Colin called Heather.
“Did you talk to Roy’s mother?” she asked.
“Yeah. And I got more than I bargained for.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s too complicated over the phone. You’ve got to hear the tape.”
“Why don’t you bring it here? My parents are gone for the day.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Don’t come by the front way,” she said. “Roy just might happen to be at the cemetery across the street; you never can tell. Take the alley and come through the backyard.”
He made certain he wasn’t followed, and she was waiting for him on the patio behind the house. They went into the cheery yellow-and-white kitchen, sat at the table, and listened to the taped conversation between him and Mrs. Borden.
When Colin finally switched off the machine, Heather said, “It’s awful.”
“I know.”
“Poor Roy.”
“I know what you mean,” Colin said morosely.
“I’m kind of sorry I said those mean things about him. He can’t help what he is, can he?”
“It affected me the same way. But we can’t let ourselves feel too sorry for him. Not yet. We don’t dare. We’ve got to remember that he’s dangerous. We’ve got to keep in mind that he’d happily kill me-and rape and kill you-if he thought he could get away with it.”
The kitchen clock ticked hollowly.
Heather said, “If we played this tape for the police, it might convince them.”
“Of what? That Roy was an abused child? That he was maybe abused enough to grow up twisted? Yeah. Maybe it would convince them of that, all right. But it wouldn’t prove a thing. It wouldn’t prove that Roy killed those two boys or that he tried to wreck a train the other night or that he’s trying to kill me. We need more than this. We have to go through with the rest of the plan.”
“Tonight,” she said.
“Yeah.”