Still, Claire's name had stimulated him. I needed more time with him, knew I wouldn't get much.

Keep going.

One T.D.,two...

I whispered: "The Ardullos."

No change.

"The Ardullos-Scott Ardullo, Terri-"Yes, yes, yes there it was: the eyelid tic, faster than before, much faster, a churning of the lids as if the eyeballs were rotating at jet speed.

"Terri and Scott Ardullo," I said.

The eyes opened. Alive now.

Fixed on mine.

Awake.

Clear intent. To do what?

He stared at me. Didn't move at all.

Paying close attention? To me.

Success, but I felt as if a scorpion were cakewalking along my spine.

I checked his hands. Those hands. Both knotted in the sheets.

Keep a look out for sudden movement.

"Scott and Terri Ardullo," I said.

The stare.

"Scott and Terri. Brittany and Justin."

The stare.

"Brittany and Justin."

He blinked. Once, twice, six times, twenty, forty-eyelid convulsions, which wouldn't-or couldn't-cease.

Metronomic, hypnotic. I felt myself being drawn in. Avoid that, watch his hands....

His arms rose again. Fear stabbed me and I stood up quickly, backed away.

He didn't seem to notice.

Stood, himself.

Unsteadily, but managing to remain upright. Stronger than he'd appeared out in the hallway, in Heidi's grasp.

Still staring. Hot stare. Hands curling slowly into fists.

Straightening his spine.

Stepping toward me.

Okay, you ve done it, Delaware. Success!

He moved another step closer. I braced myself, plotted my defense. How much damage could he do, unarmed, so thin, so feeble?

Another step. His arms reached out, inviting embrace.

I retreated toward the door.

His mouth opened, contorted-no tongue-thrusts, just the excruciating labor of the lipless orifice struggling to change form, fighting to talk or scream ... working so hard, working working-

Suddenly, a shrill, dry sound escaped. Soft, wispy, echoing- soft, but it pounded my ears-

His arms began to climb again, very slowly. When they were parallel with his shoulders, they flapped. Birdlike. Not a bird of prey, something thin, deliberate, delicate-a crane.

Without warning, he turned his back on me and hobbled- still flapping, miming flight-to the far corner of the room.

Pressing his back to the wall, keeping the arms stretched. Head tilted to the right.

Above him, the metal restraint hooks embedded in the wall hovered like warnings.

Eyes still open-wide open-stretched open; I could see wet pink borders all around. Wet eyes. Tears welling, overflowing, streaming down sunken cheeks.

His left leg crossed over its mate so that he was standing on one leg.

More avian posturing-no, no, something else-Posing.

Unmistakable pose.

His body had formed a cross.

Crucifixion on an unseen scaffold.

Tears flooded his face. Uncontrollable, silent sobs, brutally paroxysmic, each gush seizing ownership of his fragile body and shaking it like a wet kitten.

Weeping Jesus.

Chapter 29

He stayed that way, just stayed that way.

How long had I been in there? Surely Dollard, hostile and impatient, would be returning soon and ordering me out.

Five minutes later, it hadn't happened.