Suddenly Rob was there, holding her arm, pulling the knife from her hand.
"It's over, Kara," he said. "Christ, it's over. You can't kill him any more."
Her leg gave way and she fell against him. Rob lifted her and carried her from Gabor's room up to the first floor where he stretched her out on the settee in the foyer. She saw Jill staring at her from the kitchen doorway, her fingers jammed into her mouth.
"It's all right now, honey," Kara said, reaching out her good hand to her. "I'm okay, now. The man in the cellar won't make me do bad things any more. He's gone for good."
Rob went over to Jill and she clung to him, using him as a shield between herself and her mother. That hurt Kara, but what else could she expect? It was going to take a long time to heal the trauma of this morning.
"It's okay, Jill," Rob said, drawing her toward Kara. "Your mother's okay now. It was like you said, like Freaky Friday, but the bad man who was in your mother is gone, and he can't come back. Give her a hug. She's a very brave lady, and she needs you now."
With a small cry, Jill rushed forward into her mother's arms. Kara crushed her against herself and began to sob. They stayed locked together while Rob got a hand towel from the bathroom and tied it around her thigh. Then he headed toward the basement stairs.
"Where're you going?"
"Some unfinished business."
He closed the door to the basement behind him. A few moments later she heard a series of muffled retorts from below. Like gun shots. Rob reappeared a short while later.
"What …?"
"Five to the head," he said grimly. "Insurance."
Kara, closed her eyes. 'Thank you."
February 28
6:48 P.M.
"What did you do with his body?"
Kara had been afraid to ask, but she had to know.
Rob looked at her from the other end of the couch in the front room of his apartment.
"Food for the fishes. Even if he's found—and he won't be—he can't be identified. Gabor Gati is officially dead. The crib and its mattress were left in a vacant lot in the South Bronx. And the bloody sheet went up in flames in the fireplace. It's done. Over. Finis. We can now go about getting our lives back on track."
"Amen," Kara said.
She leaned back on the cushions. The sutures in her left palm and right thigh were starting to pull. The wounds had been easily explained as glass cuts, and luckily she hadn't severed any tendons in her hand. The wounds to her body would be healed in a week or so. But the rest of her… she didn't know if she'd ever get over the past three weeks.
And Jill. She was worried most about poor Jill. But the child appeared to be bouncing back better than either Kara or Rob. She was having a ball playing nurse to her mother. She came out of the kitchenette now holding a glass of cola.
"Here you go, Mom."
"Thank you, Nurse Jill."
Kara would have preferred something stronger, but with the Percodan running through her system for the pain, she decided to stick to soft drinks.
"I'll think I'll make myself a refill," Rob said, jiggling the ice in his scotch glass.
"And I'll pick up this mess," Jill said. She straightened the newspapers, the magazine, picked up Rob's key ring—
—and twirled it on her index finger. Twirl-twirl-stop. Twirl-twirl-stop.
Kara's stomach plummeted. She leaped up from the couch and grabbed her arm.
"Jill! Jill, look at me!"
The big blue eyes turned toward her, wide and innocent. Kara could barely hear her over the pounding of her heart in her throat.
"Mommy, you're hurting my arm!"
Kara loosened her grip but did not let go.
"Why did you do that?"
"Do what, Mom?"
"Twirl those keys on your finger? Tell me!"
"I… I saw you do it! Mom, why are you mad at me?"
Kara released her arm and hugged her.
"I'm not mad, bug. I'm just frightened."
Oh, God, was she ever going to be free of this?
Yes! she thought. Yes, she would get free of Gabor's lingering taint on her life. She would put this all behind her and start out anew with Jill. And with Rob. And eventually, she would be able to look at the world without seeing Gabor's shadow everywhere. Eventually, this would all become a dim memory, a barely remembered nightmare.
But for now, for a while—she hated herself for even thinking it, but she had no choice—she was going to have to keep a close watch on Jill.
F. Paul Wilson, Sibs
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