His work would continue, with priority on the article he'd been meaning to write, From the Inside: The Life of a Reluctant Pedophile. Of course, this he would publish post-mortem, which without treatment awaited him in only a few months. Perhaps thanks to his training, he’d find no challenge in pushing his fate from his mind.

What proved more difficult to forget was Patient Nem's words—and the way she’d looked into his eyes as she said them. Something was wrong with that girl. Something completely wrong and frightening.

“You'll receive your due in correct proportions. That's how this works.”

Prophetic words? Or a lucky guess?

He turned the key in the ignition and checked his side mirror as he reversed. So many thoughts traveled through his mind. This moment began the rest of his existence. A new life to be lived as best he could. His time remaining may be short but he’d attempt to right his wrongs. While his health was good, he’d use any spare time in pursuit of this endeavor. He’d find the kids he'd harmed, every one of them, and apologize.

Maybe if he made good, like in those fantasy films, the disease might disappear as suddenly as it appeared. He felt uplifted at the thought and a silly idea entered his head.

Would patient Nem forgive him?

She was the person he needed to appease most, despite never having touched her. Even as his scientific mind rebelled against the concept of another human being controlling life and death, he knew the truth. He recalled her smile as she discussed Alan West’s fate. A Mona Lisa smile, he’d thought at the time, revealing little.

Dr. Ken Shepherd’s answer to his question of forgiveness became crystal clear.

Patient Nem, whoever or whatever she was, most definitely wasn’t in the business of forgiveness.

20

William moved into the bookstore area holding the newspaper halfway over his face as he kept a constant check on the door for Morris’ or Orelia’s entry. They’d never believe him being in this store at the exact time of her appearance as a coincidence.

He found himself in a book aisle before he’d stopped to consider whether entering here was the wisest of moves. As he maneuvered behind a bookshelf, the pair entered the store.

William ducked down to sit on his haunches and pretended to examine the back cover of a book he’d pulled from the bottom shelf. This seemed a good strategy. He continued to stoop and weave until he’d moved to be behind the shelf nearest the large square counter. Here he waited and anticipated the joy of seeing, or at least hearing, the results of his little scheme.

Even though he couldn’t risk looking up and over, it wasn’t necessary. For within five minutes he heard Morris’ voice, loud and clear. The agent did not sound happy.

“I keep telling you but you’re not listening. Nobody canceled the reading. When did I supposedly call?”

A young female voice replied. “I’m sorry Mr. Usher but I didn’t take the call, so I don’t know.”