Divine Evil

don't know. I can't remember. I was running. I lost my light, my flashlight.” Her hand jumped. “I hit him with it, and I ran. They'd rape me, I thought. They'd rape me, and so I ran. It was so dark in the woods. I couldn't see. From behind me-I fell. He was on top of me. Oh, God, my leg. My knee. It hurt. Roy… ”
    “Right here, baby.”
    “It hurt. I smelled blood.
My
blood. I saw his eyes. He was going to kill me. He was singing, and he was going to kill me. He was choking me, and I couldn't breathe. I was dying. But I got away. There were more of them coming, and I ran. My leg hurt so bad. I knew I couldn't run much farther and they'd catch up to me. Find me. There was a light. I had to get to the light. Someone was screaming. Your car.” She looked back at Clare.
    “My headlights,” Clare told her. “I hit you with my car.”
    “No, I ran to the car. I was afraid you'd drive away, and they were coming after me. So I ran in front of it to stop you. It knocked me down. You got me into your car. You got me away.”
    “Lisa.” Cam kept his voice very low. “Did you see the man who attacked you?”
    “Black.”
    “A black man?”
    “No, I don't-I don't think so. He wore black. Long black robe and a hood. His eyes. I saw his eyes.”
    “Anything else? The color of his hair, the shape of his face, his voice?”
    “Just his eyes. I thought I was looking into hell.” She began to weep then, covering her unbandaged eye.
    “We'll leave it at that for now.” Cam had already overrun the time the doctor had given him. “I'll come back tomorrow. If you remember anything else, anything at all, you just have to call me.”
    “Please.” She tightened her grip on Clare's hand. “I want to thank you. I'll always remember looking up and seeing your face. It's going to help me. Will you come back?” Sure.
    Clare's legs were watery as she walked out. She paused on the other side of the door to press her hands to her face and steady herself.
    “Come on, Slim, let me get you a chair.”
    “I'm all right. Can you tell me how she is, physically?”
    “Her cornea's scratched. They don't think there'll be any permanent damage, but it's a little early to say. Couple of ribs are bruised and her throat. It's going to be painful for her to talk over the next few days.”
    “Her leg.” She noted that he was avoiding speaking of it. “How bad?”
    “They don't know.”
    “Are you going to give me any trouble about seeing her?” “That'll be for the doctor to say.”
    “Excuse me.” Roy closed the door at his back. “Miss Kimball… I owe you an apology.”
    “No, you don't. I have a brother. Under similar circumstances, I think he'd react the same way. I'd like to leave my number at the nurses′ station. You can call whenever she'd like to see me.”
    “Thank you.” He turned to Cam. “I want to know every step of what you're doing, Sheriff. I want to know that whoever did this to my sister is going to pay.” He stepped back into the room and closed the door.
    “I have some things to tie up.” Cam resisted the urge to rub at the headache that pounded in his temple. “Are you going to be all right?”
    “I'll be fine.”
    “I may need to talk to you again. Officially.”
    She nodded. “You know where to find me. Sheriff.” She walked away, leaving him standing alone.

Chapter 17
    S ALLY SIMMONS PULLED INTO the Amoco station, but she wasn't really interested in a fill-up and oil check. She was interested in Ernie Butts. It was an interest that often left her ashamed and confused. And excited.
    In all the weeks that she had gone with Josh, she had only allowed him to touch her above the waist. Though she had let him take her shirt all the way off, even permitted him to close his hot, fumbling mouth over her breasts, she had cut things off each and every time his hands had wandered below the snap of her jeans.
    It wasn't that she was a nerd or anything, and she knew that many of the other girls on the cheerleading squad had already done the big deed. But she was romantic, like the novels she read, and had always pictured herself falling wildly and uncontrollably in love with someone exciting, rebellious, and probably unsuitable.
    Ernie filled all the requirements.
    He was even sort of spookily good-looking and brooding, the way Sally had always pictured Heathcliff, her favorite tragic hero. The fact that she sensed a mean streakin him only added to the mystique. It had been a simple matter to