slicing through him with the unexpected precision
of a paper cut on a fingertip.
Still,
even if she's insane, I have to try to help her.
He
turned down another street. It was Dominicos again. They were just
going around in circles, like his thoughts.
"What
now?"
"Let's
go back to the freeway," she said. "Head toward Burgos. It
doesn't matter if they're still following us. I don't need much
time." To
do what? he
wondered. Kill
me? But
then she added, "To explain all this to you." She paused
and then asked, "Victor, do you believe in evil?"
"Evil?"
"Yes.
You're a theologian, right? So. Do you believe in evil?"
"I'm
not a theologian," he murmured, slightly put off. "I read
theology, that's all."
It
was true that he'd once wanted to go to seminary school, study
theology, but he'd eventually discarded the idea, deciding simply to
study on his own instead. He read Barth, Bonhoeffer, and Kung. He'd
told Elisa this, and under different circumstances he would have been
flattered that she'd brought it up. But right then the only thing he
could think was that things were stacking up in favor of his insanity
hypothesis. Had Elisa lost it?
"Whatever,"
she said. "Do you think there exists some form of wickedness
beyond what can be scientifically explained?"
Victor
pondered his answer.
"There's
nothing that cannot be scientifically explained except faith. Are you
talking about the Devil?"
Elisa
didn't answer. Victor stopped at an intersection and turned back
toward the freeway, his mind racing faster than he was driving.
"I'm
a Catholic, Elisa," he added. "I believe that there is an
evil, supernatural force that science will never be able to explain."
He
waited for some kind of reaction, wondering if he'd put his foot in
his mouth. How could he possibly know what a mentally disturbed
person wanted to hear? But her response left him ill at ease.
"I'm
glad to hear you say that; it means you'll have less trouble
believing what I'm about to tell you. I don't know if it's about the
Devil, but it's definitely a force of evil. An inconceivable,
mind-boggling, sickening evil that has no scientific explanation..."
For a second, he thought she was going to burst into tears again.
"You have no idea, no idea, the degree of evil I'm talking
about, Victor. I've never told anyone; I swore I wouldn't. But I
can't take it anymore. I have to tell someone, and you're the one I
chose."
He
would have liked to respond with the easy self-confidence of a
Hollywood heartthrob and say something like "You're doing the
right thing, babe!" Though he didn't like movies, he felt his
life had suddenly turned into a horror flick. But he couldn't
respond. He was trembling. It wasn't a figure of speech, an internal
shiver, or any kind of tingling. He was literally trembling. Though
he gripped the steering wheel tightly, his arms shook as if he were
sleeveless in the Antarctic. Suddenly, Victor doubted his theory
about Elisa's insanity. She spoke with such assurance that it
terrified him to listen to her. He realized it would be worse, much
worse, if she wasn't crazy. It was scary to think she might have lost
her mind, but if she hadn't, Victor didn't know if he could face up
to whatever she was going to say.
"I
won't ask you to do anything besides listen to me," she
continued. "It's almost eleven. We've got an hour. After that,
just put me in a taxi, if you ... if you decide not to come with me."
He stared at her. "I have to be at a very important meeting at
twelve thirty tonight. I can't miss it, no matter what. You can do
whatever you want."
"I'll
go with you."
"No
... Don't make that decision before you hear me out." She
stopped and took a deep breath. "After that, feel free to kick
me out. And forget everything that's happened. I swear I won't hold
it against you if you do..."
"I...,"
Victor whispered, and then coughed. "I won't do that. Go on.
Tell me everything."
"It
started ten years ago," Elisa said.
Out
of the blue, Victor suddenly became very