The Sopaths Read Free Page A

hall.
    Abner had a horrible premonition. Some children really were assassins. Sopaths could be. “I’ll go!” he cried. But she continued toward the stairs.
    He rolled to his feet and followed. He heard Zelda cry out. Then he heard her tumbling down the stairs. He turned on the hall light, which she had ignored in her haste, but of course that was too late.
    Zelda was at the foot of the stairs, lying askew. As if it were a snapshot he saw her there—and saw the cord that had been tied across the top step from the banister support to the rail on the wall. She had tripped over it in the shadow and fallen headlong.
    He ripped out the cord and charged down to help her. But already he knew with a sickened certainty that it was useless. Her head was at a wrong angle and she wasn’t breathing.
    And there stood Olive, gazing placidly on the scene. She had of course tied the cord for exactly this purpose: to injure or kill an adult.
    “Get up into your room,” he snapped at the child.
    “No.”
    He rose and grabbed her with one motion. For an instant he was tempted to hurl her into a wall, but he simply carried her up the stairs and dropped her on the bed. He locked the door.
    He called the police. The same crew came to investigate. “I told you to keep it locked up,” the man reproved him.
    “My wife forgot.” It was like being in an unreal realm.
    “Don’t you forget.”
    When they and Zelda’s body were gone, Abner tried to relax, to fathom the magnitude of the disaster, but it eluded him. He found himself half-believing that none of it had happened, that Zelda and Jasper were out shopping for school clothes and would return shortly. That gave him a temporary license on sanity.
    Then Olive pounded on her door. “Let me out, daddy! I’ll be good.”
    And how was he to deal with this little monster? She had killed twice, without remorse. Yet she was his daughter.
    He went to her bedroom and unlocked the door. She was standing there, unconscionably cute. “Why did you tie that rope?” he asked as she walked out.
    “She locked me in.”
    “So did I.”
    Her little head turned to gaze at him with disquieting consideration. “I don’t like it. I’m hungry.” She made her way down the stairs, navigating them carefully, as they were quite big for her.
    So it had indeed been deliberate. Olive knew the stairs were dangerous, so had cleverly used them to get back at her mother. He would have thought that such strategy would be beyond a three-year-old, but evidently it was not. And so a little child had been able to kill another child and an adult, because they had annoyed her.
    He followed her down to the kitchen. He went for cereal and milk. He was not great on making meals, but could handle this much.
    “No,” she said firmly. “Candy.”
    “Candy isn’t good for you.”
    “I don’t care.”
    So he fetched her a candy bar. Was she to govern this household, having eliminated those who told her no? Would she become a little tyrant whose whim was law?
    There was no point in dragging this out. “Now use the bathroom if you need to, and return to your room.”
    “No.”
    He gave her a direct stare. “Or else.”
    “Or else what?”
    Was she calling his bluff? “Or else I’ll spank you so hard you won’t ever forget it.”
    She considered, then obeyed. She understood ruthless power. Unfortunately that seemed to be all she responded to.
    That reminded him again of his military service. He had turned out to be a natural leader, with a special touch for female personnel, and gotten promoted rapidly as others died from sniping and roadside bombs. They had been under siege by urban guerrillas, never knowing when the next enemy strike would come. That had worn down the men and women. They had a higher attrition from post traumatic stress and suicide than from enemy action. Abner had to his own surprise been able to handle it, armor-plating his spirit after the sniping episode. But he hated it, and was heartily glad