Mind Prey Read Free

given to pronunciations about proper roles in life , and hard-wired behavior. There were rumors that he used tarot cards in his work. He fawned on Andi. “Dr. Manette,” he said, nodding, slowing. “Nasty day.”
    “Yes,” Andi said. But her breeding wouldn’t let her stop so curtly, even with a man she disliked. “It’s supposed to rain all night again.”
    “That’s what I hear,” Girdler said. “Say, did you see this month’s Therapodist ? There’s an article on the structure of recovered memory…”
    He rambled on for a moment, Andi smiling automatically, then Genevieve interrupted, loudly, “Mom, we’re superlate,” and Andi said, “We’ve really got to go, David,” and then, because of the breeding, “But I’ll be sure to look it up.”
    “Sure, nice talking to you,” Girdler said.
    When he’d gone inside, Genevieve said, looking after him, from the corner of her mouth like Bogart, “What do we say, Mom?”
    “Thank you, Gen,” Andi said, smiling.
    “You’re welcome, Mom.”
     
    “O KAY,” A NDI SAID . “I’ll run for it.” She looked down the parking lot. A red van had parked on the driver’s side of her car and she’d have to run around the back of it.
    “I’m coming, too,” Genevieve said.
    “I get the front,” Grace said.
    “I get the front…”
    “You got the front on the way over, beetle,” Grace said.
    “Mom, she called me…”
    Grace made the pinching sign again, and Andi said, “You get in the back, Gen. You had the front on the way over.”
    “Or I’ll pinch you,” Grace added.
    They half-ran through the rain, Andi in her low heels, Genevieve with her still-short legs, holding hands. Andi released Gen’s hand as they crossed behind the Econoline van. She pointed her key at the car and pushed the electronic lock button, heard the locks pop up over the hissing of the rain.
    Head bent, she hurried down between the van and the car, Gen a step behind her, and reached for the door handles.
     
    A NDI HEARD THE doors slide on the van behind her; felt the presence of the man, the motion. Automatically began to smile, turning.
    Heard Genevieve grunt, turned and saw the strange round head coming for her, the mop of dirty-blond hair.
    Saw the road-map lines buried in a face much too young for them.
    Saw the teeth, and the spit, and the hands like clubs.
    Andi screamed, “Run.”
    And the man hit her in the face.
    She saw the blow coming but was unable to turn away. The impact smashed her against her car door, and she slid down it, her knees going out.
    She didn’t feel the blow as pain, only as impact, the fist on her face, the car on her back. She felt the man turning, felt blood on her skin, smelled the worms of the pavement as she hit it, the rough, wet blacktop on the palms of her hands, thought crazily—for just the torn half of an instant—about ruining her suit, felt the man step away.
    She tried to scream “Run” again, but the word came out as a groan, and she felt—maybe saw, maybe not—the man moving on Genevieve, and she tried to scream again, to say something, anything, and blood bubbled out of her nose and the pain hit her, a blinding, wrenching pain like fire on her face.
    And in the distance, she heard Genevieve scream, and she tried to push up. A hand pulled at her coat, lifting her, and she flew through the air, to crash against a sheet of metal. She rolled again, facedown, tried to get her knees beneath her, and heard a car door slam.
    Half-sensible, Andi rolled, eyes wild, saw Genevieve in a heap, and bloody from head to toe. She reached out to her daughter, who sat up, eyes bright. Andi tried to stop her, then realized that it wasn’t blood that stained her red, it was something else: and Genevieve, inches away, screamed, “Momma, you’re bleeding…”
    Van , she thought.
    They were in the van. She figured that out, pulled herself to her knees, and was thrown back down as the van screeched out of the parking place.
    Grace will see us ,