She doubted her mother was there at all. She was probably grieving for the child she had actually loved. Her uncle might be around. She knew how much that he had wished that she were stronger. Then she thought of her friends, if they still were in that category. She had become the psychopath everyone had thought she was when Keith had been dared to talk to on that one fateful afternoon. She had almost begun to believe that life would get better. He was probably at home right now, thanking his lucky stars that he had discovered the truth about Pat before it was too late. About then, one of Pat’s headaches arrived, gnawing into the part of the brain right behind her eyes with vicious teeth and causing the blood in her temples to beat with an unholy rhythm. She tried to block it all out, squeezing her fists and her eyelids, trying to banish the pain back into the darkness that had sent it. She heard a distant beeping grow louder . . . the kind of beeping that accompanied a thin green. Lonnie Carmel still adored and worshipped her husband, and as long as she thought she could keep her sinful capitulations from him, she would do any thing to save what little there was left of her marriage and home; to learn that her beloved Roger was the true target could very well make her change about and warn her husband, sacrificing herself in his interests. On the other side of the coin, allowing Carmel's wife to know that he'd been unfaithful, either now or after the pictures of him and the Copeland whore were developed, might well turn her against her husband in a fury of anger, spite, and jealousy, and she would tell all. That would spell disaster, Zeigler had thought as he drove, for the holds over the Carmels depended that the wife and daughter didn't know what the husband was doing -- and vice versa.Yes, he'd just have to be patient. The day would come for the confrontation -- after Roger Carmel handed over his invention -- and then there wouldn't be any more reason not.
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