"That's what he told me," Laura reiterated. Farthing was beginning to spook her a bit.
"Yes," he said, nodding as if to some internal counsel. "So it appears to me that Buck stopped taking his medication, became more and more unstable, took the lives of your schoolmates, then his own life. It's very simple." He was now staring intensely at Laura.
"But it wasn't Buck," Laura reminded him. "It was Freddy, working through my sister."
Detective Farthing leaned forward on the table with his stone-face inches away from Laura's. "It's very simple," he repeated calmly. "Buck did it. He's dead. No investigation. No fireworks. No one else gets hurt. Got that?" A trace of menace had crept into his voice.
"Don't you believe me?" Laura asked, trying to get past his defenses.
"Let's just say I like my story better," he said, standing to full height. "It's cleaner, don't you think? And better for everyone involved, especially you and your sister."
Now Laura saw what he was doing. Detective Farthing did believe her, but he knew no one else would. He was constructing an easier-to-swallow version of events, to protect both her and, likely, a beleaguered police department that had an astronomically high number of homicides per capita. It was a cover-up, but one that she and Shelby would supposedly benefit from.
"I see," Laura said solemnly, and stood.
Detective Farthing turned to Doug, who had remained silent through the whole interview. "What about you, sport?"
"Cleanliness is next to godliness, they say." He, too, stood. "I vote for your story."
Farthing raised an eyebrow. Laura took that as an expression of relief. He let them go, and neither she nor Doug was ever questioned again on the subject. The two officially became an item, after Laura found herself saying these words to him:
"I'm yours, if you want me. I'd do anything for you."
* * *
As for Shelby, she awoke the next day fully alert, and was out of the hospital two days after that. The doctors proclaimed her recovery a miracle. No sign of trauma from the car accident remained.
One thing that did remain was her memory of how horrible she had been to Laura.
"I'd like to say the devil made me do it or something," she told Laura seriously. "But he only really controlled me when he wanted to kill someone. The lying, the sneaking around, that was all me."
Laura instantly forgave her anyway. But she had a question.
"Is Freddy still… with you?" She couldn't shake the feeling that he was still lurking somewhere, waiting to spring out.
"No. Freddy's gone. I know that for sure." Shelby's conviction was unshakable. "I think once you reject him, he's not able to return. I can't say how I know that, it's just something I feel."
Laura took her sister's word for it, but worry still must have shown on her face.
"Heck!" Shelby told her cheerily. "Maybe you got rid of him once and for all."
Laura smiled, but shook her head. She remembered Freddy's words on the subject:
"Don't bet on it."
Epilogue
I guess it's time to take down the Help Wanted sign, eh? With four new recruits for the boiler room brigade, I've got almost all the help I could want!
Dear Allison — she has been hired to try on all the new boiler room fashions. Talk about hot clothing. But unfortunately, the only fabric we use down here is asbestos, so they're not exactly the most flattering of fashions. No doubt she'll experience job burnout very soon.
It would break my heart — if I had one. Heh heh heh…
Chester could use what she's got, however. He is working as a beach model. Unfortunately, he's become the ninety-pound weakling who gets sand kicked into his face. And who's doing the kicking? Why, it's his old friend Buck! The bad news for Buck — and worse news for Chester — is that we just can't keep sand in a place like the boiler room. It just turns to glass! So we've replaced all the sand with lava. How'd you like a face full of that? Chester sure doesn't like it, but he wanted a job where all he does is remain in one place and do nothing. Well, that's what he does when Buck kicks lava in his face: nothing. And he does it well!
Don't think Buck's got it so good. Not only does he have a hotfoot to deal with, but remember Rayne? Now, there was a tacky girl! Since her accident with the deep fryer, she's become even tackier. In fact, she and Buck are joined at the hip — literally. Her flesh has melted to his, and she escorts him everywhere. And lucky Buck gets an up-close-and-personal view of her boil-covered, charred flesh.
Sounds like my kind of girl! Heh heh heh…
They may complain about their work, but they're lucky really. Who else has job security like them? Since each one is consigned to the boiler room for eternity, they can never be fired!
On the other hand, since they are in a boiler room, they will be «fired» repeatedly throughout their never-ending careers.
Too bad I haven't installed a water cooler yet.
Heh heh heh…
Help Wanted Page 12
