Brody shakes his head, looking lost for a moment. “Rich folks don’t die like that, do they, Ms. Masters? I’ll bet all your people died on clean white sheets, surrounded by nurses.”

I’m stunned to see sympathy in Caitlin’s face. Reflexive guilt over her privileged background? How can she possibly feel guilt when facing a monster?

“But I don’t think you’re going to die that way,” Brody says, his voice suddenly brittle. “Not unless you start talking right now. No clean white sheets for you. No painless passing. Just everlasting fire, like Albert Norris got.”

“I know you’re upset,” Caitlin says carefully. “I’m sure you blame me for what your daughter did. I can understand that. But she needs you now. When I talked to her …” Caitlin trails off when she sees the glacial coldness in Royal’s eyes.

“Tell her, Randall.”

“Katy’s dead, you stupid bitch.”

Caitlin whips her head back toward Royal.

“She died twenty minutes after your fiancé left the hospital,” says the old man.

Even as Caitlin says, “I’m sorry,” the timing of Royal’s daughter’s demise strikes me as highly improbable.

“You killed her,” I say softly, my eyes boring into his.

“You left me no choice. It was a mercy, in a way. Especially for Randall.”

Regan looks at me like a man who has had a crippling burden lifted from his shoulders. Undoubtedly he did the deed himself.

Brody looks hard at Caitlin, who appears horrified by the ultimate consequences of her interview with Katy Royal. “I don’t need your apologies, Ms. Masters. All I need from you is a name.”

Caitlin’s eyes flick back and forth like those of a trapped animal. She’s where I was a few minutes ago. Make up a name and pay the price for lying? Or give Royal a real name and possibly trigger someone’s death? Is there even any point to stalling? John Kaiser seems our only possible deliverance, but without Walker Dennis leading him to Royal … why would he show up?

“Randall, I think it’s time you show Ms. Masters that we’re not playing games here.”

“About time,” Regan says, setting his computer aside and getting to his feet with his cigarette clamped between his teeth.

I start toward Caitlin to protect her, but instead of moving toward her, Regan walks straight to me, spreads his hands wide, and claps them over my ears with stunning force. Though I see the blow coming, my taped hands give me no chance to block it. The simultaneous concussions stun me like nails driven through my eardrums, scrambling all thought.

I hit the floor even before I realize I’m falling.