Part 3 (1/2)
”What's your favorite game of pretend?”
”I pretend I'm a horse, running through the tall gra.s.s.”
”Would you play a game of pretend with me right now?”
”I guess.”
”Okay, so let's go back to that chair beside the window-the one you were standing on a little while ago.”
Once again Sister Mary Katherine squirmed in her seat. ”Please,” she said. ”Don't make me go back there.”
”You won't,” Fred a.s.sured her. ”We'll pretend there's a camera instead of you standing on that chair. A movie camera. If the camera tells us what you see outside the window, the camera might get in trouble, but you won't. Do you think that would work?”
”I'm not sure.”
”Let's try it. If it gets too scary, we'll stop, okay?”
”Okay.”
”Tell me about the chair. You said you were standing on it. How does that work?”
”I pushed it up to the front of the sink.”
”The kitchen sink?”
”Yes. And then I climbed up on it.”
”The chair or the sink?”
”The chair. I had to lean across the sink to see out. I had to hold on to the windowsill to keep from falling.”
”All right. Now we're going to put a camera up there in exactly the same spot where you were. You won't even have to be there. Okay?”
”Okay.” Sister Mary Katherine's voice was little more than a whisper.
”Now you tell me. Is the camera in the same spot you were?”
”Yes.”
”What does the camera see?”
”A car.”
”Where?”
”Coming up the driveway.”
”Your driveway?”
”No. Hers.”
Need her to describe the car, I write. Make, model, year.
”What does the camera see next?”
”The car stops and a man gets out.”
”A pa.s.senger or the driver?”
”Driver.”
”Do you know this man? Is he someone you've seen before?”
Sister Mary Katherine shrugged. ”Maybe,” she said.
”What does he do?”
”He walks away from the car. He goes up to Mimi's back porch and knocks on the door.”
Mimi! I jot down. The name from the inscription in the book.
”What happens then?”
”She comes to the door. The camera can't hear what the man's saying, but it can see that he's angry. He's yelling at her.”
”And then?”
At that point, Sister Mary Katherine dissolved into frantic tears. ”I can't,” she said. ”I don't want to see anymore. Don't make me watch. Please.”
Dismayed and relieved, I listened as Fred MacKinzie walked Sister Mary Katherine away from the edge of Bonnie Jean Dunleavy's cliff of remembrance. He had been so close. I was frustrated that he hadn't gone ahead, but the exhaustion and strain on Mary Katherine's face when she emerged from the trance told me Fred had done the right thing. He'd managed to come up with a few nuggets of information. In situations like this, something is better than nothing.
”How are you feeling?” he asked Sister Mary Katherine.
”Okay,” she said. ”But tired, very tired. Did you learn anything?”
”Maybe,” he said. ”Do you remember someone named Mimi?”
”Not right off the bat. You think my nightmare may have something to do with a person named Mimi?”
Fred nodded.
”Did I mention her last name?”
”No.”
Suddenly Mary Katherine's face brightened. ”Wait a minute. Now I do remember. There was a Mimi in my life. She gave me a book once-as a Christmas gift when I was just a little girl. I still have it.”
”Where is it?”
”On Whidbey. Why?”