Ludwig and Señor Alfonso took turns coming out of the restaurant to hear the story. They were the ones who had first noticed the fracas, called 9-1-1 and begun the battle to bring down the door. “I would have shot the lock,” Ludwig told Deputy Dave, “but I feared the bullet would strike someone within. After I almost broke my shoulder, Alfonso and I took turns with the meat mallet.”

Deputy Dave had clapped Ludwig on the shoulder. “You did the right thing.” He knelt before Elle and Clarice. He held his phone out, and with their permission, it was set on Record. “Please give us the details, everything you remember.”

Elle wasn’t so much talking to him as to Clarice. “The name I know her by is Zsóke. She’s Stephen Penderghast’s assistant—Stephen Penderghast is the guy who gave me the bruises—and until I got my memory back, I didn’t know her. But trust me, she’s one scary woman.”

Clarice looked grim. “I found that out one night on the roof. Faith, or whoever she is, had given me homework, thoughts about the role she wanted me to work out. I wrapped up warm, went up top, stretched out on a chaise, and stared at the stars hoping in the quiet of the evening to work it out in my head.”

“Go on,” Deputy Dave encouraged her.

“She came out and made a call. She called the person on the other end darling, and I figured it was going to be a loving conversation. I intended to keep quiet so when she left I’d be up there alone again. Which was my big mistake. I overheard that she intended to kill you.” Clarice took Elle’s hand in hers.

Her fingers were icy, and Elle exclaimed and used her other hands to chafe them.

“I must have made a sound, and once she realized I knew, that was it. She threatened me. She intimidated me.”

“How did she intimidate you?” Deputy Dave asked.

“She moved into my bedroom, locked us in every night, took my bed while I slept on the floor. She twisted my arm so hard my elbow and wrist were swollen, and my shoulder ached so much I cried. To teach me to be quiet, she slid the tip of her knife under my fingernail.” Clarice held up her other hand, the one she had resting in her lap.

Elle looked in horror.

Not one but three fingers were bloody under the nail, and the hand itself was swollen and had a bluish tinge.

Sarcha toppled over onto his butt. “We thought she was strict, but we never imagined... We thought you were doing what she said because it was your choice!”

Gregoire stayed in his squat, but his voice shook when he said, “We didn’t know. I wish you’d told us. We would have helped you!”