Part 15 (2/2)

”Thank you.”

”Even if she is bit of a spaz,” he added with a smile.

”Give her a break, Rob. She's never even seen seen chopsticks before!” chopsticks before!”

”All right. But I'm giving her a pair to practice with. Next time you're back in town, we'll do this again and I expect her to be a pro.”

There won't be a next time, Kara thought with genuine regret.

”What's on the schedule tomorrow?” he said.

”Got an appointment with my editor-to see if I can get an extension on the deadline for my book-and then it's back to the farm.”

”Ever think of trying the city again? It's a great place for writers.”

Kara gave him a level stare and returned the ball to his court.

”Why don't you open that restaurant you've always talked about? Lancaster can always use another good restaurant. And no matter how great New York is for writing, it's a lousy place to raise a child. Besides, I like writing at the farm.”

Rob sighed resignedly. ”Got a t.i.tle for your book?”

Kara was grateful for the change of subject.

”It's called Feminism and Fascism Feminism and Fascism.”

He raised his eyebrows. ”Catchy. What's it about?”

”It's basically cautionary, showing how some of the movement's more radical methods and legislative drives may be turned around on us some day and do us harm instead of good. Right now I'm working on a chapter that shows why we shouldn't wail and moan about so-called 's.e.xual bias' in tests like the SATs. The whole purpose of the movement is to show we're just as sharp, just as smart as males, so how better to prove that than by outscoring them on any test males take? If we're equal, why should we insist on special treatment?”

”I'll buy the first copy,” Rob said. ”When do you think it'll be published?”

Before she could reply, Jill's high-pitched yelp came from the bathroom.

”Whoa! Does this this ever exploit women!” ever exploit women!”

Rob's eyes widened and he leapt from his chair.

”Oh, Christ! My Penthouses Penthouses!”

”Can we see Rob again soon?” Jill said as they stepped inside Ellen's front door.

”Oh, so it's 'Rob' now, is it?” Kara said, relieved that she had been able to get away without making any more promises to him.

”He told me to call him that.”

”Well, you should still call him 'Mr. Harris.' ”

”Can we have him come down and visit us on the farm?”

”Next time he's in Elderun,” Kara said, ”I promise we'll have him over for dinner.”

”Good! 'Cause I like him a lot,” she said, and ran toward her bedroom.

Kara bit her lip as she watched her daughter scamper away. Soon or later she was going to have to tell them. But when when?

So excited. Don't recall ever seeing him this excited. Thinks he has her now. Absolutely sure of it excited. Don't recall ever seeing him this excited. Thinks he has her now. Absolutely sure of it.

Too bad. Because he's rarely wrong.

Her only hope is to flee, to get as far away as she can. But she won't. They never do. He won't let them. Especially not this one. He wants her so very badly.

Wonder why.

He'd never tell me, even if I asked him, but think I know why. Because this one is the twin of the other one. So angry when he lost her. No one's ever gotten away from him before. So having this new one, this twin of the other, is just like having the lost one back again.

That must be the reason for his excitement. Like a little child, really: furious when he doesn't get his way and euphoric when he does.

I'd love to see him thwarted again. Wish I could find a way to warn the new one, but of course that's impossible as long as all my free hours are spent caged in this place.

Must be a way. I'll have to work on it. Yes. That's my project.

Of course, if the new blonde goes far enough away, I won't have to warn her. But think I'll work on the plan anyway. For I don't think she has a chance.

February 13 5:36 P.M.

Ed Bannion had spent a lot of time in the New York Public Library since his visit with Kara Wade two nights ago. He'd checked out what books he could, and every spare minute of his free time during library hours had been spent pouring over psychiatric journals. He'd done an awful lot of reading on multiple personalities and had become adept at translating Psychobabble into plain English. Anyone who thought lawyers lived in doubletalk should try reading this garbage for a couple of days.

And the more he read, the more he became convinced that the medical profession didn't know squat about the human mind. Right now he was studying the section on dissociative disorders in the DSM-III-R DSM-III-R. Multiple personality disorder was listed there. He'd read it so often he knew the diagnostic criteria by heart. Diagnostic criteria for 300.14 Multiple Personality Disorder Diagnostic criteria for 300.14 Multiple Personality Disorder: A. The existence within the person of two or more distinct personalities or personality states (each with its own relatively enduring pattern of perceiving, relating to, and thinking about the environment and self).

B. At least two of these personalities or personality states recurrently take full control of the person's behavior.

So why was he reading this again? h.e.l.l, why was he even here here! It was Happy Hour on Friday. He should have been heading for one of his usual weekend haunts, like Nomura's, huddling with the regular crowd around the sus.h.i.+ bar, drinking Kirin and scarfing down California rolls. But he had no desire for that scene tonight. What was wrong with him?

It was that woman, that Kelly Wade. Her tortured face before she went out the window still hovered about him.

At least now he had an explanation. The second personality, the one named Ingrid, was the one that had picked up Phil and him. Ingrid had been the s.e.xual acrobat. And then for one reason or another, Kelly had come back. She'd been shocked and repulsed by the situation in which she suddenly found herself. Must've figured out that her other half had got her into it. Right. The Jekyll half had suddenly awakened in the middle of one of Hyde's orgies and it scared the s.h.i.+t out of her. So she panicked and started bouncing off the walls looking for a way out. Unfortunately she found the window before she found the door. She probably didn't know the window was twelve stories up.

Or did she? Had she seen that window as a way out of more than just the hotel room?

Ed sighed and leaned back and rubbed his weary eyes. Whatever the case, he wasn't responsible. He and his brother had merely accompanied ”Ingrid” up to her room for a little dirty fun between three consenting adults. What happened after that was not their fault.

So why do I feel so d.a.m.n guilty?

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