Chapter 58
“I was used to the pictures, but the sounds and the smell…I went hysterical, but then I saw my dad looking at me over all that blood. His eyes were so fierce. That was when I realized his nightstand drawer was open.”
Clark went still, trying to breathe under the weight of the mental images that assaulted him. It was too damned easy to imagine a nightmare in man-shape raising a gun and firing; too simple to hear the dull impact, see the way Daniel’s mother would startle awake and jerk her head to speak or move, and then another shot, another dull noise.
And Clark closed his eyes, thinking about a little Daniel—a child—being dragged from bed and hurt. He wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t know what was happening. Or worse yet, he would know, and Clark felt a cold wash of sympathetic terror. He could almost see the drawer from the vantage point of the floor, and Clark tried to make himself stop seeing and start listening.