Brain Child Page 0,97

whispered. “Why should he want to do such a thing?”

“He said people are beginning to think he’s crazy,” Marsh replied. “And he doesn’t want that to happen. He said he doesn’t want to be locked up until he knows what’s wrong with him.”

“Locked up?” The room seemed to be spinning, and for a moment Ellen thought she might faint. “Who would lock him up?”

“But isn’t that what happens to crazy people?” Marsh asked. “You have to look at it from his point of view. He knows we love him, and he knows we care for him, but he doesn’t know what that means. All he knows is what he’s read, and he’s read about mental institutions.” His voice suddenly broke. “Hell,” he muttered. “He reads damned near everything, and remembers it all. But he just doesn’t know what anything means.”

María Torres shifted the heavy weight of her shopping bag from her right hand to her left, then sighed and lowered it to the sidewalk for a moment.

Ramón had promised to come that evening and take her shopping, but then he’d telephoned and said he wasn’t coming. Something had come up with his patient, and he had to stay in his office. His patient, she thought bitterly. His patient was Alejandro, and there was nothing wrong with the boy. But Ramón couldn’t see that, not for all his schooling. Ramón had forgotten. Forgotten so much. But someday he would understand. Someday soon, Ramón would know that all the hatreds she had carefully nursed in him were still there. But for now, he still pretended to be a gringo.

And tonight, the shopping still had to be done, even though she was tired after working all day, so she’d walked the five blocks to the store, which wasn’t too bad. It was the five blocks home, with the full shopping bag, that was the hard part. Her arms aching with arthritis, she picked up the bag and was about to continue on her way when a car pulled up to the curb next to her. She glanced at it with little interest, then looked again as she recognized the driver.

It was the boy.

And he was returning her gaze, his eyes studying her. He knew who she was, and the saints—her saints—had sent him. It was an omen: though Ramón had not come to her tonight, Alejandro had. She stepped forward, and bent down to put her head through the open window of the car.

“Vámos,” she whispered, her rheumy eyes glowing. “Vámos a matar.”

The words echoed in Alex’s ears, and he understood them. We go to kill. Deep in his mind, a memory stirred and the mists began gathering around him once again. He reached across the front seat and pushed the door open. María Torres settled herself into the seat beside him, and pulled the door closed. As the old woman whispered to him, he put the car in gear and started slowly up into the hills above the town.

Fifteen minutes later, he parked the car, still listening to the words María was whispering in his ears. And then he was alone, and María Torres was walking slowly away from the car, her bag of groceries clutched close to her breast.

Only when she had finally disappeared around a bend in the road did Alex, too, leave the car, and step through the gate into Valerie Benson’s patio.

In the dark recesses of his throbbing brain, the familiar voices took up María’s ancient litany …

Venganza … venganza …

Vaguely he became aware of another sound, and turned to see a woman standing framed in the light of an open doorway.

“Alex?” Valerie Benson asked. “Alex, are you all right?”

She’d heard the gate open, and waited for the doorbell to ring. When it hadn’t, she’d gone to the door and pressed her eye to the peephole. There, standing in the patio, she’d seen Alex Lonsdale, and opened the door. But when she’d spoken, he hadn’t replied, so she’d stepped outside and called to him.

Now he was looking at her, but she still wasn’t sure he’d heard her words.

“Alex, what is it? Has something happened?”

“Ladrones,” Alex whispered. “Asesinos …”

Valerie frowned, and stepped back, uneasy. What was he talking about? Thieves? Murderers? It sounded like the ravings of a paranoiac.

“K-Kate’s not here,” she stammered, backing toward the front door. “If you’re looking for her, she’s gone out.”

She was inside and the door was halfway closed when Alex hurled himself forward, his weight slamming into the door, sending Valerie sprawling to