Woman (19 page)

     He scowled at himself. The
police were already scouring the neighborhood, his wandering around wouldn't be
a bit of use. And he had to stay by the phone. If someone called. Anyone. He
groaned and rubbed his face. I need a shave, he thought. For
what?
his mind demanded irritably.

     Standing, he trudged wearily
into the kitchen. The only thing he'd managed to do was make himself a pot of
coffee. He poured himself a cup and drank some. His stomach felt tight and
acidy, he probably should stop drinking so much coffee. Or have a piece of
toast, he thought. The thought was unpalatable to him.

     He went back into the living
room and slumped down on the sofa. He drank some coffee, staring at the
telephone indecisively. It was a call he hadn't made. It probably was
pointless. She was undoubtedly at the hospital with her husband.

     Still. . .maybe she went
home to change clothes, to do
something.
Not that she could possibly know anything about where Liz was.
Still. . .

     "Oh, God," he
muttered.
Call,
he told
himself. You never know. If there was any possibility at all. Putting down the
cup of coffee, he pulled open the table drawer and lifted out the leather-bound
telephone book, riffling through its pages until he found the number. He
punched it out slowly. Be there, he thought. Know something.

     When she picked up the
receiver at the other end of the line, David felt a surge of hope. He knew it
was irrational. But anything.
Anything.

     "Mrs. Mann?" he
said.

     "Yes?"

     "This is David Harper,
Liz Harper's husband—we met once."

     "Yes?" she said
again. Her tone was lifeless.

     "I apologize for
calling you when I know you're going through such stress about Charlie
but—"

     "He's dead," she
said, her voice chillingly quiet.

     
"What?"
He realized that she knew he'd heard because she didn't respond.
"I'm so sorry," he said, a sense of guilt almost overwhelming him.
"I didn't know, nobody told me. When did it happen?"

     He expected her to hang up
on him, his questions had been so crudely thoughtless.

     She didn't hang up.
"Last night," she said. "A stomach hemorrhage."

     "My God," he
murmured. Charlie. So hearty, so robust.
Dead?

     He knew that he should end
the call but couldn't make himself do it. "I don't like asking you,"
he said, "but Liz has disappeared. At least it seems as though she
has."

     "I'm sorry," she
said.

     Stop! He told himself. He
couldn't do it though. "Did you see her at the hospital? Has she called
your apartment, left a message?"

     "No, she hasn't,"
she said, "I'm sorry, I can't help you."

     "Thank you anyway. I
apologize, if I bothered you."

     "That's all
right." "

     He heard himself speaking
on, even knowing it was pointless and undoubtedly distressing to her. "If
her brother calls—or Max or Barbara Silver, would you ask them to phone
me?"

     "You can't call
them?" she asked, curious and demanding at once.

     "No, I haven't been
able to get in touch with any of them," David said.
Get off!
his mind demanded. "Thank
you, Mrs. Mann. And, once again, I'm so sorry to hear about Charlie. He was —
" He broke off.
No more talk,
he ordered himself. "Goodbye," he said.

     "Goodbye," she
answered.

     He set down the receiver and
sat immobile, staring at the phone. Charlie, dead, he thought. Was it possible?
That Ganine had caused the hemorrhage? The concept frightened and repelled him.
But then there was Val and what had happened to him. If I could only call
Ganine, he thought.

     "Oh, sure, that's a
great
idea," he snarled. Jesus God!
If he never saw her again, it would be too soon.

     He had just slumped back on
the sofa, closing his eyes, when the doorbell rang.

     Oh, God, it's
her,
he thought. What was he going to do
if it really was?

     But maybe it was someone
from the police. He tried to ignore the common-sense realization that they
wouldn't come to the apartment but telephone him.

     He sat, unable to move. The
doorbell rang again. You have to answer it, he told himself. Even if it turns
out to be Ganine.

     Bracing himself, he stood
and crossed the room to the door.

     He started to open it, then
held it back. He couldn't make himself do it without knowing. "Yes?"
he said. "Who is it?"

     "Emma Woodbury,"
the voice answered.

     Woodbury, he thought. At
first, it didn't register. Then he remembered. It was Ganine's last name.

     But who was Emma Woodbury?

     As though he'd asked the
question aloud, the woman said, "I'm Ganine's mother."

     Oh, God, he thought. Now
what? Was
she
going to ask
him to help Ganine too? He hesitated for several moments, then decided that it
might prove helpful to him in understanding Ganine; at least acquiring more
basic information about her.

     He opened the door and
looked at the short, plump, gray-haired woman standing there. Ganine looked
nothing at all like her mother. She is Ganine's mother, isn't she? his mind
probed suspiciously. Let that go, he ordered himself. He'd simply have to
accept that she was really Ganine's mother.

     "You're Doctor
Harper?" the woman asked.

     "Yes, I am. What can I
do for you?"

     The woman looked at him with
an awkward expression on her face. "Is it all right if I come in?"
she asked.

     He wasn't sure about that.
Still. . .the woman looked harmless enough. But then so did Ganine. David
winced at the tangle of conflicting thoughts in his mind. "Yes, please
do," he heard himself say. It wasn't what he really wanted but now it was
done. He stepped aside and Mrs. Woodbury entered, her posture one of timid
uneasiness. David closed the door and turned to her. "What can I do for
you?" he repeated, then, abruptly on impulse, asked "Is this about my
wife?"

     The woman stared at him.
"Your wife?" she said.

     David knew immediately that
Mrs. Woodbury knew nothing about Liz. "Never mind," he told her.
"What is it you want to talk about?" He already knew the answer.

     "My daughter," the
woman said.

     He felt a chill across his
body. Was Mrs. Woodbury aware of Ganine's powers?

     "She isn't here, is
she?" Mrs. Woodbury asked nervously.

     "No," he said.
"Did you think she would be?"

     "I didn't know,"
her mother answered. "I just. . .wanted to make sure she wasn't
here."

     The chill again. David
didn't know how to respond.

     "Why did you ask about
your wife?" Mrs. Woodbury asked. She sounded uneasy.

     David felt an uncomfortable
reluctance to speak aboutLiz. He didn't want to ask if Ganine had mentioned Liz
to her mother. What
did
they
talk about? Exactly how much did Mrs. Woodbury know about her daughter?

     "You aren't helping
her, are you?" the woman asked abruptly.

     For the third time, the
chill through his body. "I. . .recommended another doctor," he said.

     
''Don't
have anything to do with her,"
Mrs. Woodbury told
him in a tight voice.

     
"Why?"
he demanded, "What do you know about her? What kind of. . .powers
does she have?"

     Mrs. Woodbury shook her
head. David couldn't tell why. Was she afraid to answer his question? Did she
know
about Ganine's powers? She had to.
Why else would she be here?

     "She isn't
normal," Mrs. Woodbury said, "Since she was a child. She. .
.did
things."

     
"Things?"
David was aware of how thin his voice was.

     Mrs. Woodbury didn't
continue, her face suddenly beset by dread. "If she knew I was here,"
she said. She drew in a shaking breath. "When she gets mad. . ."

     She couldn't finish, her
body wracked by a shudder.

     "What is it?" he
asked. "What does she do when she gets. . . angry?"

     "When she was eight,
she had a kitten. It scratched her hand and she. . ." Another indrawn,
trembling breath. "She made it disappear."

     "What do you
mean?" he asked. "She made it disappear?" He felt a sense of
total confusion and dread. He was afraid to ask any more.

     "She's
evil,
Doctor," Ganine's mother said.
"That's the truth of it."

     He didn't know how to react.
He was a doctor. Evil was an ambiguous term to him. He couldn't allow himself
to take it at face value as Ganine's mother obviously did

     "What—?" he began.

     "It's not her
fault," Mrs. Woodbury interrupted him."Her father was an animal. He
beat her. Abused her. Even. . ." She couldn't finish. "Years
later," she said, "when he was coming at her to hit her again—she
screamed, 'You can't hurt me!' and he fell down, his ankle twisting around. She
did it to him."

     Dear God, he thought.

     He stiffened as she grabbed
his right wrist. "
Don'ttry to help her,"
she told him. "No matter how she begs you. You
can't
help her. You
can't."

     "If you don't think I
can help her, why did you
come
here?" he asked.

     "To warn you," she
said. "To
warn
you.
She'll get mad at me sometimes and, suddenly, I'll get a terrible
headache."

     
Christalmighty,
David thought. Now the headache.

     "Then she'll put her
hand on my head and tell me, 'Just be nice to me and the headache will go
away.'"