Catherine Coulter - The Cove

There was no answer.

She called out, her voice only a miserable whisper, "Thomas? Corey?"

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She knocked again. Still no answer. She turned the knob. To her surprise, the door opened. It opened quickly, and she stumbled into the room, her knees buckling under her. She fell on her side.

She called out, "Thomas? Corey?"

She managed to get onto her hands and knees. There was only a single lamp burning, on top of the bedside table. Thomas Shredder was lying on his back, his arms and legs sprawled out away from his body. He was unconscious. Or he was dead. She tried to scream. She wanted to scream, but only a small cry came out of her mouth.

She heard footsteps behind her. She managed to get herself turned around to face the open doorway.

James? Was he all right now? But she didn't call out his name.

She was afraid it wasn't him. James had drunk a whole cup of that coffee. It couldn't be him. She was afraid of who it might be.

The light was dim. Shadows filled the room, filled her vision. There was a man standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets.

"Hello, Sally."

29

"No," SHE SAID, staring at that shadowy figure, knowing it was him, accepting it, but still she said again,

"No, it can't be you."

"Of course it can, dear. You'd know your father anywhere, wouldn't you?"

"No." She was shaking her head back and forth.

"Why can't you get up, Sally?"

"You drugged us. I just drank a little bit, but it must have been very strong."

"Didn't get enough, did you?" He was coming toward her now, quickly, too quickly.

"Doctor Beadermeyer got to try so many new drugs on you. Actually, I was surprised you survived with your brain intact. Well, I'll take care of that."

He leaned down, grabbed the hair at the back of her neck, and yanked her head back. "Here, Sally." He poured liquid down her throat. Then he threw her away from him, and she fell hard onto her back.

She stared up at him, seeing him weave and fade in the dim light. She tried to focus on him, watching him closely, but his features blurred, his mouth moved and grew bigger. His neck stretched out, becoming longer and longer until she could no longer see his head. Surely this was the way Alice in Wonderland must have felt. Off with her head. "Oh, no," she whispered. "Oh, no." She fell onto her side, the smooth oak boards of the floor cool against her cheek.

Her father was here. That was her first thought when she woke up.

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Her father.

No doubt about it. Her father. He was here. He had drugged her. He would kill her now. She was helpless again, just as helpless as she'd been for days upon weeks, weeks upon months.

She couldn't move, couldn't even lift a single finger. She realized her hands were tied in front of her, not all that tightly, but tight enough. She shifted her weight a bit. Her ankles were tied, too. But her mind wasn't fettered. Her mind was clear-thank God for that. If she'd been vague and blurry again, she would simply have folded up on herself and willed herself to die. But no, she could think. She could remember.

She could also open her eyes. Did she want to?

James, she thought, and forced her eyes open.

She was lying on a bed. The springs squeaked when she shifted from one side to the other. She tried to make out more detail but couldn't. There was only a dim light coming from a hallway. It looked to be a small bedroom, but she couldn't tell anything more about it.

Where was she? Was she still in The Cove? If so, where?

Where was her father? What would he do?

She saw a shadowy figure walk into the bedroom. The light was too dim for her to make out his face.

But she knew. Oh, yes, she knew it was him.

"You," she said, surprised that the word had come from her mouth. It sounded rusty and infinitely sad.

"Hello, Sally."

"It is you. I was praying I'd been wrong. Where am I?"

"It's a bit soon to tell you that."

"Are we still in The Cove? Where's James? And the other two agents?"

"It's a bit soon to tell you that as well."

"Damn you, I was praying desperately you'd left the country, that, or you were dead. No, actually I was praying that they would catch you and put you in prison for the rest of your miserable life. Where am I?"

"How poor Noelle suffered for years from that tongue of yours. You were always sniping at her, always moralizing, always telling her what she should do. You wanted her to call the police. You wanted her to leave me. The fact is, she didn't want to, Sally. Maybe at first she did, but not later. But you just wouldn't stop. You depressed her with all that criticism of yours, with your contempt. That's why she never came to see you in the sanitarium. She was afraid you'd preach at her some more, even though you were fucking crazy."

"That's bullshit. Naturally you can say anything you want about anybody now. Noelle isn't here to tell you what she really thinks of you. I'll bet you she'll be the happiest woman in Washington once she truly realizes that she doesn't have to be your punching bag anymore. I'll bet you she's already wearing short-sleeved dresses and shirts again. No more fear of showing bruises. I'll bet she'll even try two-piece bathing suits this summer. How many years couldn't she wear them? You loved to punch her in the ribs, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

didn't you? You brutalized her. If there's any justice at all, you'll pay. Too bad you didn't die."

"That's more out of you than I've heard in more than six months. You were blessedly silent most of the time during your too brief stay at the sanitarium. Too bad that Doctor Beadermeyer is out of business, thanks to that bastard Quinlan.

"Everything got so complicated, and it was all your fault, Sally. We had a lid on everything until Quinlan got you away from Doctor Beadermeyer again."

"His name's Norman Lipsy. He's a plastic surgeon.

He's a criminal. He gave that poor man your face, but you're the one who killed him. You're a filthy murderer, not just a wife beater. And a traitor to your country."

"Why do you denounce me only for my more pedestrian deeds? I did one really good thing, something I'm quite proud of that you haven't mentioned.

"I put my darling daughter away for six months. I do believe that was my favorite project in the last few years. "Putting you away. Having you under my control. Never having to see the contempt and hatred on your face when you happened to see me. God, how I enjoyed seeing you like a rag doll, your mouth gaping open, looking so stupid and vague that it wasn't even much fun watching that pathetic Holland take off your clothes and bathe you and then dress you again like you were his dolly.

"Toward the end there, I didn't even enjoy slapping you to get your attention. You didn't have any to get, and you got too thin. I told Doctor Beadermeyer to feed you more, but he said all he could do was keep you stabilized. Then you escaped by hiding the pills beneath your tongue. "To see you in my house, in my study, just after I'd shot Jackie. It was a shock."

He struck a pose she'd seen many times in her life. He propped his elbow up on his other arm and cupped his chin in his hand. It was his intellectual, thoughtful look, she supposed. All he needed was Scott's pipe and perhaps Sherlock Holmes's hat.

"There you were, leaning over poor Jackie-that greedy little bugger-then you turned and saw me, saw me as clear as day. I could see the recognition in your eyes. You picked up my gun. I'd put it down to get some papers from my desk. But then you picked it up, and I had no choice but to run. I hid outside and watched you shake your head, clearly disbelieving you'd seen me. I saw Noelle and Scott come running in. I heard her screarn and scream. I saw Scott nearly chew through that damned pipe of his.