The Lesson of Her Death

preacher. “Did you know that while that buffoon of a deputy was supposed to be guarding the old homestead, I was browning through your bedroom? I opened your dresser and rearranged Diane’s panties. I smelled her pillow. I washed my hands with her cheap L’Air du Lis soap. Oh, I sat on Sarah’s bed. I caressed your son’s pajamas. It was all so fascinating to me! I lecture—excuse me, I used to lecture—about psychology every day. I’ve written articles for the most prestigious journals in the field, journals …” He cocked an eyebrow with amusement. “… that perhaps you’ve tried to read. But I don’t do clinical practice. Toying with your family has amused me greatly. Entwining them in this whole matter. I drew you away from the nest. I sent you to Lewisboro. I sold a handful of credit cards to this polyester thug in a bar in Fitzberg so you’d hightail it over there. Then I circled back. I followed that fool Breck—” Gilchrist sneered the name. “—and I killed him deader than Dreiser’s prose. I did all that, Detective, right under your nose and I escaped.”
    “But,” Corde said, “here I am.”
    The smile on the professor’s face did not diminish. “But
I
… have your daughter.”
    “I want to know where she is!” Corde shouted in anguish.
    “Stating the obvious,” Gilchrist snorted, “diminishes you, as a late colleague of mine used to say.”
    Sarah, cry for me, baby! Shout, scream
.…
    “You son of a bitch!” The menace in Corde’s voice rose to the distant smudged ceiling. It seemed to break the shafts of weak light that fell onto the bloodred carpet.Corde pressed his revolver forward and the hammer actually started back. Gilchrist’s eyes registered an instant of monumental fear then became calm and conciliatory. He lifted a palm. “She’s all right. I swear it.”
    “Where is she?”
    Gilchrist’s eyes swept over him. The smile had faded. He was now composed and his face was a mask of concern. “I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry.”
    “If you’ve hurt her—” Corde stepped forward, his hand kneading the gun.
    “She’s fine,” Gilchrist said in a soothing voice. “Think, Detective. Why would I hurt her? I kidnapped her because I needed some insurance. I couldn’t stop you any other way.” He spread his hands out in front of him. “Look … You found out where I was. I had to protect myself.”
    “I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me what you’ve done with her.” He stifled a spiny urge to fire a bullet into Gilchrist’s leg or elbow.
    The professor’s voice was suavely reassuring. “I haven’t done anything with her. She’s safe.” He nodded at his suitcase. “As long as I get out of here she’ll be fine. If you hurt me or arrest me you’ll never see her again. It’s as simple as that.”
    Corde stepped forward and held the gun close to Gilchrist’s face. “Where is she?” he cried.
    Gilchrist stepped back. “Those are my terms. There’s no negotiation. My freedom for your daughter. Take it or leave it.”
    “You bastard, you damn bastard,” Corde growled.
    “That’s perhaps true in one context or another but it’s irrelevant at this moment.”
    The muzzle of the pistol lowered.
    Corde’s breathing calmed. At least Sarah was alive. At least he had a chance of getting her back home safe. He had a poignant image of the girl sitting in bed, wearing her pajamas and talking to a stuffed bear. Tears saturated his eyes.
    “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” Gilchrist offered. “Let’sup the ante. In exchange for my head start I’ll tell you where your daughter is
and
I’ll give you an explanation. I’ll tell you exactly how I killed Jennie and why.”
    Corde squinted slightly and somewhere in his mind the policeman stepped side by side with the father.
    Gilchrist took the uneasy caution in Corde’s eyes as an affirmative answer. He sat down in an armchair, launching motes of dust into the sallow light.
    “I loved Jennifer Gebben very much. The first time I’ve ever felt that way about a woman. Ridiculous, when you think about it. She was a simple girl. She wasn’t particularly pretty. She vacillated between intense and moody. But when she was with you, in bed, she was completely
with
you. Do you understand what I’m saying? She was the center of the universe. We’d play our games, we’d take our hickory sticks, we’d get out the straps. A lot of women just tolerate it for their man—the remote father