He snorted. "I didn't kill anyone. Look at me. I'm a goddamn cripple. I don't pose a threat to an ant these days."
"Yet you know who is behind these murders, don't you?"
"What if I do, girlie? What are you going to do? Beat the information out of me?" He grinned maliciously, revealing yellow-stained teeth. "Might like that, you know. Don't get touched by many females nowadays."
"She might not beat the information out of you," Doyle said, his voice flat and yet somehow ferocious. He moved out of the shadows and stopped beside her.
"But I'd love to take a crack at you, let me assure you." Doyle twined his fingers around hers. The warmth of his touch flushed through her, and while it didn't completely erase the chill, it somehow made her feel infinitely safer.
The old man's face went pale. "Who are you?" he whispered hoarsely. "What right have you to threaten me like that?"
"What right did you have to molest eleven-year-olds? I should wring your scrawny neck just for that."
She touched his arm with her free hand, trying to calm him. It felt like she was touching a tightly coiled spring. It wouldn't take too much to provoke an attack, of that she was sure. Just as she was sure he luouidtear this man apart if he provided the slightest excuse— because of what he'd done to the others. Because of the hurt he'd inflicted on her.
No one had ever cared for her that much. No one.
Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back, then said, 'Tell me what you know, or you can tell the damn police."
The old man's glance darted between the two of them. "I don't know much," he muttered.
'Tell us what you do know," Doyle said. His voice was little more than a scratch of sound—almost, but not quite, the growl of a big cat. She studied him for a minute, wondering if perhaps he was going to become the panther right here in this room. She wasn't sure if she was ready to see that— wasn't sure if she'd ever be ready to see that.
He glanced at her, blue eyes narrowed. Give me credit for a little control. I am not a beast who takes the shape of a man, you know.
Sorry. It'sjwst your voice...
I only mean to scare him—for now, at least.
"Got a visit last week," the old man said into the silence. "Said she used to stay here in this cabin. She wasn't one of my—" He hesitated, his gaze flicking from her to Doyle. "She said she wanted revenge on the witches, just like me."
"What are you talking about? We never—" She bit back the rest of her words. If she couldn't remember attacking the caretaker, how could she say they'd never attacked anyone else?
"Do you know this woman's name?"
He hesitated. "Felicity Barnes."
"And you recognized her?" she asked, surprised. After all, they'd all been barely eleven when they were here with this man. Surely they'd changed in the years since.
"No. But I checked the files afterwards, and she was here." He sniffed. "She offered me money." His sly look inferred they should be doing the same. Doyle's fingers twitched against hers. He might be controlling his beast, but she had a feeling it was a close-run race right now.
"I'm offering you life," he ground out. "Give me a description of this woman."
The old man's hand twitched, and the wheelchair jerked backward slightly.
"Petite little thing, she was. Brown hair, gray eyes, boyish figure. Nothing remarkable."
Heat flashed in his eyes. Felicity Barnes's boyish figure had excited him, Kirby realized, feeling sick again. God, if they had indeed been responsible for putting him in the wheelchair all those years ago, why hadn't they just finished him? Why had did they let this monster live?
Doyle's thoughts touched hers again, offering comfort, offering warmth. She took a deep breath, and tried to keep calm. "What did she want you to do?"
"Nothing. She just wanted to look at the files, that's all."
"Our files are still here?" she asked, surprised. Surely they should be tucked away somewhere safer.
The caretaker snorted. 'This was a government run facility." And it had been a safe environment. Until he'd come. Until Mariel had come. She blinked. Who in the hell was Mariel?
"Do you know which files she wanted?" Doyle asked.