CHAPTER TWENTY NINEA Question that is Never AskedEddie blew everybody away down at the station, just as he hoped. He was a little upset that Bryony wasn’t there like she promised, but he figured she had a good reason. And she did, because when he was nervously strumming the first few words of his new song, she was sobbing into the detective’s shoulder, thinking of the life she would never get to live with Eddie.Too soon. Too soon. It was coming.The body floating in Lake Washington had been a particularly young and pretty girl whose name is not important. It would have been to her family if they had been aware of her death, but they hadn’t been in contact with her for years, ever since she left to run away with a man named Mike. Every girl has dated a Mike in her life, and very few of them have turned out to be a good decision, but it happens. This Mike turned out to be a typical Mike situation, and as soon as the girl told him that she was having a baby, he left her. Now this t
CHAPTER THIRTYChild of the SkyDetective Bridger sat at his desk with several grisly pictures spread out in front of him. Lovely young women without heads, without hands, without eyes. Women with their heads shaved and women with their bodies disassembled. There didn’t seem to be anything in particular linking them together, but the sheer number of victims caught his attention, and the sadness around their tender mouths kept it.How many mothers will pick up the phone to call their daughters, and then suddenly sink into a chair when they remember nobody will answer? How many little girls will grow up without somebody’s gentle hands braiding their hair? What the good detective didn’t want to admit to anybody, especially himself, was that whenever he closed his eyes he saw Bryony Adams’ face staring up at him from each portrait.Bryony devoid of skin and clothing and emotion. Bryony imperceptibly shaking her head and saying, “Why didn’t you help me, Detective Bridger? Why did you le
CHAPTER THIRTY ONEThe Desert is WaitingSyrina and Rikki-Tikki were, of course, thrilled with the news that Bryony and Eddie were getting married. Syrina immediately dumped her coffee can of spare change out on the bed, but it wasn’t nearly enough to buy a plane ticket. She pouted briefly but was quickly caught up again in the splendid rush of excitement.“When?” Syrina asked, helping Bryony throw her meager belongings in a pleasingly large suitcase. “When is the wedding?”“Hopefully tonight,” Bryony said, “although it is more likely that we’ll get married tomorrow. I have to be realistic, you know.”“Yes, indeed you do,” Syrina agreed. “That’s my girl. How I wish we could come. But here, wear this dress and think of me at least once during the ceremony. It will look stunning!”They discussed the big party they would throw when Eddie and Bryony came back, and what kind of delicious treats they should have, and how Bryony should wear her hair for the wedding. Up, it was decided.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWOThe Horror of Love“Daddy, this is Eddie. I love him, and he loves me, and he is strong enough to handle anything that needs handling, and you’d better listen carefully because now I’m going to be Mrs. Warshouski. That’s W-a-r-s-h-o-u-s-k-i. Warshouski. Now let’s get everybody together because we really would like to get married soon, please.”Bryony threw herself onto her aging father, who cried happy tears for his little girl. And Eddie reached out to shake his hand, but he was drawn into the hug, as well, and Stop kept saying: “Bless you, my boy.”Eyes were wet and smiles were genuine and Eddie looked around the house and deemed Bryony’s childhood home to be absolutely lovely and worthy of her.Then he turned and looked out of the windowtowardthedesert.“It has always been this way,” Bryony offered by way of explanation, and Eddie had to go and sit down for a minute because his heart threatened to stop and his legs tried to give out.“How can you live
CHAPTER THIRTY THREEAre You Alive? Here Are Some MuffinsDetective Bridger stood outside the door for a second before knocking. He felt rather silly holding a basket of warm muffins, but his wife had insisted. The detective cleared his throat and tried to look extra official.Rikki-Tikki answered the door. “Yes?”The detective’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”“Good to see you again, Detective Bridger. How’s our homicidal home invader?”Detective Bridger smiled slightly. “I think that particular man is scared straight for a good long while. He didn’t want to confess to any of the other crimes until we threatened to put him in a locked room with Syrina. Suddenly he had a lot to say.”“She’ll be pleased to hear that. What can I do for you, detective?”Detective Bridger straightened. “I was looking for Miss Adams. I was going to . . . my wife . . . these muffins,” he said awkwardly, and held them out to Rikki-Tikki.“She isn’t home right now.”“When will she be back?”
CHAPTER THIRTY FOURPain and PeaceToday was a beautiful day as far as Mrs. Warshouski was concerned. Her darling Eddie was getting married, and what could possibly be better than that? Why, nothing. Nothing. Soon their house would be full of tiny Edwards and . . . what was her name again? A poisonous flower. Oleander? Baneberry? Goodness, that can’t be it. No mother in her right mind would ever name her daughter Baneberry.Mrs. Warshouski could just see it now . . .“Why, hello, new mother. I am your nurse. You have a tiny baby girl.”“Oh, do I? How utterly delightful. I am ever so happy.”“As am I. What a pleasure to assist in the labor and delivery. And what, pray tell, are you going to name your little bundle of goodness and light?”“I shall call her Baneberry.”“ . . . Shall you? Oh my.”“Yes. I wish to give my daughter a rather conflicting name, you see, and I felt that being called after a poisonous flower would do just that. First I thought of Elephant Ear, but you can
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVEIf You Had Never Met MeThe phone was ringing back at Stop’s home. It rang for several minutes, silenced itself long enough to take a breath, and then rang again. Stop hobbled into the house, cheeks still glowing from the wedding. Bryony and Eddie were close behind.“Hello?” Stop said into the phone. His voice was merry and young, and it reminded Bryony of when she was a child. Stop used to rollerskate with her. He taught her how to climb trees. “Yes, he’s right here. Hold on a second.”He handed the phone to Eddie. Eddie grinned at him.“Yeah?” he said.He didn’t speak for a long time after that, just listened. His face went paler and paler until he rivaled Bryony herself. She pulled a chair over to him and he sat down.That’s when she knew.Stop must have realized it, too, because he put his arms around his daughter, smoothing her hair. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.” His newfound youthfulness was a lie, a dreadful deceit, for he wa
CHAPTER THIRTY SIXHe Has a NameThe murderer was thrilled to see Bryony back on the trail. It had been a few days, not so long, as he was beginning to despair of ever seeing her again, but long enough that he had killed twice more in her absence. Nobody spectacular or even very special; just some random people he deemed suitable. But now she was back and ready to play.Only . . . only there was something different about her, and he couldn’t quite figure it out. Something about the way she held herself, something about the shape of her mouth.Ah, yes. Grief.How unusual. She was a woman born of grief, and yet somehow she was breaking under the weight of it. It was a lovely thing to see, actually, like the branches of a tree snapping under an ice storm, a sort of beauty in the pale horror of the event, but at the same time, he didn’t enjoy seeing her suffer. She moved him in a way he hadn’t often been moved. It was like watching a ghost fade away after you had just grown accustomed
CHAPTER SIXTY ONEThere Is No EndLightning did not hit our sweet Bryony. The same time it flashed, a car came spinning out of nowhere, and its headlights were stark and bright and almost blinded our dear girl. Her heart shivered and stopped momentarily, quite knocked out of sorts by the extreme overload, but soon came back to itself and began to beat resolutely.Car doors slammed and feet hurried over to her.“Bryony!” cried out a voice, a familiar voice, a dear and good voice. Bryony raised her head and looked through the veil of water to see death had been kind enough to send her an angel who looked, sounded, and, oh my, felt just like her Eddie.“Bryony, I will never leave you again, I swear it. Never, never,” he said, and buried his face into her wet hair, and kissed her cold face and lips and cheeks and fingers. He gently caressed her burst stitches and tried not to cry.A man walked up from behind him and held out a blanket. Eddie helped Bryony to her feet and she was soon
CHAPTER SIXTYThe EndOh, what a terrible story!How could it be that we followed Bryony’s journey from the time she was a little girl, ignorant of all that would befall her, through her first kiss and college and meeting friends and Eddie and her tormented killer and her fight to the death, and then she dies in the end?She dies. Bryony falls to the ground like a flower, and we are left to mourn her. More than that, we feel betrayed. We invested time and interest. We cheered her on and we shouted: “No, don’t let that man in your home!” and “Eddie, what are you doing, you must go with Bryony!” and “Hooray, Teddy Baker, you had decency inside of you all along, and we are so very proud of you for your choices!” Perhaps there were even a few thoughts of, “I wonder what a jonquil looks like. I shall certainly run to look one up and educate myself so I may better relate to the tale of Bryony and her Eddie.”Perhaps you are angry, dear reader. Perhaps you hoped better for our girl, beca
CHAPTER FIFTY NINEBlood and Wind and RainThere comes a time in everyone’s life when a decision must be made.There are always decisions being made, every second of every day, and sometimes that decision is simply not to decide. However, it needs be said that one day every living thing on this earth will make The Utmost Decision, the decision that will change the rest of their existence one way or the other. What is this decision, you ask? It is different for everybody, and you will not know what yours will be until the time comes, and perhaps even then you will not realize the importance of your choice.But as for our dear Bryony, when the time came and she was faced with her Utmost Decision, she realized the ramification of that instant with serene clarity. In fact, as she stood there in the blood and wind and rain with a killer and his brightly shining knife, the terror subsided for a perfect moment and she had amazing presence of mind.She thought, “He has found me, and I am
CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHTFight“Bryony,” Peter huffed. “I wish you were feeling better, that you were whole. You have no idea how much I wish this for you. Alas, it is not meant to be, because it is time. You and I have a dance to finish, don’t we?”The wind picked up, blowing the storm their way, blowing Bryony’s hair around her white face like a flag signaling for help. But no help was to be had, and she was stuck fast while Peter pressed behind her, his hand fisted in her hair.Bryony’s head was pulled sharply back, and the wind caressed her vulnerable throat in a way that unnerved her.She tried to keep her voice calm when she said: “I wish that you wouldn’t kill me, Peter. It would disappoint Eddie. It would disappoint my father.”Peter shrugged. “We can’t change who we are, can we? No, we cannot. I was born to live and you were born to die, my beautiful Bryony.” He coughed. “This wind, it’s blowing sand in my face. However do you get used to it? I can’t breathe.”“Just give you
CHAPTER FIFTY SEVENThe ChaseThe first drop of rain hit Bryony beside her eye, and ran down her face like tears.No, she thought. No!She knew Peter was behind her, and her mind went cottony with despair and panic. More time! She needed more time.Bryony picked up her pace. It would deplete her energy faster, but if she didn’t outrun him, her reserve of energy certainly wouldn’t do her any good.She scrapped her earlier plan of hiding in the library and phoning for help. Plan B consisted of running to the closest house and screaming hysterically for help. Unfortunately for her, that was still a good four miles. Loneliness consumed her, biting at her cheeks like the stormy air. It was all catching up with her. It was catching up.It was catching up. Already Peter could see her pale hair gathering and reflecting the weak light that somehow managed to filter through the harsh clouds. She was glowing, an ethereal will-o-wisp, and thoughts of the old tales flitted through his mind.
CHAPTER FIFTY SIXThe KnifeThe thing that must be remembered about Peter is that he, too, is a runner. Whereas Bryony planned to keep a little extra energy in her tank so as to make it the entire five miles, Peter had no such plans. He was sprinting, because he did not need to make it to the edge of town: he only needed to make it to the girl.His feet hit the ground like pistons, cold and mechanical, and he held the knife tightly in his grip, blade down.Oh, oh, how tragically this shall unfold.
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVECloudsThe car wouldn’t start, and Bryony knew this was unusual. Didn’t it start perfectly only today? Hadn’t it been a good and serviceable vehicle? Now, suddenly when she needed it most, it chose to let its internal parts rust and die and spew fluid hither and yon?She didn’t think so.Bryony peeked up and saw a man in the window of her father’s room. At first her heart skidded to a stop—Daddy!—but then she remembered her father was dead, and the man silhouetted there was Peter, and she had been warned against him within the last few hours by two people who cared for her.And she was a kind girl, a tender girl, but she was also a smart girl when her eyes were opened, and her father and Teddy succeeded in opening her eyes. Peter didn’t move from the window, and his body language told Bryony he was most likely off in a world of his own, so she used this to her advantage. She opened the car door as quietly as she could, slid out, and hit the ground doing what she
CHAPTER FIFTY FOURIdeallyPeter woke up with a start. Something was wrong. What was it? What was it?He was somewhere unfamiliar, and this realization had him on his feet beside the bed in no time. Had he been caught? Had he been taken? He would rather die before being taken, and he didn’t remember a struggle of any sort whatsoever.A quick scan of the room jogged his memory. Ah, yes. This was Stop’s house, the home where Bryony grew up, and he was sleeping in the bed of a dead man, but being who he was meant this didn’t bother him any. Stop had seemed like a good and decent man, and heaven knows his daughter adored him, and the fact that he had disliked Peter on sight, well, it only said good things about him, too.Downstairs Bryony would be sleeping, curled up on her side with, he imagined, her fingers close to her mouth like a child. She had fallen asleep in her clothes, but if she had the time to choose whatever she wanted to wear, would she be wearing a white nightgown to co
CHAPTER FIFTY THREEPlease LiveBryony nodded, and clutched the shoes to her chest like a talisman.“Thank you so much, Teddy. It can’t be easy to come here and say this to me. In my heart I think I always knew Peter was what you say, but I don’t want to believe that, you see. It means I have been foolish, which I have, and that Eddie has been blind, which he has. It means I should have run a long time ago, and I didn’t, and now I am sorry. It means when he saved me, he didn’t do it because he’s a good person, and I so dearly want him to be a good person. Please thank your wife for me, and kiss your beautiful girl, and take care of my father for me. Place him in the desert, and let him tamp it down and hold it back. I fear I shall never return here. Never again. I have nothing to come back for.”Teddy leaned through the window, kissed Bryony on her cheek and ran his hand over the stitches on her face.“I wish I could help more than this, but I can’t. Please live, sweet girl. You g