"First, I'd like to say that, as a mother, I respect how much interest you take in your boys. And despite our differences, I applaud you for always putting them ahead of yourself."

"Thanks, Jane, I feel the same way about you."

"Good, I'm glad we agree on something." There was a pause, the sound of Jane's breath coming across the line.

"Why did you call, again?"

A sigh. "Well . . . it's about Benny."

"Yes?"

"Jim's been having some problems with him. Has Benny mentioned it?"

Typical Democrat kid, Karen thought. Always running off to tattletale instead of taking a stand. "He hasn't spoken to me about it. Wait-he did say something about Jim leaving practice early because of a hit Benny gave him. But really, Jane, isn't that a part of football? If Jim can't hack it, then maybe he should consider a different after-school sport. One which requires less . . . tenacity."

Jane's voice intensified. "That isn't why I'm calling, Karen-well, I mean, it is, but . . . something else has been going on."

"And that is?"

Jane paused again before saying, "It's been happening in the locker room after practice, and Jim says it's gone on for some time. He says Benny's been . . . exposing himself."

Silence. Karen stirred the pasta. "That's a lie, Jane."

"I believe my son."

"I don't give a d.a.m.n what he says. It simply isn't true. It can't be. Benny's a good Christian boy with good Christian values. He knows it's a sin to lie. I wonder, does your son know?"

"I'm not trying to start a debate with you, Karen. Jim was deathly serious when he told me about this. Frightened even. He says he's been too scared to tell because Benny'd beat him up. I know when my son is lying, and he wasn't lying about this. He told me Benny makes him stay till all the other kids have left the locker room, then takes him into the corner and forces him to . . . touch his p.e.n.i.s."

The timer dinged and Karen poured the steaming hot noodles into the strainer. "You vile woman, can't you hear what you're saying? I want nothing to do with this. Seems like your son tried to make a h.o.m.os.e.xual pa.s.s at Benny and Benny naturally turned him down. Perhaps this is his way of retaliating."

"That's ludicrous!"

Karen leaned against the countertop, drying her hands on a towel. "What do you want me to say? I know my son. I know how I raised him. And I know for a fact he would never do this. So I suggest you have a talk with Jim and tell him where liars end up when they die."

Jane gave an exasperated sigh. "If it happens again, Karen, I'm contacting the police."

Karen laughed. "Go right ahead-if you want to embarra.s.s your son by exposing him as a queer."

"d.a.m.n it, I'm serious!" she said. Then the line went dead.

Humming, Karen replaced the phone into its cradle and opened the oven to check the veal cutlets.

"All right, you little b.i.t.c.hes," she said. "If I remove the doll heads, will you behave yourselves?"

The girls nodded weakly.

"Don't bother screaming for help; as you can see, I've had the entire room soundproofed. I did it myself." She knocked the head from the black girl's mouth. It popped and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop by the padded wall. Next she did the Latina, then finally the blonde.

"You're gonna pay for this, you psycho," the black girl said.

Karen jabbed two fingers, knuckles bent, right into her eyes; the girl screamed, squeezing them shut, tears falling down her cheeks.

"First rule," Karen said, "is no one talks except me. Each time you blurt something out, I punish you for it. Understand?"

They nodded again.

"Good. Now, I know your little tummies probably hurt from the abortion. But that's how it should be. That's why I kidnapped you directly after the procedure-so the pain would be fresh. It'll help remind you of your decision."

She began pacing in front of them. "I'll have you know that I monitored three separate clinics waiting for just the right girls. Ones who were alone, who weren't accompanied by parents or sc.u.mmy boyfriends." She chuckled. "Needless to say, I didn't have to wait long."

The blonde suddenly bent forward, retched onto the floor, the smell of her vomit instantly filling the room.

"You see, that's her body reacting to the procedure. She had her abortion just this morning, whereas you two had yours yesterday. It's not unusual for the patient to vomit. Other side effects include bleeding, dizziness, p.i.s.sing fetal matter, damage to the womb. Who knows, it's possible that none of you can have children now."

"That's bulls.h.i.t," the Latina said. "Women have abortions all the time and go on to carry successfully. I researched it on the internet. I dunno where you're getting your facts from, lady, but they're all wrong."

Karen grabbed a fistful of the girl's hair, yanking her up. The Latina barked, yelped, but refused to scream; it was obvious she didn't want to give Karen the satisfaction.

"Think you can trust the internet?" she said. "Did you know the letter W, when traced to its Hebrew roots, corresponds to the number six? That means whenever you punch in a website, you're accessing the mark of the beast-666. But yes, go ahead, believe the satanic lies, see where that gets you."

Karen flung the girl away, laughing as her face hit the concrete floor. "And what did I tell you about speaking? Look, I'm not the bad guy here. I want you to remember that. I'm trying to save your souls, so you might learn to live in the light of Jesus Christ. Every act of sin warrants a consequence, and that's what this is: your consequence."

There was a knock at the metal door. Karen made a pouty face, pulled in her bottom lip. "We're gonna have to finish this later."

The girls began to shout and cry for help, but Karen patiently bound up their mouths with loose rags.

Cracking the door, she peeked out and saw Bobby, her youngest, standing there. "Yes?" she said.

"Daddy's home. He said to come get you for dinner."

"Tell him I'll be right up."

She made to close the door, but Bobby suddenly asked, "How are things going in there?"

She looked at him. "Fine, honey. Mommy is still working on her writing, so she needs a few minutes to finish up, okay? Please go tell your father what I said."

"Okay." He tromped back up the stairs, tight blond curls bouncing on his head. Karen closed the door.

The baby killers were breathing a little heavily, but she decided to keep the gags on them. They were still too volatile. She couldn't risk anyone hearing their cries. Hiking up her skirt, she squatted and pulled aside her panties. Then she urinated into the floor drain, which had originally been installed to prevent flooding, but which now functioned as a toilet for the kidnapped wh.o.r.es. When she was finished, she rearranged her clothing, flipped out the light, and headed upstairs.

Ted was sitting at the kitchen table when she entered, wearing his suit and tie. "I'm starved," he said. "What took you so long?"

"Sorry." She walked over to the oven and removed the pan of veal cutlets, then removed the pot of pasta and switched off the gas.

"Still working on your romance novel?" he asked.

"Yep. Wrote two thousand words today."

"Is that a lot? I do think it's great you got something to keep yourself busy all day-other than your housework, of course. I know you loved that job at the lawyer's firm, but I can tell this new hobby's good for you."

"You have no idea." She placed the pasta and the veal on the table then shouted, "Bobby! Benny! Supper's ready!"

The two boys came thundering down the stairwell, flying past Karen, falling into chairs at the table.

"Take it easy," she said.

"It's fine," Ted said. "They're just being boys. Tell me, how was football practice?"

Bobby held up a finger. "I scored a touchdown."