Kill Her Again

2 6

“ This is ridiculous,” Jake said.

Pope turned sharply. “You promised not to interrupt.”

“Come on, Danny, are you really falling for this nonsense?”

Pope looked at McBride, but she hadn’t stirred. Although she had been responding to his questions clearly and without hesitation, there seemed to be a part of her that wasn’t even aware he was asking them. In fact, she was so deep into her trance, so immersed in the world of this little girl, that he thought it might be tough to bring her out again.

“I just told her partner to take a hike,” Jake continued. “Maybe it’s time I suggest she do the same thing. You hear me, McBride?”

“Knock it off, Jake.”

“Who does she think she’s kidding? A mysterious car? A gypsy girl? Another goddamn house of mirrors? She’s making this stuff up as she goes-”

“Stop,” Pope said.

And to his surprise, Jake did.

They sat in silence a moment. And in that moment, Pope realized that Jake looked a little rattled. Maybe the rock-solid foundation he’d been standing on all of his life was starting to show a few hairline cracks.

“I’ve been doing this a long time,” Pope said, “and I’ve seen my share of phonies. Believe me, she’s not faking it.”

“And you know that how?”

“Instinct and experience.”

Jake shook his head. “You may be good at what you do, Danny, but you’ve always been too quick to trust people.”

He was right, of course. One of the people Pope had trusted was sitting in jail right now. But that didn’t mean McBride was some kind of con artist. Pope knew, without even the slightest hint of uncertainty, that what she had described to them was no fantasy.

They were beyond recall and imagination now. Way beyond. And despite his cousin’s yearly subscription to Naysayers R Us, Pope was pretty sure Jake knew it, too.

“You’re fighting this too much. Like you’re afraid Santa Claus might exist after all.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” Jake said, rising from the sofa. And Pope could see that he wasn’t about to give up without a fight. “Your new girlfriend is either seriously screwed up or she’s playing with our heads something fierce.”

“You don’t believe that,” Pope said.

“No? I can sure put it to the test.”

“How?”

“While you kids continue your little charade, I’m going to my office to do some real police work. Feed Jillian Carpenter into the system, see if I get any hits.” He started for the hallway. “Ten to one, I come up empty.”

“I’ll take that bet.”

When Jake was gone, Pope returned his attention to McBride. The interruption hadn’t fazed her. Not in the slightest. And he wondered how much deeper she might go.

Touching her arm, he said, “Talk to me, Jillian. Tell me where you are.”

They ran out of steam near Mercer Street, laughing and out of breath. With each block they’d run, Jillian had started to feel a little better about things, thinking she may have gotten all worked up over nothing.

It wasn’t like Craig was a bad guy. Not really. At least not bad enough to want to kill her. All he was interested in doing was hanging around with Mom-and who could blame him? She was pretty cool.

And who cared if that old car was parked outside of Carl’s? Who cared if it had a sticker from Big Mountain? There were probably a lot of Big Mountain people who lived in the area. They had to live somewhere. And just because she’d seen the car more than once didn’t mean anybody was following her.

Did it?

She and Suzie took their usual shortcut through the alley behind the Mercer Street Laundromat. They were halfway through it when Jillian said, “Do you think Craig would ever try to hurt me?”

Suzie spun around, walking backwards in front of Jillian. She was working on another Pixy Stick. Cherry. “I dunno. I don’t think so. Why?”

Jillian shook her head. “I’m just being stupid.”

“Has he ever tried?”

“No. He’s always nice. Too nice.”

Suzie tilted the Pixy Stick, tapped cherry powder into her mouth, then swallowed. “Then I don’t know what you’re getting all freaked out about. Besides, anybody who can get us free tickets to Big Mountain can’t be all-”

Suzie stopped in her tracks, looking past Jillian’s shoulder, her eyes going wide.

“What?” Jillian said, and turned.

Her stomach dropped as she looked toward the mouth of the alley.

The Rambler was turning in, moving toward them. Slowly. The reflection of the sun on the windshield made it impossible to see the driver’s face, but Jillian could tell that he was wearing a baseball cap. A red baseball cap.

And she knew, instinctively, that this was no accident. He was here for her.

Turning, she grabbed Suzie’s arm. “Run,” she said, and the two took off, hauling it toward the end of the alley.

The car’s engine revved behind them-he was picking up speed-and Jillian poured it on herself, trying to keep hold of Suzie’s arm.

“Come on!” she shouted. “Don’t slow down!”

But Suzie was breathing really hard now, sobbing, and Jillian could feel her starting to fall behind.

The car’s engine grew louder and Jillian wanted to turn and look, to see how close he was, but she didn’t dare, because she knew that would only slow her down.

Then she lost her grip on Suzie’s arm and had no choice but to look. The car was directly behind them now, Suzie stumbling in front of it, tears streaming down her face.

“Help me,” she shouted. “Help me!”

But it was too late. The car revved and picked up speed, its bumper hitting Suzie, knocking her back and over the hood of the car and into a row of metal garbage cans — and suddenly Mr. Stinky and his encounter with the bus came to Jillian’s mind — but Jillian didn’t have time to be thinking about such things, because the car was bearing down on her now. And just as it reached her, she grunted and dove to her left, straight into a pile of discarded cardboard boxes — as the car roared past her and squealed around the corner.

The boxes went flying as Jillian plowed through them, landing hard on the ground beneath them, the impact knocking the wind out of her-what little wind she had left.

She lay there for a moment, trying to breathe, trying to figure out what had just happened, when she heard a soft moan coming from the trash cans behind her.

Suzie.

Dragging herself to her feet, Jillian saw that most of the cans were lying out in the middle of the alley now, but Suzie was crumpled up against a wall.

Jillian staggered over to her, knelt beside her. She was alive, but her nose was bloody and one of her legs was twisted funny.

“It hurts,” Suzie said.

“I have to go get help.”

“No. Don’t leave me here. He might come back.”

“I have to. You can’t walk like this.”

“It’s all your fault. You shouldn’t’ve been looking in his car.”

“I’m sorry,” Jillian said. “I’m sorry.”

But she knew that looking in that car had nothing to do with the attack. She had been right all along. Maybe not the part about Craig-that was just stupid-but she knew that the man in the baseball cap had been following her. Watching her. Ever since they sat outside that house of mirrors.

What she didn’t know was why.

And for some reason, the photo from the locket came into her head. The gypsy girl with her big brown eyes.

Who was she? What made her special to him?

Suzie’s face was streaked with blood and tears. “How am I gonna go to Big Mountain like this?”

“Will you shut up about Big Mountain already?”

“You don’t have to yell.”

“I hate that place,” Jillian said. “I hope they close it down and burn it to the ground. I don’t care if I ever go there a-”

Suzie’s eyes went wide again and Jillian froze.

Someone was behind her.

Suddenly an arm wrapped around her-that same arm she’d seen dangling from the Rambler’s window-as a hand came up to her face carrying a damp, greasy rag. It covered her mouth and nose, and before Jillian even had a chance to resist, she sucked in a deep, frightened breath — and everything went black.