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"There's a strong probability that Regan's disorder is rooted in a guilt over---"
"Guilt over what?" she cried, eyes wild.
"It could---"
"Over the divorce? All that psychiatric bullshit?"
"Now---"
"She's guilty because she killed Burke De
Karras caught her up as she crumpled, sobbing, and guided her toward the sofa. "It's all right," he kept telling her softly, "it's all right..."
"No, they'll put... her away," she was sobbing. '"They'll put... put... ohhhhhhh! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"
"It's all right..."
He eased her down and stretched her out on the sofa. He sat down on the edge and took her hand in both of his. Thoughts of Kinderman. De
Soon the crying subsided and he helped her sit up. He brought her water and a box of tissues he'd found -on a shelf behind the bar. Then he sat down beside her.
"Oh, I'm glad," she said, sniffling and blowing her nose. "God, I'm glad I got it out."
Karras was in turmoil, his own shock of realization increasing, the calmer she grew. Quiet sniffles now. Intermittent catches in the throat. And now the weight was on his back again, heavy and oppressive. He inwardly stiffened. No more! Say no more! "Do you want to tell me more?" he asked her gently.
Chris nodded. Exhaled. She wiped at an eye and spoke haltingly, in spasms, of Kinderman; of the book; of her certainty that De
She finished. Now she waited for Karras' reaction. For a time he did not speak as he thought it all over. Then at last he said softly, "You don't know that she did it."
"But the head turned around," said Chris.
"You'd hit your own head pretty hard against the wall," Karras answered. "You were also in shock. You imagined it."
"She told me that she did it," Chris intoned without expression.
A pause. "And did she tell you how?" Karras asked.
Chris shook her head. He turned and looked at her. "No," she said. "No."
"Then it doesn't mean a thing," Karras told her. "No, it wouldn't mean a thing unless she gave you details that no one else could conceivably know but the killer."
She was shaking her head in doubt. "I don't know," she answered. "I don't know if I'm doing what's right. I think she did it and she could kill someone else. I don't know...." She paused. "Father, what should I do?" she asked him hopelessly.
The weight was now set in concrete; in drying, it had shaped itself to his back.
He rested an elbow on his knee and closed his eyes. "Well, you've told someone now," he said quietly. "You've done what you should. Now forget it. Just put it away and leave it all up to me."
He felt her gaze on him and looked at her. "Are you feeling any better now?"
She nodded.
"Will you do me a favor?" he asked her.
"What?"
"Go out and see a movie."
She wiped at an eye with the back of her hand and smiled. "I hate 'em."
"Then go visit a friend."
She put her hands in her lap and looked at him warmly. "Got a friend right here," she said at last.
He smiled. "Get some rest," he advised her.
"I will."
He had another thought. "You think De
"I think it was already there," Chris answered.
He considered this. Then he stood up. "Well, okay. You need the car?"
"No, you keep it."
"All right, then. I'll be back to you later."
"Ciao, Father."
"Ciao."
He walked out in the street brimming turmoil. Churning. Regan. De
As he passed by the long flight of steps near the house, he heard a sound from below, by the river. He stopped and looked down toward the C&O Canal. A harmonica. Someone playing "Red River Valley," since boyhood Karras' favorite song. He listened until traffic noise drowned it out, until his drifting reminiscence was shattered by a world that was now and in torment, that was shrieking for help, dripping blood on exhaust fumes. He thrust his hands into his pockets. Thought feverishly. Of Chris. Of Regan. Of Lucas aiming kicks at Tranquille. He must do something. What? Could he hope to outguess the clinicians at Barringer? "... go to Central Casting!" Yes; yes, he knew that was the answer; the hope. He remembered the case of Achille. Possessed. Like Regan, he had called himself a devil; like Regan, his disorder had been rooted in guilt; remorse over marital infidelity. The psychologist Janet had effected a cure by hypnotically suggesting the presence of the wife; who appeared to Achille's hallucinated eyes and solemnly forgave him. Karras nodded. Suggestion could work for Regan. But not through hypnosis. They had tried that at Barringer. No. The counteracting suggestion for Regan, he believed, was the ritual of exorcism. She knew what it was; knew its effect. Her reaction to the holy water. Got that from the book. And in the book, there were descriptions of successful exorcisms. It could work! It could! It could work! But how to get permission from the Chancery Office? How to build up a case without mention of De