“ Dachau, Debora. Rwanda, Darfur, slave ships, Cambodia, melting deserts. Average man sits in a café and eats his cream cakes. He knows which way the wind blows, the stench blows into his nose but he pretends. You choose to fly freely, Debora. The crowd chooses a cage. I chose a cage.”

“Travis, this isn’t an issue of war and-”

Huck swiveled toward her. “It is, Debora. War breathes in all of us. Raid the neighboring pack, raze the village, eat the young. In a good world, to be human is to be un-animal. You made the choice to be human. I-”

“Travis, we’re here for you to tell them what you know-”

“-sniffed the wind and stench blew through my head. I allowed it to happen, Debora.”

Before Wallenburg could retort, I said, “You allowed the murders.”

Huck clapped his hands on the desk, as if bracing for a fall. Long, knobby fingers pressed on leather, slid back, leaving snail-trails of perspiration. He worried his sagging cheek.

Wallenburg said, “Travis, you had absolutely noth-”

“I could’ve stopped it. I don’t deserve to live.” He bared his wrists, ready for shackles. Debora Wallenburg pushed one hand down. Huck grew rigid.

I said, “When did you know?”

“I-there’s no beginning,” said Huck. “It was just in here. Here. Here. Hereherehere.” Slapping his head, his cheek, his chest, his gut. Increasing the force with each blow.

“You sensed violence was coming.”

“Kelvin,” he said. Lowering his head, he mumbled to leather. “I took him on walks. We didn’t talk much, Kelvin’s quiet. We saw deer, lizards, eagles, coyote. Kelvin likes listening to the ocean, says the ocean’s a ground bass, the universe hums like a Gregorian chant.”

I said, “And Kelvin is…”

Huck stared at me.

I said, “The family’s dead.”

Huck sobbed raggedly. A mustache of snot formed over his crooked lips. Debora Wallenburg offered him a tissue and when he didn’t take it, she wiped him.

I said, “How do you know?”

“Where are they?” he wailed.

“You have no idea where they are?”

“I thought she loved them, I thought she was capable of love.” One hand opened, as if panhandling. His palm was scrubbed clean, his nails gnawed stubby. When the fingers rotated, I saw scars on his knuckles-glossy, white, what appeared to be old burns.

I said, “By ‘she’ you mean…”

No answer.

“Who, Travis?”

He mouthed the word. Sound followed an instant later, as if digitally delayed. “Simone.”

Moe Reed’s eyes narrowed. Milo ’s were shut and his hands rested on his belly. To the casual observer, sleeping. I knew better; no snoring.

I said, “You’re saying Simone killed the Vanders.”

Each word made Huck shudder.

“That’s your theory, Travis? Or do you know it for a fact?”

“It’s not-I know-from what she-I thought she was vulnerable, not-because she hurt herself.”

“Hurt herself how?”

“Wounds you can’t see unless… it’s a secret game.”

“Simone cuts herself.”

Nod. “She tastes her own blood.”

“When we met her, we saw no visible wounds-”

“She chooses the secret places.” Licking his lips.

“You know that because…”

His head lurched forward. A cold, raw sound made its way past clenched lips.

I said, “You and Simone were intimate.”

Strangled laughter. He supported himself on the desktop, again. “Stupid dream. She had other ideas.”

Wallenburg prompted: “Tell them exactly what you told me about her, Travis.”

Silence.

“Tell them how she seduced you, Travis.”

Huck shook his head furiously. “That makes it sound romantic. It wasn’t romantic, it was a… a… a…”

“Tell them or I will.”

Huck pleaded, “Debora.”

“I told them you’d give them facts, Travis. They won’t believe you unless you give them facts.”

Several moments passed. Huck said, “I-it-she came over. To the big house. No one was home. I’d been watching her. Because she’s beautiful. Physically. Talking to her was out of the question, she’s the daughter, I’m hired help. But she talked to me. It was like she knew my brain from the inside out. Being with her was like opening a window.”

I said, “Easy for her.”

Nod. “She made herself small, we stared at the ocean. She came into my room. Rested her head on my… she showed me her wounds. Cried into my shirt. It was a revelation. The geography of flesh. Holding her as she cried.” He rubbed glossy knuckles.

“You knew about the geography of flesh.”

He stared at leather.

I said, “For her it’s blades, for you it’s fire.”

Crooked smile. “I used to need punishment.”

“In jail?”

“After.” Waiting for Wallenburg to scold him.

She said nothing.

“I’m sorry, Debora. Being free brought back pictures of Jeffrey… I didn’t want to worry you.” To me: “I needed to feel something.”

I said, “What exactly does Simone use?”

“Everything. Razors, kitchen knives, a box cutter. She has guns, gifts from Simon. When he married Nadine, Nadine said please, no guns in the house. Simone holds them, talks about them, expensive guns, she puts the barrels in her mouth, makes believe… she put her hands down her throat to vomit. Sometimes she gives herself a sore throat, coughs blood. She loves her own taste.”

Reed exhaled silently.

Milo continued to slump, barrel chest heaving. Wallenburg looked at him, then at me.

I said, “What else are you going to tell us about Simone?”

Huck said, “The first time she showed me fresh… stigmata, that’s what she called them-the first time, I held her. Then we… she shaved my head, told me I was her priest, my bones were beautiful. I thought… the dream was thinking I could help her.”

“How long did the two of you have a relationship?”

His eyes rolled back. Snapped back into place like slot-machine cherries. “An eternity.”

I said, “Give us something more concrete.”

Debora Wallenburg said, “Two months. It ended around six months ago.”

“That true, Travis?”

Nod.

“How did you learn Simone wasn’t the person you thought she was?”

“I stalked her.”

Reed’s shoulders bunched.

Milo didn’t budge.

Wallenburg said, “Poor choice of words. Just give them the facts, Travis.”

Huck said, “I stalked her, Debora.”

“You had concerns so you began watching her.”

I said, “You followed Simone.”

“I called for a week but she didn’t answer. I was confused. The last time we were together, she said… kind things. Then all of a sudden, nothing? I started to worry she was hurt. Then I thought, maybe she’s waiting for me. To do something spontaneous. She told me spontaneous turned her on, I needed to loosen up. I was afraid to… improvise. Surprises aren’t… I don’t like them. Simone knew I didn’t like to leave the script. So it would be a surprise.”

“You made a spontaneous visit to her house?”

“Just once.”

“When?”

“Three months ago,” said Wallenburg.

Huck said, “Simon and Nadine and Kelvin were in Ojai for the weekend, they went because Kelvin wanted to meet Nikrugsky-the composer. The house was quiet, Simone wasn’t calling back. The quiet turned into… old desires came back.”

“For heat and pain.”

“I found matches. Lit them but didn’t broil myself. I called a sponsor. We talked, but not about what was really in my head. The quiet kept getting louder. I said go, go, go, be spontaneous. Drove to Malibu Canyon and picked flowers, made a bouquet, tied it up with grocery twine, poured grape juice into a wine bottle, wrapped it with a ribbon-black, her favorite color. I took water biscuits from the pantry. Two boxes. Havershams, from England, licensed to the royal family, Simone doesn’t eat much more than water biscuits but when she does… I’ve seen her go through two boxes. Later she… expels them. Her throat bleeds, it looks like strawberry porridge.”