The details made him so real that even the Henrico County officer wept. I envisioned Eddie's wounds and remembered the warm pressure of his hand when I examined him in pediatric intensive care before he was disconnected from life support.
'Oh God,' I muttered in this dim room. 'Oh God, I'm so tired of all this.'
Wesley did not reply. He had gotten up and was standing before the window, drink in hand.
'I'm so tired of cruelty. I'm so tired of people beating horses and killing little boys and head-injured women.'
Wesley did not turn around. He said, 'It's Christmas. You should call your family.'
'You're right. That's just what I need to cheer me up.' I blew my nose and reached for the phone.
At my sister's house in Miami, no one answered. I dug an address book out of my purse and called the hospital where my mother had been for weeks. A nurse in the intensive care unit said Dorothy was with my mother and she would get her.
'Hello?'
'Merry Christmas,' I said to my only sibling.
'I guess that's an irony when you consider where I am. There's certainly nothing merry about this place, not that you would know since you aren't here.'
'I'm quite familiar with intensive care,' I said. 'Where is Lucy and how is she?'
'She's out running errands with her friend. They dropped me off and will be back in an hour or so. Then we're going to Mass. Well, I don't know if the friend will since she's not Catholic.'
'Lucy's friend has a name. Her name is Janet, and she is very nice.'
'I'm not going to get into that.'
'How is Mother?'
'The same.'
'The same as what, Dorothy,' I said, and she was beginning to get to me.
'They've had to suction her a lot today. I don't know what the problem is, but you can't imagine what it's like to watch her try to cough and not make a sound because of that awful tube in her throat. She only made it five minutes off the ventilator today.'
'Does she know what day it is?'
'Oh yes,' Dorothy said ominously. 'Oh yes indeed. I put a little tree on her table. She's been crying a lot.'
A dull ache welled in my chest.
'When are you getting here?' she went on.
'I don't know. We can't leave New York right now.'
'Does it ever strike you, Katie, that you've spent most of your life worrying about dead people?' Her voice was getting sharp. 'I think all your relationships are with dead-'
'Dorothy, you tell Mother I love her and that I called. Please tell Lucy and Janet that I'll try again later tonight or tomorrow.'
I hung up.
Wesley was still standing before the window with his back to me. He was quite familiar with my family difficulties.
'I'm sorry,' he said kindly.
'She would be like that even if I were there.'
'I know. But the point is, you should be there and I should be home.'
When he talked about home I got uncomfortable, because his home and mine were different. I thought again about this case, and when I closed my eyes I saw the woman who looked like a manikin without clothing or wig. I envisioned her awful wounds.
I said, 'Benton, who is he really killing when he kills these people?'
'Himself,' he said. 'Gault is killing himself.'
'That can't be all of it.'
'No, but it is part of it.'
'It's a sport to him,' I said.
'That, too, is true.'
'What about his family? Do we know anything more?'
'No.' He did not turn around. 'Mother and father are healthy and in Beaufort, South Carolina.
'
'It's a sport to him,' I said.
'That, too, is true.'
'What about his family? Do we know anything more?'
'No.' He did not turn around. 'Mother and father are healthy and in Beaufort, South Carolina.'
'They moved from Albany?'
'Remember the flood.'
'Oh yes. The storm.'
'South Georgia was almost washed away. Apparently the Gaults left and are in Beaufort now. I think they're also looking for privacy.'
'I can only imagine.'
'Right. Tour buses were rolling past their house in Georgia. Reporters were knocking on their door. They will not cooperate with the authorities. As you know, I have repeatedly requested interviews and have been denied.'
'I wish we knew more about his childhood,' I said.
'He grew up on the family plantation, which was basically a big white frame house set on hundreds of acres of pecan trees. Nearby was the factory that made nut logs and other candies you see in truck stops and restaurants, mostly in the South. As for what went on inside that house while Gault lived there, we don't know.'
'And his sister?'
'Still on the West Coast somewhere, I guess. We can't find her to talk to her. She probably wouldn't anyway.'
'What is the likelihood that Gault would contact her?'
'Hard to say. But we've not learned anything that would indicate the two of them have ever been close. It doesn't appear that Gault has been close - in the normal sense - to anyone his entire life.'
'Where have you been today?' My voice was gentler and I felt more relaxed.
'I talked to several detectives and did a lot of walking.'
'Walking for exercise or work?'
'Mostly the latter, but both. By the way, Snow White is gone. The driver just left with an empty carriage. And he didn't hit her.'
I opened my eyes. 'Please tell me more about your walk.'
'I walked through the area where Gault was seen in the subway station with the victim at Central Park West and Eighty-first. Depending on the weather and what route you take, that particular subway entrance is maybe a five-, ten-minute walk from the Ramble.'
'But we don't know that they went in there.'
'We don't know a damn thing,' he said, letting out a long, weary breath. 'Certainly, we have recovered footwear impressions. But there are so many other footprints, hoof prints, dog prints and God knows what. Or at least there were.' He paused as snow streaked past the glass.
'You're thinking he's been living around there.'
'That subway station's not a transfer station. It's a destination station. People who get off there either live on the Upper West Side or are going to one of the restaurants, the museum or events in the park.'
'Which is why I don't think Gault has been living in that neighborhood,' I said. 'In a station like the one at Eighty-first or others nearby, you probably see the same people over and over again. It seems that the transit officer who gave Gault a ticket would have recognized him if Gault was local and used the subway a lot.'
'That's a good point,' Wesley said. 'It appears Gault was familiar with the area where he chose to commit the crime. Yet there's no indication he ever spent time in that area. So how could he be familiar with it?' He turned around to face me.
The lights were off in the room, and he was in the shadows before a marbled background of gray sky and snow. Wesley looked thin, dark trousers hanging from his hips, a belt pulled to a new notch.
'You've lost weight,' I said.
'I'm flattered you would notice,' he wryly said.