The Tower

The guilt at that memory still gnawed at her from time to time. What could I have done differently? she would ask herself defensively. Did I do all I could to protect my boy, to treat him normally afterward? Did my feelings of disgust filter through the mask I wore at home? Did Allander feel my anger, my irrational fury that he had brought all of this to our lives?

After the boy had… after the incident between her and Allander, Darby had known that Thomas considered his son dead to him. In fact, he had felt that Allander was no longer his son. After that, Thomas had told her, he felt that Allander drew his inspiration from some source beyond Thomas's comprehension.

"Hon, are you all right?" Thomas's soft voice at the door startled her, and she knocked over her glass of wine. She watched as the liquid darkened the papers on the desk-the bank statements, the mortgage papers, the letters and magazines. She made no effort to stop the flow, but watched it as the keen smell of alcohol rose to her nostrils and permeated the room.

Thomas walked over and leaned on the desk beside her. He cradled her head to his chest as the tears came, and they cried together softly. Finally, Darby leaned back and looked at him, then wiped the tears from his cheeks with her thumb. She spread her hands and used her fingers to erase the tears beneath her own eyes.

"Well, hon," she said. "I guess we're just one big dysfunctional family, aren't we?" They laughed together for a while. Gradually, their laughter fell back into tears.

Chapter 33

J A D E lay draped across his leather couch in a daze, surrounded by the clutter of books and papers. A taped recording of a psychiatric interview played, and Allander's voice resonated through the room. Three of the walls now held black-and-white photographs of Allander and his victims, and the television blinked images of his trial, the bluish glow mapping erratic patterns of light onto the room.

Jade's eyes closed briefly and his hand, still grasping the document he had begun to examine, fell to his chest. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to fight off sleep, but his exhaustion was too great.

He was reclining in the middle of a massive rose garden, a peaceful oasis that seemed to exist out of time and place. Row after row of roses stretched before him, roses of different sizes and colors. A stone wall surrounded the fertile soil of the garden.

Lying propped on his elbows, Jade surveyed the calm surroundings and inhaled the fresh air. Suddenly a roll of thunder broke from behind the clear sky, and Jade searched overhead for any trace of darkness. There was none. The sound of tiny footsteps became slowly distinguishable, a cavalry of small feet pounding a ground unseen, accompanied by the whistle of thin legs pumping vigorously.

Then they were there. Hands grasped the top of the stone wall, hoisting to elbows, then elbows to knees. Bodies poured over the wall, spilling down the ten-foot fall and bouncing effortlessly to their feet.

Boys. Scores of boys flooding the garden from all sides.

A look of panic flashed across Jade's face, an unfamiliar expression that sat awkwardly on his features. He rose quickly and twisted to glance around.

He watched as the boys continued to tumble over the wall. Righting themselves, they attacked the rosebushes, breaking off stems and gripping them tightly, the thorns puncturing the flesh of their hands. Using the stems like sickles, they lopped off the heads of the flowers. The blossoms fell and the petals came apart, littering the ground. The boys laughed as they raced through the rows of bushes toward Jade, who was frozen in place.

The boys bleated in pleasure as they raised their voices to the heavens, breaking into a chant of nursery rhymes. "Eenie meenie minie moe," they sang, repeating the lyrics in a near scream.

Rosebush after rosebush fell before their marching feet, plowed down by the vanguard. Droplets of blood from the boys' hands fell to the ground and dotted the trampled petals. The rose stems snapped through the air like whips. Jade recoiled before the onslaught, lifting his hands to his face, peering out through the prism of his fingers.

He awoke from his dream with the noise of Allander's voice filling his ears and with Allander's eyes gazing at him from the pictures spread about the apartment. He didn't lurch awake as many people do after a nightmare. Instead, his eyes opened and he waited silently for the world to flood back to him.

Jade rose from the couch and walked to his study, crunching papers underfoot as he moved. As he crossed the living room, his pace accelerated until he was running.

Inside the study, which, unlike the living room, was still neat and clean, Jade picked up from the desk a small box that held pencils and pens. He dashed its contents to the desktop, then struggled to keep them from falling to the floor, fencing them in with his forearms.