Part 36 (2/2)
She felt off balance. What had she been thinking, anyway? That she'd just knock on the Kentons' door and ask if they had any little blond girls wandering around their house today? She hadn't thought this through. She'd been operating on impulse and that wasn't like her.
”It's that little girl you saw, isn't it?”
She stared at him. ”How on earth did you know?”
”You've mentioned her a number of times since yesterday. She seems to be stuck in your head.”
”She is. I don't know why, but I can't stop thinking about her. Maybe if she hadn't disappeared and we'd spoken to her, it would be different. But now, the way it is... she's a mystery.”
”Not one we're likely to solve. And maybe not something you should be worrying about and traveling to Astoria for. I mean, you being pregnant and all.”
”Jack, it's just half a dozen stops from home.”
”Yeah, but subways are full of people, some of them sick. I don't want you catching anything.”
”You never seemed to worry about that before I was pregnant.”
”I did, but now I'm twice as worried, if you know what I mean.”
She was touched by his concern for her and the baby, but he was going a bit overboard.
She sighed. ”I just wanted to have another look, I guess.”
”Well, since I'm on my way to see Lyle and Charlie myself-” he offered her his arm with exaggerated courtliness-”I shall be delighted to escort you there.”
Gia batted her eyes and got into the game. ”That's very kind of you, sir, but I sorely fear for my reputation if I'm seen walking with a man with that sort of haircut. I might never again be able to hold up my head in polite society.”
”A new haircut? Say the word, madam, and it is done.”
With a flourish Jack pulled off that hideous wig and shoved it into the pocket of his equally hideous sport coat. She combed her fingers through his tousled hair to straighten it.
”By the way, who picked out your clothes today?”
”Stevie Wonder.”
”I suspected.” She took his arm and they continued toward the stairway. ”You seem to be in a good mood.”
”So far it's been a pretty good day.”
As they walked he told her about how he'd reversed a scam on an Upper East Side psychic. This was the liveliest she'd seen him in months. The old Jack was back, and Gia was glad.
At Menelaus Manor they found a pair of workmen just leaving; apparently they'd been replacing the broken windows.
Charlie welcomed them in. He didn't ask why Gia had come along, and Jack didn't offer an explanation. Anyway, Charlie seemed too taken with Jack's outfit to care.
”Ain't you ragged out!” he said, pointing to the plaid jacket and grinning. ”Oh, you some ragged-out mack today!”
When he finally stopped laughing he said Lyle would meet Jack upstairs instead of in the Channeling Room, which was under repair.
Jack turned to Gia. ”Do you mind waiting here while I go upstairs? Got to talk some business. Only take me a minute.”
”Talk away,” she said. ”I'll just hang here and... look around.”
Jack winked at her and followed Charlie into the hall and up the stairs. When they were gone, Gia casually wandered down the hall and into the kitchen. She poked her head into an adjoining room that held a dismantled TV. The screen was lit, though, showing a Dukakis-for-President ad. Probably the History Channel or a doc.u.mentary. She went to the rear door and looked out into the backyard: a plot of dry, scrubby gra.s.s bordered by a privet hedge. No little girl.
Disappointed, Gia wandered back to the waiting room.
Well, what did she expect, anyway? Still she felt better for coming. She'd made the pilgrimage, now maybe she could stop thinking about that child.
Gia idly picked up one of the Menelaus manor pamphlets to read up on the house again, and a little booklet fell out. The cover read, WHO, ME WHO, ME? with ”By J. T. C.” in the corner. She flipped it over and saw a drawing of a church and the words, ”Fisherman's Club” and ”A Ministry for Laymen.” Published by Chick Publications.
Gia flipped through it and realized immediately that it was a born-again tract exhorting its Christian readers to start ”personal ministries” and become ”soul winners” by bringing nonbelievers to Jesus.
What was it about fundamentalist sects, she wondered, that made them feel they had to get others to believe what they believed? The drive to convert other people to their way of thinking... where did it come from?
A more immediate question: Who was leaving these things here? And what did he or she hope to accomplish? People seeking out spirit mediums like Ifasen had most likely tried out the major religions and rejected them.
She searched through the Menelaus brochures and found another Chick pamphlet called ”This Was Your Life!” As she opened it she heard a child's voice begin to sing.
”I think we're alone now...”
Gia turned and her heart tripped over a beat. There she was-the little blond girl. She stood in the doorway to the hall, her blue eyes bright as she stared at Gia. She wore the same red and white checkered blouse, the same brown riding breeches and boots as yesterday.
”h.e.l.lo,” Gia said. ”What's your name?”
The girl didn't smile, didn't respond. She kept her hands clasped in front of her as she sang and stared at Gia.
”Do you live around here?”
The song went on. She had a good voice, a sweet tone that stayed on key. But the single-mindedness of the singing was making Gia uncomfortable. As the child went into the verse her hands fluttered to her neckline and began unb.u.t.toning her blouse.
The nape of Gia's neck tightened. ”What are you doing?”
The relentless singing and the blank look in the child's eyes were all disturbing enough. But now this... opening her top...
Was she demented?
”Please don't do that,” Gia said.
The air in the room thickened as the last b.u.t.ton popped free of its hole and the child gripped the two edges of the blouse and spread them, revealing a bare flat chest with a wide, ragged red gash down its center- No-no-no, not a gash, a gaping b.l.o.o.d.y hole, a gaping b.l.o.o.d.y empty empty hole with nothing where her heart should be- hole with nothing where her heart should be-
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