Der Schädelring: Thriller (German Edition)

hand as if possessing a gravity of its own. Then the ring was on her finger, its heat expanding through her in orange radiant waves. Words popped into her head, spoken in the guttural voice of a madman: "With this ring, I thee wed."
    She wrestled the ring free and flung it into her purse. Her ears rang as the blood rushed from her head. She bent over, fighting a surge of nausea. The walls closed in, as sinister as the sides of a living coffin.
    Breathe, Julia.
    Count.
    Just the way Dr. Forrest taught you.
    She started, concentrating on each number, picturing the numerals as crystal clear shapes, and their edges softened as she mentally melted them. Ten was the tough one, because it fought and squirmed, wanted to slip away before she could pin it down. Nine came and went a little more slowly. By the count of eight, she thought she could breathe again. Seven, six, and she would survive.
    Five, and she could open her eyes, focusing only on the deep cleansing breath and the exhalation that carried away the fear. Four, three, now more slowly, two, and she almost yawned. Then one , the end, relaxation, an effective enough self-hypnosis that she could clearly think about the things Dr. Forrest had advised.
    Bring it out. Let the pain surface. Face the nightmares. Don't surrender.
    But maybe surrender was better. She could crawl into the cellar of her head, put her hands over her eyes, and wait.
    Wait for what?
    For Daddy to come out of the shadows, in his hooded robe and wearing his skull ring, the knife cold and cruel in his hand?
    She shuddered herself back to the present and found herself gazing at the blank screen of her computer. She flipped on the power and the screen burst into brightness. The computer ran through its loading commands and the screen saver came up, a field of deep red.
    In the middle, in letters as white as corpses:
    He owns you, Jooolia.
    She jabbed the computer's power switch with her index finger, half expecting a tremendous bolt of electricity to leap from the machine. She grabbed her purse and hurried into the hall, nearly knocking down an advertising rep. The rep called after her, but she staggered from the building into the gray morning. The parking lot was like water, something to be waded through.
    If only I can make it to Dr. Forrest's.
    She struggled into the Subaru and drove to the therapist's office without running off the road, though several drivers honked at her. An Elkwood police patrol car was parked by the office door, gleaming even though the sun was veiled. The secretary ushered Julia through, telling her that the doctor was expecting her. Julia glanced at her watch and saw that it was only a few minutes after nine.
    She knocked on Dr. Forrest's door.
    "Come in, Julia," came the therapist's muffled voice.
    Julia entered to see Dr. Forrest standing beside the window with a tall, thin man who smiled at her. In a tweed jacket and wearing no sidearm, he could have passed for an English professor. His face was creased from age, but his dark hair had only the slightest touch of gray. The cop's eyes were cold and dark.
    Dr. Forrest said, "Julia, this is Chief T.L. Snead."
    Snead.
    Julia swayed as if the floor had been yanked from underneath her. She recognized him now, an aged version of the cop in the old newspaper photographs.
    This was Snead, the man she had built into a monster in her own mind. Here she was, face to face with the man who she believed might have covered up Satanic murders, who had failed to solve her father's disappearance, who had tracked her from Memphis to this small Blue Ridge town.
    Snead extended his hand in greeting, and she saw that the tip of his pinkie was missing, the stump healed to red scar tissue. She backed away.
    "So you're Julia," Snead said, with no hint of emotion. "I always wondered what kind of woman you would grow into."
    "What are you doing here?"
    "I decided to take over this case myself," Snead said. "Invasion of privacy is such a terrible offense, as I'm sure you know firsthand. I want to make sure the right person is convicted."
    Julia's anger momentarily overwhelmed her fear and confusion. "What do you mean, the right person? They arrested that guy last night. You have statements from both Walter Triplett and me."
    "The suspect tells a different story. He says Mr. Triplett was the one who was inside your house."
    "And you believe him?" Julia looked to Dr. Forrest for help, but the therapist crossed her arms and said nothing. “That Creep