "Think, Em. What were you doing just before he hit you on the head?"

"I was packing down sand."

"Then what?"

"I heard something. I looked up but something hit me and I don't remember."

"That's fine, Emma," Molly said. "All done in an instant of time." Emma slipped her hand into her mother's.

Virginia Trolley quietly closed her small notebook. She nodded to Ramsey. "He's made a mistake. He's close. Now maybe we can get this monster. Emma, you're the greatest. Ramsey told me you got away from this jerk before. You did it again. Now, you need to take care of Ramsey and your mom, okay? They aren't doing so well right now."

"Yes, Officer, I will."

Ramsey said, "Emma, can you give a police artist a description of the man? This time he wasn't wearing a mask."

"I can try, Ramsey."

Virginia Trolley said, "I'll send someone right over. You're a good girl, Emma. I'll see you later."

"I don't think you should ever go to the bathroom again, Mama, unless I go with you. Ramsey either."

Virginia Trolley heard Mrs. Santera laugh as she walked out the front door. It was a shaky thin sound, but still a laugh.

27

BOTH EMMA AND Molly were openmouthed when they stepped into the reception.area of Dromoland Castle, with its circular, gray stone inside the same as outside, and its giant windows, ancient tapestries, and smiling Irish. Dromoland had once been the stronghold of the O'Briens and was now a huge, turreted Gothic-style stone building that had been turned into a hotel in the early part of the century. It was a sprawling grand mass of stone, set amid the most beautiful park they'd ever seen. They were in the Speath Suite, a vast square room with tall windows that gave onto the beautifully mowed sloping lawns, formal gardens, and a lake. There were two queen beds. They'd ordered a rollaway cot for Emma, but when it arrived with the smiling bellman Tommy, and Ramsey had turned to ask Emma where she wanted the bed, the lost panicked look on her face had made him quickly turn back to Tommy and order the cot taken away. Emma slept with her mother. She'd had no more nightmares since they'd arrived.