Chapter LXXXV
CHAPTER LXXXV
The vertical roller door of Zetta Nadeau’s studio was closed to within a foot of the ground as Seeley and Matías reached it. Soft light spilled through the gap but no noise came from inside. The two men stayed back, because to step into the light would risk being shot in the lower legs by whoever was in the studio, whether that was the woman alone or she and Riggins both.
“Ms. Nadeau,” said Seeley. “We only want the child. If you have it, give it to us and we’ll be gone. We have no quarrel with you.”
The only voice that responded came from the shadows nearby.
“But you may have a quarrel with us.”
Seeley turned his gun toward the sound, searching for movement.
“And who are you?” he asked.
“My name is Parker. I’m a private investigator. Ms. Nadeau is my client.”
“I repeat: we want the child. We won’t leave without it.”
“You have three guns on you,” I said. “If we tell you to leave, you’ll leave.”
“But only to return, Mr. Parker. This can’t end until the child is surrendered. I think you know that.”
The sound of the garage mechanism broke the standoff. Gradually the door rose to reveal the studio and what it contained: Zetta Nadeau, standing by the clawed throne she’d created, and seated upon it, the hunched, mummified body of a female child.
Zetta’s eyes shone unnaturally bright but lifeless, like glass.
“See,” said Zetta, “I’ve humanized my art.”
And for a time, the only sound was her laughter.