I don’t know what to tell, Rose thought. I haven’t accomplished what I set out to do. All I have is the bad taste of something like a curse. A far distant feeling of a dread that will go on.

“Good-bye, Miss Mackey,” Jerram said.

Once they were across the bridge and into the woods, Rose had to sit down. “You’re feeling better,” Jerram observed. “You’re smiling.”

“Am I? How odd. I don’t feel like smiling. I feel so serious inside. I think I learned something very important, something about death and life. Two sides of the same coin. I’m not afraid to die. But there’s something I think I should fear. I just can’t remember what it is.”

He frowned. “Well, unfortunately you didn’t come back with a composite sketch of the killer, so he’s the same threat he was before all this.” He added hesitantly. “She … Carla … did she give you some message for me?”

“I’m sorry, Jerram.”

He shrugged. “It was just a thought. Maybe you don’t find death anything to be afraid of now, but Carla and the rest of the girls, they didn’t have to die that way. They must have been frightened.”

“Let me think about it. I might remember something. I have a feeling at the back of my mind that I know. It keeps teasing me. I just need some time.”

“Take all the time you need,” he said. “Only make sure it doesn’t take too long.”

Rose felt sad. Jerram felt helpless and still jealous. He wanted to be the one to avenge Carla. He had counted on her coming back with the answers. He really wasn’t very different from Miss Mackey. Both of them were concerned about someone they loved. How could you blame them for that?

Part Seven

Him

Sometimes i like to sit in the dark and tell myself Christmas stories. ’Twas the days before Christmas and all through the house, not a body was stirring not even a corpse.

Christmas. Why is everyone always so happy? My Christmas story is not happy. Long ago, mothertimes, I was happy. Don’t look at the presents, Mother said. Don’t peek. But small boys like to peek. Just a glimpse of the goodies reassures them.

Don’t look, Mother said, I mean it. Small boys peek anyway. They can’t resist. Small boys are bad and deserve to be punished.

Mother punished. Tied the boy up in the dark cellar where things run on the floor and snuffle in corners.

Mother brings the puppy down to the cellar in a silver box tied with red ribbons. This is what happens to boys who peek, Mother says. Their Christmas presents die.

The small boy looks at the small dog body lying in tissue, small dog eyes staring. Mother leaves them in the cellar together so they can meditate on their sins.