The Door to December

least the child hadn't been subjected to that indignity. Then he remembered what indignities she had endured, and his smile quickly died.
     He let go of Regine's face but stayed beside her on the couch. Gradually fading red spots marked where his fingers had pressed into her tender skin. 'Regine, you said you hadn't seen Willy in more than a year. Why?'
     She lowered her eyes, bent her neck. Her shoulders softened even more, and she slumped further into the corner of the sofa.
     'Why?' he repeated.
     'Willy ... got tired of me.'
     That she should care so much about Willy made Dan ill.
     'He didn't want me any more,' she said in a tone of voice more suited to announcing imminent death from cancer. Willy not wanting her any more was clearly the worst, most devastating development that she could imagine. 'I did everything, anything, but nothing was enough ...'
     'He just broke it off, cold?'
     'I never saw him after he ... sent me away. But we talked on the phone now and then. We had to.'
     'Had to talk on the phone? About what?'
     Almost whispering: 'About the others he sent around to see me.'
     'What others?'
     'His friends. The other ... men.'
     'He sent men to you?'
     'Yes.'
     'For sex?'
     'For sex. For anything they wanted. I do anything they want. For Willy.'
     Dan's mental image of the late Wilhelm Hoffritz was growing more monstrous by the minute. The man had been a viper.
     He not only brainwashed and established control of Regine for his own sexual gratification, but even after he no longer wanted her, he continued to control her and abuse her secondhand. Apparently, the mere fact that she continued to be abused, even beyond his sight, gratified him sufficiently to maintain an iron grip on her tortured mind. He had been a singularly sick man. Worse than sick: demented.
     Regine raised her head and said, not without enthusiasm, 'Do you want me to tell you some of the things they made me do?'
     Dan stared at her, speechless with revulsion.
     'I don't mind telling you,' she assured him. 'You might enjoy hearing. I didn't mind doing those things, and I don't mind telling you exactly what I did.'
     'No,' he said hoarsely.
     'You might like to hear.'
     'No.'
     She giggled softly. 'It might give you some ideas.'
     'Shut up!' he said, and he nearly slapped her.
     She bowed her head as if she were a dog that had been cowed by a scolding master.
     He said, 'The men Hoffritz sent to you — who were they?'
     'I only know their first names. One of them was Andy, and you've told me his last name was Cooper. Another one was Joe.'
     'Scaldone? Who else?'
     'Howard, Shelby ... Eddie.'
     'Eddie who?'
     'I told you, I don't know their last names.'
     'How often did they come?'
     'Most of them... once or twice a week.'
     'They still come here?'
     'Oh, sure. I'm what they need. There was only one guy who came once and never came back.'
     'What was his name?'
     'Albert.'
     'Albert Uhlander?'
     'I don't know.'
     'What did he look like?'
     'Tall, thin, with a ... bony face. I don't know how else to describe him. I guess you'd say he sort of looked like a hawk ... hawkish ... sharp features.'
     Dan had not looked at the author's photograph on the books now in the trunk of his car, but he intended to do so when he left Regine.
     He said, 'Albert, Howard, Shelby, Eddie ... anybody else?'
     'Well, like I said, Andy and Joe. But they're dead now, huh?'
     'Very.'
     'And there's one other man. He comes by all the time, but I don't even know his first name.'
     'What's he look like?'
     'About six-foot, distinguished. Beautiful white hair. Beautiful clothes. Not handsome, you know, but elegant. He carries himself so well, and he speaks very well. He's ... cultured. I like him. He hurts me so ... beautifully.'
     Dan took a deep breath. 'If you don't even know his first name, what do you call him?'
     She grinned. 'Oh, there's only one thing he wants me to call him.' She looked mischievous, winked at Dan. 'Daddy.'
     'What?'
     'I call him Daddy. Always. I pretend he's my daddy, see, and he pretends I'm really his daughter,