dk.intensity-第35章

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　The　killer　entered　from　the　laundry　room；　evidently　returning　from　the　girl　in　the　cellar。
　Without　speaking　to　Chyna；　without　glancing　at　her；　as　if　she　didn't　exist；　he　went　to　the　refrigerator；　removed　a　carton　of　eggs；　and　put　it　on　the　counter　beside　the　sink。　He　deftly　broke　eight　eggs　into　a　bowl　and　threw　the　shells　in　the　trash。　He　set　the　bowl　in　the　refrigerator　and　proceeded　to　peel　and　chop　a　Bermuda　onion。
　Chyna　hadn't　eaten　in　more　than　twelve　hours；　nonetheless；　she　was　dismayed　to　discover　that　she　was　suddenly　ravenous。　The　onion　was　the　sweetest　scent　that　she　had　ever　known；　and　her　mouth　began　to　water。　After　so　much　blood；　after　losing　the　only　close　friend　she'd　ever　had；　it　seemed　heartless　to　have　an　appetite　so　soon。
　The　killer　put　the　chopped　onion　into　a　Tupperware　container；　snapped　the　lid　tight；　and　placed　it　in　the　refrigerator　beside　the　bowl　of　eggs。　Next　he　grated　half　a　wedge　of　cheddar　cheese　into　another　Tupperware　container。
　He　was　brisk　and　efficient　in　the　kitchen；　and　he　seemed　to　be　enjoying　himself。　He　kept　his　work　area　neat。　He　also　washed　his　hands　thoroughly　between　each　task　and　dried　them　on　a　hand　towel；　not　on　the　dish　towel。
　Finally　the　killer　came　to　the　dinette　table。　He　sat　across　from　Chyna；　relaxed　and　self…confident　and　college…boy　casual　in　his　Dockers；　braided　belt；　and　soft　chambray　shirt。
　Shame；　which　had　seemed　on　the　verge　of　consuming　her；　instead　had　burned　itself　out　for　the　time　being。　A　strange　bination　of　smoldering　anger　and　bitter　despondency　had　replaced　it。　〃Now；〃　he　said；　〃I'm　sure　you're　hungry；　and　as　soon　as　we　have　a　little　chat；　I'll　make　cheese　omelets　with　stacks　of　toast。　But　to　earn　your　breakfast；　you　have　to　tell　me　who　you　are；　where　you　were　hiding　at　that　service　station；　and　why　you're　here。〃
　She　glared　at　him。　With　a　smile；　he　said；　〃Don't　think　you　can　hold　out　on　me。〃　She　would　be　damned　rather　than　tell　him　anything。　〃Here's　how　it　is；〃　he　said。　〃I'll　kill　you　anyway。　I'm　not　sure　how　yet。　Probably　in　front　of　Ariel。　She's　seen　bodies　before；　but　she's　never　been　there　at　the　moment　itself；　to　hear　that　last　scream；　in　the　sudden　wetness　of　it　all。〃
　Chyna　tried　to　keep　her　eyes　on　him；　show　no　weakness。
　He　said；　〃However　I　choose　to　do　you；　I'll　make　it　a　lot　harder　for　you　if　you　don't　talk　to　me　willingly。　There　are　things　I　enjoy　that　can　be　done　before　or　after　you're　dead。　Cooperate；　and　I'll　do　them　after。〃
　Chyna　tried　unsuccessfully　to　see　some　sign　of　madness　in　his　eyes。　Such　a　merry　shade　of　blue。　〃Well？〃
　〃You're　a　sick　son…of…a…bitch。〃
　Smiling　again；　he　said；　〃The　last　thing　I　expected　you　to　be　was　tedious。〃
　〃I　know　why　you　sewed　shut　his　eyes　and　mouth；〃　she　said。
　〃Ah；　so　you　found　him　in　the　closet。〃
　〃You　raped　him　before　you　killed　him　or　while　you　killed　him。　You　sewed　his　eyes　shut　because　he'd　seen；　sewed　his　mouth　shut　because　you're　ashamed　of　what　you　did　and　you're　afraid　that；　even　dead；　he　might　tell　someone。〃
　Unfazed；　he　said；　〃Actually；　I　didn't　have　sex　with　him。〃
　〃Liar。〃
　〃But　if　I　had；　I　wouldn't　have　been　embarrassed。　You　think　I'm　that　unsophisticated？　We're　all　bisexual；　don't　you　think？　I　have　the　urge　for　a　man；　sometimes；　and　with　some　of　them　I've　indulged　it。　It's　all　sensation。　just　sensation。〃
　〃Maggot。〃
　〃I　know　what　you're　trying　to　do；〃　he　said　amiably；　clearly　amused　by　her；　〃but　it　just　won't　work。　You're　hoping　one　insult　or　another　will　set　me　off。　As　if　I'm　some　hair…trigger　psychopath　who'll　just　explode　if　you　call　me　the　right　name；　push　the　right　button；　maybe　insult　my　mother　or　say　nasty　things　about　the　Lord。　Then　you　hope　I'll　kill　you　fast；　in　a　wild　rage；　and　get　it　over　with。〃
　Chyna　realized　that　he　was　right；　although　she　had　not　been　consciously　aware　of　her　own　intentions。　Failure；　shame；　and　the　helplessness　of　being　shackled　had　reduced　her　to　a　despair　that　she　had　preferred　not　to　consider。　Now　she　was　sickened　less　by　him　than　by　herself；　wondering　if　she　was　a　quitter　and　a　loser；　after　all；　just　like　her　mother。
　〃But　I'm　not　a　psychopath；〃　he　said。
　〃Then　what　are　you？〃
　〃Oh　。。。　call　me　a　homicidal　adventurer。　Or　perhaps　the　only　clearthinking　person　you've　ever　met。〃
　〃　'Maggot'　works　better　for　me。〃
　He　leaned　forward　in　his　chair。　〃Here's　the　thing…either　you　tell　me　all　about　yourself；　everything　I　want　to　know；　or　I'll　work　on　your　face　with　a　knife　while　you　sit　there。　For　every　question　you　refuse　to　answer；　I'll　take　off　a　piece…the　lobe　of　an　ear；　the　tip　of　your　pretty　nose。　Carve　you　like　scrimshaw。〃
　He　said　this　not　threateningly　but　matter…of…factly；　and　she　knew　that　he　had　the　stomach　for　it。
　〃I'll　take　all　day；〃　he　said；　〃and　you'll　be　insane　long　before　you're　dead。〃
　〃All　right。〃
　〃All　right　what？　conversation　or　scrimshaw？〃
　〃Conversation。〃
　〃Good　girl。〃
　She　was　prepared　to　die　if　it　came　to　that；　but　she　saw　no　point　in　suffering　needlessly。
　〃What's　your　name？〃　he　asked。
　〃Shepherd。　Chyna　Shepherd。　C…h…y…n…a。〃
　〃Ah；　not　a　cryptic　chant；　after　all。〃
　〃What？〃
　〃Odd　name。〃
　〃Is　it？〃
　〃Don't　spar　with　me；　Chyna。　Go　on。〃
　〃All　right。　But　first；　may　I　have　something　to　drink？　I'm　dehydrated。〃
　At　the　sink；　he　drew　a　glass　of　water。　He　put　three　ice　cubes　in　it。　He　started　to　bring　it　to　her；　then　halted　and　said；　〃I　could　add　a　slice　of　lemon。〃
　She　knew　he　wasn't　joking。　Home　from　the　hunt；　he　was　working　now　to　recast　himself　from　the　role　of　savage　stalker　into　that　of　accountant　or　clerk　or　real　estate　agent　or　car　mechanic　or　whatever　it　was　that　he　did　when　he　was　passing　for　normal。　Some　sociopaths　could　put　on　a　false　persona　that　was　more　convincing　than　the　best　performances　of　the　finest　actors　who　had　ever　lived；　and　this　man　was　probably　one　of　those；　although　after　immersion　in　wanton　slaughter；　he　needed　this　period　of　adjustment　to　remind　himself　of　the　manners　and　courtesies　of　civilized　society。
　〃No；　thanks；〃　she　said　to　the　offer　of　lemon。
　〃It's　no　trouble；〃　he　graciously　assured　her。
　〃Just　the　water。〃
　When　he　put　the　glass　down；　he　slipped　a　cork…lined　ceramic　coaster　under　it。　Then　he　sat　across　the　table　from　her　again。
　Chyna　was　repelled　by　the　prospect　of　drinking　from　a　glass　that　he　had　handled；　but　she　really　was　dehydrated。　Her　mouth　was　dry；　and　her　throat　was　vaguely　sore。
　Because　of　the　cuffs；　she　picked　up　the　glass　in　both　hands。　She　knew　that　he　was　watching　her　for　signs　of　fear。　The　water　didn't　slop　around　in　the　tumbler。　The　rim　of　the　glass　didn't　chatter　against　her　teeth。
　She　truly　wasn't　afraid　of　him　any　more；　at　least　not　for　the　moment；　although　maybe　later。　Certainly　later。　Now　her　interior　landscape　was　a　desert　under　sullen　skies：　numbing　desolation；　with　the　angry　flicker　of　lightning　toward　a　far　horizon。
　She　drank　half　of　the　water　before　she　put　the　glass　down。
　〃When　I　entered　the　room　a　moment　ago；〃　the　killer　said；　〃you　were　sitting　with　your　hands　folded；　your　head　bowed　against　your　hands。　Were　you　praying？〃
　She　thought　about　it。　〃No。〃
　〃There's　no　point　in　lying　to　me。〃
　〃I'm　not　lying。　I　wasn't　praying　just　then。〃
　〃But　you　do　pray？〃
　〃Sometimes。〃
　〃God　fears　me。〃
　She　waited。
　He　said；　〃God　fears　me…those　are　words　that　can　be　made　from　the　letters　of　my　name。〃
　〃I　see。　〃
　〃Dragon　seed。〃
　〃From　the　letters　of　your　name；〃　she　said。
　〃Yes。　And　。。。　forge　of　rage。〃
　〃It's　an　interesting　game。〃
　〃Names　are　interesting。　Yours　is　passive。　A　place　name　for　a　first　name。　And　Shepherd…bucolic；　fuzzily　Christian。　When　I　think　of　your　name；　I　see　an　Asian　peasant　on　a　hillside　with　sheep　。。。　or　a　slant…eyed　Christ　making　converts　among　the　heathens。〃　He　smiled；　amused　by　his　banter。　〃But　clearly；　your　name　doesn't　define　you　well。　You're　not　a　passive　person。〃
　〃I　have　been；〃　she　said；　〃most　of　my　life。〃
　〃Really？　Well；　you　weren't　passive　last　night。〃
　〃Not　last　night；〃　she　agreed。　〃But　until　then。〃
　〃My　name；　on　the　other　hand；　is　a　power　name。　Edgler　Foreman　Vess。〃　He　spelled　it　for　her。　〃Not　Edgar。　Edge…ler。　Like　'on　the　edge。'　And　Vess　。。。　if　you　draw　it　out；　it's　like　a　serpent　hissing。〃
　〃Demon。〃
　〃Yes；　that's　right。　It's　there　in　my　name…demon。　〃Anger。〃
　He　seemed　pleased　by　her　willingness　to　play。　〃You're　good　at　this；　especially　considering　that　you　don't　have　pen　and　paper。〃
　〃Vessel；〃　she　said。　〃That's　in　your　name　too。〃
　〃An　easy　one。　But　also　semen。　Vessel　and　semen；　female　and　male。　Would　you　like　to　craft　an　insult　out　of　that；　Chyna？〃
　Instead　of　replying；　she　picked　up　the　glass　and　drank　half　of　the　remaining　water。　The　ice　cubes　were　cold　against　her　teeth。　
　〃Now　that　you've　wet　your　whistle；〃　Vess　said；　〃I　want　to　know　all　about　you。　Remember…scrimshaw。〃
　Chyna　told　him　everything；　beginning　with　the　moment　that　she　had　heard　a　scream　while　sitting　at　the　guest…bedroom　window　in　the　Templeton　house。　She　delivered　her　account　in　a　monotone；　not　by　calculation　but　because　suddenly　she　could　speak　no　other　way。　She　tried　to　vary　her　inflection；　put　life　into　her　words…but　failed。
　The　sound　of　her　voice；　droning　through　the　events　of　the　night；　scared　her　as　Edgler　Vess　no　longer　did。　Her　account　came　to　her　as　if　she　were　listening　to　someone　else　speak；　and　it　was　the　voice　of　a　lost　and　defeated　person。
　She　told　herself　that　she　was　not　defeated；　that　she　still　had　hope；　that　she　would　get　the　best　of　this　murderous　bastard　one　way　or　another。　But　her　inner　voice　lacked　all　conviction。
　In　spite　of　Chyna's　spiritless　recitation　of　events；　Vess　was　a　rapt　listener。　He　began　in　a　relaxed　slouch；　lounging　back　in　his　chair；　but　by　the　time　Chyna　finished；　he　was　leaning　forward　with　his　arms　on　the　table；　hunched　toward　her。
　He　interrupted　her　several　times　to　ask　questions。　At　the　end；　he　sat　for　a　while　in　contemplative　silence。
　She　could　not　bear　to　look　at　him。　She　folded　her　hands　on　the　table；　closed　her　eyes；　and　put　her　forehead　against　the　backs　of　her　church…door　thumbs；　as　she　had　been　when　Vess　had　e　out　of　the　laundry　room。
　She　wasn't　praying　this　time　either。　She　lacked　the　hope　needed　for　prayer。
　After　a　few　minutes；　she　heard　Vess's　chair　slide　back　from　the　table。　He　got　up。　She　heard　him　moving　around；　and　then　the　familiar　clatter　of　any　cook　being　busy　in　any　kitchen。
　She　smelled　butter　heating　in　a　pan；　then　browning　onions。　In　the　telling　of　her　story；　Chyna　had　lost　her　appetite；　and　it　didn't　return　with　the　aroma　of　the　onions。
　Finally　Vess　said；　〃Funny　that　I　didn't　smell　you　right　away　at　the　Templetons'。〃
　〃You　can　do　that？〃　she　asked；　without　raising　her　head　from　her　hands。　〃You　can　just　smell　people　out；　as　if　you　were　a　damn　dog？〃
　〃Usually；〃　he　said；　taking　no　offense；　and　with　what　seemed　to　be　utmost　seriousness。　〃And　you　must　have　made　a　sound　more　than　once　through　the　night。　You　surely　can't　be　that　stealthy。　Even　your　breathing　I　should　have　heard。〃
　Then　came　the　sound　of　a　wire　whisk　vigorously　beating　eggs　in　a　bowl。
　She　smelled　bread　toasting。
　〃In　a　still　house；　with　everyone　dead；　your　movement　should　have　made　currents　in　the　air；　like　a　cool　breath　on　the　back　of　my　neck；　shivering　the　fine　hairs　on　my　hands。　Your　every　movement　should　hav