39

That day after school, Johanna went over to the old diner. She walked through the employee door and went up to a tall, broad-shouldered man.

"Excuse me, sir?" she asked. "Are you Mr. Statler?"

He turned around. "Yes, ma'am. You must be the girl Myrna hired for me. What was your name?"

"Johanna Barker."

"All right, Miss Barker," Statler said. "Let me explain your duties before you get to work."

Rudolph was back at Green Lawn Cemetery, standing over his father's grave.

"It looks so different in the evening," he whispered to himself as he kneeled down.

Norman Bates' ghost sat down next to his son. He rested his hand on his son's shoulder.

Rudolph felt a chill, and he turned towards his father.

"Hello again," said the spirit. "How is your search going?"

"It's… going. Slowly," Rudolph replied. He paused, shifted nervously, then continued, "You never did tell me how you died."

"Oh, God, I was hoping you'd forget to ask me that," his father said. He turned his face away, tearing up.

"Dad, what happened?" the younger man insisted.

"I was murdered," he choked out. "Your mother was spared because she wasn't home at the time. He was trying to kill us all. He tried to kill… He knew I would be in your room with you while your mother was out. He was going to kill you first, so I would suffer and beg for death before he committed the act against me.

"When he shot at you, I'd stepped between the two of you. He must have thought we'd both been hit, since I saw him leave as I fell and blacked out. I'm not really sure, though. I was hit in the heart, and I must've died instantly."

There was a long pause.

Rudolph whispered, "You kept saying 'he.' Who is 'he'?"

"Duke. Duane Duke."