He pulled himself upright. "That's it exactly! The evidence was right there, on the tapes, her laughing, egging me on."
"You got played," I said. "But I'm here to offer you a chance at another round. See, your wife is dead, right? But she's not in hell."
"What?"
"A serious injustice, I know. But you can set that right."
"You want me to prove she did it? I can—"
"No, we've already established that. What we need now is more detail, to give the celestial court a better picture of the defendant, her state of mind at the time of the crimes."
"State of mind? She was fucked-up. Crazy. Obsessed with that Scottish bitch—"
"What Scottish bitch?"
"Suzanne Simmons. She killed some kids back in the sixties."
Now, that sounded familiar. "This Simmons. Did she have a partner?"
"Yeah, her husband or boyfriend. They killed a bunch of kids and buried them out in these grasslands or something."
"And Cheri was interested in this case."
"Interested? She was fucking obsessed. Wouldn't stop talking about it. She'd always been into that kind of stuff, serial killers and shit. We both were. But then, all of a sudden, she starts going on and on about this Scottish chick, telling me all about her. It was spooky. Almost made me think maybe she was some kind of reincarnation of this Suzanne Simmons, but I looked it up, and Simmons was still alive."
"So Cheri talked about those murders."
"And talked and talked and talked. She kept going on about how this Simmons had found the key. That's what she called it. The key. We had to stop pissing around—talking about it, fantasizing about it—and do it."
"Kill someone."
"Only we couldn't just kill them. If we wanted this key, we had to do it a certain way."
"The way Suzanne Simmons had."
"See, that's what didn't make any sense. The stuff she said, it had nothing to do with Simmons. What we had to do was different. She had these instructions—"
"Is that what she called them?"
"Yeah. Instructions. Like she was reading out of some how-to book. At first, it was okay. The stuff she said, it was all things we'd talked about before. But then she started getting careless, and I said, if we keep doing this, we're going to get caught, but she insisted it was all part of the plan, and we were protected."
"Just like Suzanne Simmons, who was caught and sentenced to life in prison."
"Hey, don't look at me. I'm not stupid. But when I brought it up, Cheri said things went wrong with Simmons, but they were all fixed now."
"Uh-huh." I looked him up and down. "Fixed very well, I see."
"Look, that little cunt—"
"This key. What was it?"
"Oh, mystical bullshit. Magic powers and eternal life. Oh, and really great sex." He paused. "Can't say she was wrong on that last part. The sex was pretty damned good."
I remembered the scene from my vision, the girl crying for her mother. My hands balled into fists. Jaime shot me a warning look, but I didn't need it. MacKenzie was being forthcoming so I had no excuse to beat the answers out of him. Not yet.
I prodded his memory some more, but he just kept going in circles, babbling about the key and Suzanne Simmons and the instructions.
"After Cheri started in on this, how long did it take before you started killing?"
"She wanted to right away, but I held her back. I tried to reason with her."
"Uh-huh."
His head shot up, glare meeting mine. "I did. I said killing went too far. I just wanted to bring the girls home and have some fun."
My nails dug into my palms. "You mean you just wanted to rape them."
"Right. I'm no killer. So finally she says, okay, we'll take a girl and I can have some fun. But then, when we're done, she says we can't just let her go." MacKenzie paused. "I had to admit, she did have a point there."
Jaime laid a hand on my arm. Fat lot of good it would have done, since I couldn't even feel her touch, but I got the point and swallowed a snarl.
Before I could ask a new question, MacKenzie faded, becoming translucent. Jaime whispered an incantation and he popped back into 3-D.
"They're pulling him back, Eve," Jaime murmured.
"One last question." I walked to MacKenzie, towering over him. "Do you like it where you are, Robin? Is it a happy place?"
"W—what? Are you kidding? Do you know where I am? They—"
"Stake you out on a rock in the desert and let buzzards pick the flesh from your bones? 'Cause that's what I'd do. In fact, I think I'll suggest they start doing that, because you're every bit as much a murdering piece of shit as your wife."
MacKenzie inched back. "No, you've got it wrong. I didn't—"
"Oh, and speaking of your wife, while I'm sure she'll get her comeuppance someday, I told a little fib earlier. She's not suffering. She's not even dead. But, you know what, she is enjoying that million-dollar life-insurance policy she took out on you before the trial."
"What?" He jumped up. "No way. No fucking way. I never signed—"
"One word for you, Robin: 'forgery.'" I bent down to the vervain bowl. "Oh, and one other word, too." I blew a puff of smoke on him and smiled. " 'Sucker.' "
Robin MacKenzie fell back into the ghost world, his screams still resounding through the cemetery long after he was gone.
"Slammed the door a little hard there, didn't you?" Jaime said. "Let's hope you don't want to talk to him again."
"I won't."
I watched Jaime leave, making sure she got back to her rental car okay. Sure, if someone had jumped her, there's not a damned thing I could have done about it. But I still felt better watching.
When she was gone, applause erupted behind me. I spun to see Kristof, leaning back against a tombstone.
"Now, that was a performance," he said. "Lying about his wife still being alive was good. But the life insurance bit? Truly inspired."
"A bit cliched, don't you think?"
"It worked, didn't it? Added a few extra logs to his hell-fire." He backed onto the double gravestone and motioned for me to sit beside him. "So your Nix was giving Cheri both a role model and a road map."
"You got played," I said. "But I'm here to offer you a chance at another round. See, your wife is dead, right? But she's not in hell."
"What?"
"A serious injustice, I know. But you can set that right."
"You want me to prove she did it? I can—"
"No, we've already established that. What we need now is more detail, to give the celestial court a better picture of the defendant, her state of mind at the time of the crimes."
"State of mind? She was fucked-up. Crazy. Obsessed with that Scottish bitch—"
"What Scottish bitch?"
"Suzanne Simmons. She killed some kids back in the sixties."
Now, that sounded familiar. "This Simmons. Did she have a partner?"
"Yeah, her husband or boyfriend. They killed a bunch of kids and buried them out in these grasslands or something."
"And Cheri was interested in this case."
"Interested? She was fucking obsessed. Wouldn't stop talking about it. She'd always been into that kind of stuff, serial killers and shit. We both were. But then, all of a sudden, she starts going on and on about this Scottish chick, telling me all about her. It was spooky. Almost made me think maybe she was some kind of reincarnation of this Suzanne Simmons, but I looked it up, and Simmons was still alive."
"So Cheri talked about those murders."
"And talked and talked and talked. She kept going on about how this Simmons had found the key. That's what she called it. The key. We had to stop pissing around—talking about it, fantasizing about it—and do it."
"Kill someone."
"Only we couldn't just kill them. If we wanted this key, we had to do it a certain way."
"The way Suzanne Simmons had."
"See, that's what didn't make any sense. The stuff she said, it had nothing to do with Simmons. What we had to do was different. She had these instructions—"
"Is that what she called them?"
"Yeah. Instructions. Like she was reading out of some how-to book. At first, it was okay. The stuff she said, it was all things we'd talked about before. But then she started getting careless, and I said, if we keep doing this, we're going to get caught, but she insisted it was all part of the plan, and we were protected."
"Just like Suzanne Simmons, who was caught and sentenced to life in prison."
"Hey, don't look at me. I'm not stupid. But when I brought it up, Cheri said things went wrong with Simmons, but they were all fixed now."
"Uh-huh." I looked him up and down. "Fixed very well, I see."
"Look, that little cunt—"
"This key. What was it?"
"Oh, mystical bullshit. Magic powers and eternal life. Oh, and really great sex." He paused. "Can't say she was wrong on that last part. The sex was pretty damned good."
I remembered the scene from my vision, the girl crying for her mother. My hands balled into fists. Jaime shot me a warning look, but I didn't need it. MacKenzie was being forthcoming so I had no excuse to beat the answers out of him. Not yet.
I prodded his memory some more, but he just kept going in circles, babbling about the key and Suzanne Simmons and the instructions.
"After Cheri started in on this, how long did it take before you started killing?"
"She wanted to right away, but I held her back. I tried to reason with her."
"Uh-huh."
His head shot up, glare meeting mine. "I did. I said killing went too far. I just wanted to bring the girls home and have some fun."
My nails dug into my palms. "You mean you just wanted to rape them."
"Right. I'm no killer. So finally she says, okay, we'll take a girl and I can have some fun. But then, when we're done, she says we can't just let her go." MacKenzie paused. "I had to admit, she did have a point there."
Jaime laid a hand on my arm. Fat lot of good it would have done, since I couldn't even feel her touch, but I got the point and swallowed a snarl.
Before I could ask a new question, MacKenzie faded, becoming translucent. Jaime whispered an incantation and he popped back into 3-D.
"They're pulling him back, Eve," Jaime murmured.
"One last question." I walked to MacKenzie, towering over him. "Do you like it where you are, Robin? Is it a happy place?"
"W—what? Are you kidding? Do you know where I am? They—"
"Stake you out on a rock in the desert and let buzzards pick the flesh from your bones? 'Cause that's what I'd do. In fact, I think I'll suggest they start doing that, because you're every bit as much a murdering piece of shit as your wife."
MacKenzie inched back. "No, you've got it wrong. I didn't—"
"Oh, and speaking of your wife, while I'm sure she'll get her comeuppance someday, I told a little fib earlier. She's not suffering. She's not even dead. But, you know what, she is enjoying that million-dollar life-insurance policy she took out on you before the trial."
"What?" He jumped up. "No way. No fucking way. I never signed—"
"One word for you, Robin: 'forgery.'" I bent down to the vervain bowl. "Oh, and one other word, too." I blew a puff of smoke on him and smiled. " 'Sucker.' "
Robin MacKenzie fell back into the ghost world, his screams still resounding through the cemetery long after he was gone.
"Slammed the door a little hard there, didn't you?" Jaime said. "Let's hope you don't want to talk to him again."
"I won't."
I watched Jaime leave, making sure she got back to her rental car okay. Sure, if someone had jumped her, there's not a damned thing I could have done about it. But I still felt better watching.
When she was gone, applause erupted behind me. I spun to see Kristof, leaning back against a tombstone.
"Now, that was a performance," he said. "Lying about his wife still being alive was good. But the life insurance bit? Truly inspired."
"A bit cliched, don't you think?"
"It worked, didn't it? Added a few extra logs to his hell-fire." He backed onto the double gravestone and motioned for me to sit beside him. "So your Nix was giving Cheri both a role model and a road map."
