Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

temper and do something foolish, Jimmy. It would only make things worse," I warned.
    "Don't worry," Jimmy assured me. "I can handle his sort." He locked his eyes tightly on the door. "Ready, Fern?" he asked, taking her hand. She looked up at him and nodded. "Remember," he said, "tell the truth and don't be afraid."
    "Okay." She nodded and started forward, but to me she finally looked terrified.
    "It will be all right, honey," I said, coming up beside her. I put my hand on her shoulder. Together the three of us climbed the stairs. Jimmy pushed the button for the doorbell, and just as before, Snoogles began to yap. The look of surprise on Clayton Osborne's face when he opened the door turned hesitantly to a look of anger when he saw Fern standing between us.
    "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "Kelly Ann, where have you been? How dare you leave this house without permission?" He reached forward to seize her by the shoulder, but Jimmy grabbed his wrist in midair.
    "Hold on," Jimmy snapped. "We have some things to discuss and Fern," he said, pronouncing the name sharply, "has to be present."
    Clayton pulled his wrist out of Jimmy's hand.
    "So you've gone and broken your agreement," he said, rubbing his wrist. "I should have known. Well, you can both just turn around and get out of here before I call the police."
    "Actually, that's what we want you to do," Jimmy said. "If you don't, we will."
    "What?" He scowled darkly.
    "Clayton, what's wrong?" Leslie said, coming up behind him. "Kelly? What are you—"
    "She sneaked out of the house and went to them," Clayton explained quickly. "Obviously they have told her who they are."
    "Oh, no." Leslie grimaced. "Kelly, dear, you must not be upset. There are many children who have been adopted, and that doesn't mean their parents love them less."
    "She's upset, all right," Jimmy said. "And it's not just because she's found out she was adopted." He turned and glared daggers at Clayton. "I think we had better discuss what's really upset her," he fired, his words forcing Clayton to retreat a step.
    "Now see here," Clayton began. "If you think you can come here and threaten us with—"
    "Let them come in, Clayton," Leslie said. "It's stupid to argue on the doorstep, and Kelly should be getting ready for bed. Did she have anything to eat?" she asked me.
    "Food isn't our concern right now, Mrs. Osborne," I said, standing as firmly as a rooted tree.
    "Oh, I see. Clayton, let's bring everyone inside. Please. There's no reason we can't behave in a civilized manner and settle any questions."
    Reluctantly, Clayton backed away, and we all entered. "Do you want to sit down?" Leslie asked when we entered the living room.
    "I think we'll stand," I said. Clayton, as if to show his defiance, strolled past us and sat down. He glared at us and especially sent looks of fury toward Fern. She held on to Jimmy's hand as if for dear life and kept her body snugly against me.
    "All right," Clayton said, his hands palms down on his legs, "what's this all about?"
    "This is about the abuse of my sister," Jimmy said firmly.
    "Abuse?" Clayton's lips moved into a grotesque mockery of a smile, the kind of cold smile that sent shivers down my spine. "No question we've abused her, especially if you call spending hundreds of dollars on piano lessons for her, only to find out she never practiced, abuse. Especially if you call spending hundreds of dollars on tutors to get her to do at least what is basic, only to discover she doesn't do her homework, abuse. Abuse?" he snapped, his eyes widening maddeningly. "Yes, especially if you consider how many expensive summer camps she's attended and politely been asked to leave. Especially if you go up and look at the closets and closets full of expensive clothing, some of which she has never worn. Go look at the mountains of records, the cartons of dolls, the stereo, the radio . . . go on, go look at all the abuse!"
    Silence draped the room for a moment. Even Leslie looked astounded by Clayton's emotional outburst. He sucked in his breath and looked away, his face scarlet.
    "We're not talking about those sort of things," Jimmy said calmly. "We know you've provided well for her."
    "Then what the hell are you talking about?" Clayton shouted.
    "We're talking about the sexual abuse," Jimmy pronounced, undaunted. For a moment it was as if thunder had clapped at the ceiling of the room. My ears rang with the deadly aftermath of Jimmy's accusation. Clayton Osborne's mouth