Chapter 65

WHALEN LET GO OF my hair and pressed the pistol barrel against the small of my back.

“Walk little kitten. Walk away.”

I did it, without a word of protest. I wasn’t frightened anymore. I felt resolved somehow. I knew what was coming, where I was going. I’d known for a while now where I was going. I’d been there before. In a strange way I wanted to go back down there. The situation reeked of inevitability, as if I’d been waiting for this moment for thirty years; as if what happened to Molly and I when we were twelve was merely a prologue to this very moment in time. I wanted to go back down there if only to be with Michael; to finish this thing while holding him tightly.

We entered the house.

Whalen used his own flashlight to light the way across a floor that over three decades had become even more warped and rotted. When we came to the door that led into the basement, I could see that an electric light was already on.

When he gave me a shove, I resisted. But when he pushed me I lost my footing and fell.

I slid down the wooden stairs, my body slamming against each wood tread. By the time I landed, I thought I’d pass out from the pain. My vision was distorted, going in and out of focus.

He descended the stairs, the soles of his leather boots stamping the wood treads one by one. I could already smell him. When he made it to the landing, he tucked his pistol into the waist of his filthy dungarees. He slipped his hands under my arms, dragging me across the dirt floor. My head hung so that I was staring up at the exposed beams, at the wires and meat hooks that still descended from them.

He reached down and touched my lips with his fingers. But when I bit his hand, I tasted blood.

He reared back with his hand, slapped my face.

As he straightened up, I laid my head back. The figure caught my eye. The figure of a man. Arms, legs and torso hanging upside down from the ceiling. Bare feet chained to the rafters.

Michael.

Whalen had hung him upside down like a slaughtered animal. My eyes filled with the sight of his lifeless body. I screamed without making a sound. I sobbed without shedding a tear. I died but with a beating heart.