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on them, put them out of their misery."
She clutched her stomach, doubling over and fighting the urge to vomit. When she got it under control,
she tried to straighten again. "How m-many?" Tears were flowing from her eyes now, she could barely
see, despite the lights he had strung through the place, trouble lights like they used on construction sites.
He smiled slowly. "Oh, many. Lots and lots of them." He drew a breath, sighed. "Come on, my love. I
promise, nothing so unpleasant is going to happen to you."
He slid his arm around her shoulders. She shivered, wondering what he would do to her now.
"I& won't tell your secret, darling. I would wish things were different. I would ask that you stop this and
let them go, but I would never betray you."
"No, of course you wouldn't. Not to your mother, nor your priest. Good Christian that you are. You'll
stay with me, continue loving me, though you think me a rapist and murderer."
The trapdoor was open as he led her up the stairs. Somewhere down deep inside her, Kiley thought that
was odd. It had been closed before. Somehow, she was aware that she and Jack were being used as
puppets, as the play unfurled again. And she wondered how far it would go.
But then the other overtook her again. Behind her she could hear the moans and weeping, pleading
voices. "Get away from him. Run. Tell someone!"
Ahead of her, she saw light. Her husband yanked the plug from the wall, and the trouble lights went
black. The women sobbed, growing hysterical as they were plunged into darkness, but he didn't care. He
slammed the steel door down again, never releasing the death grip he had on her arm.
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"You're hurting me."
"Not for much longer, love. I promise. Come along now." He took her up the stairs. She felt his grip on
her arm relax and she pulled free, racing as fast as she could through the house, toward the door. But he
beat her there, blocking her escape. Turning, her heart pounding in her chest, she ran upstairs, seeking
the safety of a room with a door she could bolt against him, and a telephone. She went into the bedroom,
pushing the door shut.
He slammed into it, but she braced with all her strength, then slid the bolt home. Slowly, she backed
away. But he was pounding the door, howling with rage. Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Stay away!" she cried, grabbing the telephone, dialing O.
The door crashed open, and he surged toward her. She heard the line ringing, but he was too close. She
dropped the phone, racing into the bathroom and slamming the door.
He kicked it in so fast and hard it hit her full in the chest, knocking her off balance, and she hit the floor.
Her head cracked against the porcelain tub. And then it swam. She was dizzy, darkness creeping in
around the edges of her vision.
"There, now. You won't die dirty, buried alive, as they do. No, nothing so horrible for my lady." He
smiled down at her as he bent over her. "And you've already run the water. That was thoughtful of you."
He picked her up, lowered her into the bathtub. His palm to her face, he pushed it beneath the water.
She wouldn't breathe! Her arms flailed, legs kicked, but he held firm. And then the water rushed into her
lungs. It was gentle, cleansing, soothing. Her body calmed, relaxed. And darkness crept over her.
And then she was standing there, in the bathroom, watching him. He was still leaning over the tub, she
realized, puzzled. Then she looked past him and saw her own face in the water.
"He's killed you," a woman said. "He killed us, too."
Sharonturned and saw them. Women, beautiful women, all around her. So many faces and soulful eyes.
"I'm so sorry," she said.
"We have to tell someone. He'll keep on doing it until we make someone stop him."
She nodded and turned to look at her husband again.
He was sitting on the floor beside the tub, his head lowered, sobbing.
And then he wasn't her husband, and they weren't in the bathroom. He was Jack McCain, sitting on the
bottom steps in the hidden basement bunker, his head in his hands.
Kiley went to him, knelt in front of him. "Jack, it's okay. It's okay, it wasn't real."
He lifted his head slowly, blinked the confusion from his eyes. "Kiley?"
She nodded, and he pressed her face between his palms, pulled her to his face, kissed her lips over and
over. "Jesus, you're okay. I thought I I thought I'd "
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"I'm okay. So are you, and you're not Phillip Miller. You're Jack. All that was I don't know, it was&
it was someone else. It was the past coming in. Sharon Miller reliving it through us, so we'd finally
understand."
He nodded, holding her closer.
"It wasn't real, Jack," she told him.
"You're right about everything but that." He brought his head up, looking past her, into the darkness. "It
was very real."
She turned to follow his gaze, and she saw them. Faint wisps in the shapes of women. Some were more
defined than others, mists shaping into faces and limbs and hands. Others were just vague shapes,
silhouettes of light in the darkness. "God, there are so many of them," she whispered. "But there were
only four in the room."
Jack rose, clasping her shoulder. "They're buried in the back lawn."
She closed her eyes. "Oh, God."
"It gets worse," he said softly. "He's still doing it."
Her head came up fast. "What?"
"Phillip Miller isn't dead, Kiley. He's alive and well and living not far from here. And he's still murdering
women."
And then she remembered. "The missing prostitutes fromAlbany . Oh, my God, Jack! We have to get
out of here, we have to stop him and "
There was a groaning sound, and a powerful crash, followed by light spilling in from behind. The
trapdoor lay open, the way to the cellar clear.
Kiley met Jack's eyes. "I am so sorry I ever called you a fraud, Jack. You're you're so amazing it's
scary."
He shook his head slowly. "Remind me to tell you later why you're dead wrong about that."
She frowned at him. But then she turned to look back at those shapes, the spirits of women, all of them.
"It's over. We'll stop him. We promise. And then you can rest in peace."
EPILOGUE
Kiley's entire house was surrounded in yellow police tape. Police cars, SUVs and vans lined the street,
and heavy equipment growled and belched in the back yard. News crews were everywhere, but Kiley
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