Chapter 25 #2
I bark a laugh. “Imagine that.”
“You asked why I did it. It wasn’t about money.
It was about revenge. He recognized me at the party.
At Barbara’s. Then he discovered that you and I were lovers.
That we were living together. He’s been following us ever since.
But I didn’t know he was the killer. Not until last week.
I put things together when I saw the vials of blood in his armoire.
Lionel always had a cruel streak. A curiosity around morbid things.
But I never imagined it would go so far. ”
I look up at her as we make the final three steps into the attic.
Darkness surrounds us, but I can see the gleam of her eyes in the shadows.
She reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry it came to this.
But he asked me to kill you. He paid me a great deal of money to do so because he was afraid.
The last victim—the young woman from Florida, Sophie, I believe—she didn’t die right away.
She remained conscious long enough to tell a guardsman that Broadbent accompanied her into the gardens at the ball on Daniel Island, then simply watched as another man—his hired man—attacked her.
She described the event in detail before she expired.
Sophie was the first of his victims who didn’t know him.
Most of the victims were his patients. They trusted him.
He’d lure them somewhere alone, or send them out to meet a friend, and then set his man on them like a dog. ”
We know about the six women who have died by his machinations. Seven, including my sister. How many more have died in secret, of so-called natural causes, over the years? He’s had access. Time. Medications. The thought sickens me.
“I had my reasons for continuing the deception,” Kate says.
“I let him believe I regretted leaving him. That I wanted to reconcile. I can play the submissive damsel when it suits me. His ardor for me . . . was undiminished.” She sighs in the darkness.
“I knew he was here, in Charleston, looking for me, just as my father warned me. I managed to avoid him for all these years. But I no longer want to hide in the shadows, Lil. I want him dead so we can be together, without fear. So I lured him here with the intention to kill him. And I’m sorry I failed. ” Her hand tightens around mine.
“And my public execution? Our act? Was that your idea, or his?”
“Mine. I swear I came up with the idea myself, to make all of this stop. When I told him our plan, he paid me to follow through. To actually kill you. I never would have done that, Lillian. I was going to use the money to start our new life together. And no matter what happens next, how this all ends, please know that I love you. Only you. And I never meant to bring harm to you. Ever.”
While I don’t believe her, and will never trust her again, for the moment, I acquiesce. “I believe you,” I say.
“Katherine!” Broadbent’s voice is strained. Angry. A loud clatter rumbles up from the base of the stairs. Then a thump. And another. Slow and deliberate.
“He’s coming,” I say. “To the roof.”
We climb the rickety staircase and push through the trapdoor, onto the widow’s walk.
There’s a storm brewing in the distance.
The scent of rain-charged air surrounds us as the wind rustles my thin shift around my knees.
I beckon Kate to the railing, praying the metal is as weak and brittle there as the section I leaned against just yesterday.
A few moments later, Broadbent emerges through the trapdoor. He’s wrapped a tourniquet around his arm, and while his sleeve is soaked with blood, he seems little worse for the wear.
“Stupid whores,” he growls as we huddle together near the railing.
I can feel Kate trembling. She’s frightened.
Consummate actress that she is, I can’t fathom what it took for her to summon the courage to allow him to touch her again.
Though I can’t forgive her for her betrayal, I understand why she did what she did.
We’re two of a kind, in many ways. I’ve been acting my entire life as well.
The dutiful daughter. The loyal older sister.
I’ve always known that no one was coming to save me.
Not then, and not now. It’s up to me to save myself.
Broadbent walks slowly toward us, leering.
“When I say so, move away from me,” I whisper to Kate.
“I won’t, Lil. I won’t leave you.”
I sigh in frustration. “For once, will you listen to me?”
“Katherine . . .” Broadbent says. “Come here. I’m not angry with you. All is forgiven. We’ll leave here, put all of this behind us.”
I grasp Kate’s arm, holding her in place next to me. We need to keep him talking. Disarm him with guile. “Why?” I ask. “Why did you have to kill those women? You said you did it for science. But couldn’t you have taken their blood without murdering them?”
“I suppose so,” he says, shrugging. “But the component of fear is vital. Your sister was special to me, in that respect. After her death, my studies suffered.”
I stiffen, regarding him coldly.
“Rebecca was the genesis. The inspiration for my research. When her asthma showed a marked improvement with manual stimulation, along with her hysteria, I increased her sessions. With your mother’s permission, I began seeing her three times a week.
I would do bloodletting after each session, to see the cause and effect of my treatments—that’s how I discovered her blood had special properties.
When I injected myself with Rebecca’s blood, it enhanced my energy.
My arousal. Made me sexually insatiable.
I knew I’d discovered something remarkable.
I began letting the blood of my other female patients after stimulating them, to test my hypothesis, and observed the same phenomenon—but it was markedly pronounced with redheads. ”
Bile rises in my throat, knowing that this man violated my sister’s trust and her body. Used her. Used my mother. Used me, for a scapegoat, so that he might continue his disturbing experiments after Rebecca’s death unchecked.
“Do you know what the French call the paroxysmal crisis? La petite mort. The little death. So I thought, if Rebecca’s levels of arousal peaked after reaching crisis, how much more might they rise if she believed her life was in peril?
” He grins wickedly. “So I entered the second phase of my experiment. I began choking her to the point of unconsciousness during stimulation. Her blood sang with elevated humors!” This man was no doctor, driven by goodwill.
He was a sadist who reveled in inflicting pain and fear.
And we’d never known. Not until the week of her death, when I witnessed his abuse of Rebecca myself.
Why did she never tell us? Was she afraid we wouldn’t believe her?
Did she truly feel he was helping her, until the point it became unendurable?
Looking back now, there were signs. The high-necked gowns she favored in the last year of her life, probably to hide the bruises he left on her skin. The nightmares. Her insistence on my presence when he came for house calls.
I hold back a sob, doing my best to harness my fear. My anger. Kate squeezes my hand and I glance at her. Tears glisten in her eyes, too.
“I was going to test your blood, too, my dear. That night, at the Kincaid party, you almost fooled me with your auburn wig and Scottish accent. You were going to be my next conquest, after Arabella. And then I recognized those violet eyes. Just like your mother’s.”
I push aside my guilt over Rebecca and face him full-on, my rage a cold fire. “Well, now you have me. Do whatever you like.”
“Oh, you’re of no use to me medically. But I do have to kill you. You know too much. And then I’ll go elsewhere, with Katherine at my side. Set up a new practice in another town. I have everything I need to continue my work.”
Anger floods through me. “You bastard.”
“You’re right about that,” he says, laughing. “I was a whore’s son. But I lifted myself quite well, I’d say.”
“Our father would be ashamed of what you’ve become, Lionel,” Kate says, her voice shaking. “You’ve used the skills he taught you for evil. Broken your oath. I won’t go with you. I won’t leave Lillian.”
“You’re a fool, Katherine. My discoveries will change the world. Men will praise me as a god of medicine. If you won’t come with me, I’ll have to kill you. Is that really what you want?”
I slide my foot toward Kate, cueing her to step away from me.
I glance behind me. The rusted railing is just beyond my fingertips.
Inches from my back. The wind picks up and hard rain begins to fall, pelting my face with cold droplets.
“They won’t praise you, Broadbent,” I taunt.
“You’ll be reviled as the murderer you are.
You’re a monster. A predator. My mother knows what you did.
I put it all together, sitting in her parlor this afternoon.
She’s going to the authorities.” It’s a lie, but I need to inflame his rage.
Need to make him charge me, like a maddened bull.
He laughs. “She won’t betray me. She’s destitute. A pariah. And if she does go to the authorities?” He shrugs. “She’ll be easily disposed of as well.”
The rain is falling in sheets now, half obscuring him from view. But I don’t need to see him to fire my final poisoned arrow. My heart gallops, but I will my voice to steady.
“I don’t think there was anything special or different about my sister’s blood.
Or any of the others. I think it was only an excuse for your violence.
So, tell me, Doctor, why it is that you must inject the blood of a frightened woman in order to become aroused?
Do you lack the will and ability on your own? ”
“You sharp-tongued little cunt,” he snarls.
I laugh, knowing it will agitate him further. “So, it’s true, then! You’re impotent.”