Scream For Me

Chapter Eleven

Dutton, Tuesday, January 30, 7:30 p.m.

Well.” Meredith sipped at her drink, looking out of the corners of both eyes like a spy. “Nothing like a being a little conspicuous.”

Alex gave her a rueful look across the table at Presto’s Pizza Parlor. “I tried to warn you this would happen. People have been staring at me all week.” She looked up at Daniel, who’d made a big show of draping his arm around her shoulders as soon as they’d been seated in the booth. “And you’re not helping.”

He shrugged. “They already know I kissed you last night.”

“And that he went into Bailey’s house with you,” Meredith added.

Alex winced. “How? That just happened a few hours ago.”

“Heard it at the jukebox. You fainted and Daniel carried you out in his arms.”

“I did not faint. And I walked out of that house on my own two feet.” She pursed her lips. “I swear to God. These people should just get lives.”

“They did,” Daniel murmured. “Ours. It’s not often two prodigal children return home at the same time.”

“And start fornicatin’.” Meredith lifted her hand. “Their word, not mine. I swear.”

Alex narrowed her eyes. “Whose?”

Daniel pulled her closer. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We’re here and we’re fodder for public consumption until something more interesting happens.”

Meredith looked at the cartoon Hope had colored on the placemat. “Very nice, Hope.”

Alex sighed. “And very red,” she said, so quietly only Daniel could hear. He squeezed her shoulder in silent reply. She looked up at him. “Did Agent Randall find anything that helps you on the other two women?” she whispered. He pressed his forefinger to her lips and shook his head.

“Not here,” he whispered. He looked around, taking in the faces watching them. His eyes became hard and circumspect and she knew he was wondering if the person responsible for two deaths and Bailey’s disappearance was there, watching them.

Watching me, she thought, quelling the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She stared at her scraped palms. She’d removed the bulky bandages, but she had only to glance at her hands and the shock of the afternoon returned. The screeching tires, the screams-both those of the bystanders and the ones in her head.

Someone had tried to kill her. It still hadn’t completely sunk in.

Someone had killed two women. That hadn’t completely sunk in either.

Someone had taken Bailey. Although she’d known it, knowing blood had been spilled made it more real. She thought about the house. Now that she was no longer there, she could consider the event with a bit more objectivity.

“Nobody ever asked me before,” she murmured, then realized she’d said it aloud.

Daniel pulled back to look at her face. “Asked you what?”

She met his eyes. “What they screamed.”

His blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Really? That surprises me. So… did you know what they said before, or did you just remember today?”

I hate you. I wish you were dead. She looked away. “I knew before, but standing there… it was so clear. I could hear her voice again. Like it was yesterday.”

His hand moved under her hair to cup the back of her head, his thumb finding the exact place in her neck that throbbed. “Who says ‘No’?”

She swallowed hard. “That would be me. I think. I’m not sure.” His thumb continued to work its magic on her neck and a little of the tension ebbed from her shoulders. She dropped her chin to her chest and… absorbed. “You do that well, too.”

His chuckle warmed her. “Good to know.” Too soon he stopped, withdrawing his hand. “Pizza’s here.”

The pan slid across the table and Alex looked up into the face of the waitress, a woman with a harsh face and red lipstick. She looked familiar, but Alex couldn’t place her face. She wore too much makeup and her eyes were hard. She was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five. Her name tag said “Sheila” and her eyes were glued to Daniel’s face, but not in an alluring way. She seemed to be weighing her words.

“You’re Daniel Vartanian,” Sheila finally said flatly.

He was searching her face. “I am,” he said. “But I don’t remember you. I’m sorry.”

Her red lips thinned. “No, you wouldn’t remember me. We ran in slightly different circles. My father worked at the mill.”

Alex’s shoulders stiffened. The paper mill employed half the town at one time or another. Bailey’s father had worked there. That’s where Craig Crighton had been that night. The night her mother needed him. The night I needed my mother. She closed her eyes. Quiet. Be quiet. Daniel’s thumb returned to her neck, applying pressure, and once again the tension began to ebb, making room for other memories to surface.

“You’re Sheila Cunningham,” Alex said. “We sat next to each other in biology.” The year I didn’t finish. The year Alicia died.

Sheila nodded. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

Alex frowned. “There’s a lot I don’t remember.”

Sheila nodded again. “There’s a lot of that going around.”

“What can we do for you, Sheila?” Daniel asked.

Sheila’s jaw tightened. “You were out at Bailey’s house today.”

Meredith looked up, alert and listening. The people in the booth behind them had turned, obviously listening as well. Sheila didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes had narrowed and a vein throbbed in her neck.

“People in this town would have you believe Bailey was a tramp. That she was trashy. But it’s not true.” Sheila aimed a look at Hope. “She was a good mother.”

“You say ‘was,’ ” Daniel said quietly. “Do you know what happened to her?”

“No. If I did, I’d tell you. But I know she didn’t walk away from that kid.” She sucked in her cheeks, visibly fighting to hold whatever she really wanted to say in check. “Everyone’s all upset that those rich girls are dead. Nobody cared about the regular girls. Nobody cares about Bailey.” She looked at Alex. “Except you.”

“Sheila.” The barked order came from the window to the kitchen. “Get back here.”

Sheila shook her head, a mocking smile on her lips. “Oops. Gotta go. Said too much. Wouldn’t want to rock the boat or upset the powers that be.”

“Why?” Daniel asked. “What would happen if you rocked the boat?”

Her red lips twisted in a sneer. “Ask Bailey. Oh, wait. You can’t.” She spun on her heel and went back to the kitchen, smacking the swinging door with the flat of her hand.

Alex leaned back against the bench seat. “Well.”

Daniel was watching the door to the kitchen, which was still swinging. “Well, indeed.” He turned his attention to the pizza, pulling it onto their plates, but there was a troubled frown on his face. “Eat up.”

Meredith pushed a plate under Hope’s downturned face, but the little girl only stared at the food. “Come on, Hope,” she cajoled. “Eat.”

“Has she eaten at all?” Daniel said.

“Eventually she eats if I leave it in front of her long enough,” Meredith answered, “but we’ve only eaten sandwiches. This is our first real meal since I got here.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said. “I haven’t been a very good hostess.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Meredith bit into the pizza and closed her eye in appreciation. “It’s good, Daniel. You were right.”

Daniel took a bite and nodded. “I guess for some things you can go back.” Then he sighed when the door to the outside opened. “Wonderful.”

A big man in an expensive suit crossed the restaurant, scowling. “The mayor,” Alex murmured to Meredith. “Garth Davis.”

“I know,” Meredith murmured back. “I saw his picture in the paper this morning.”

“Daniel.” The mayor stopped at their table. “You promised to call.”

“When I had something to tell you. I don’t have anything to tell you yet.”

The mayor put both hands on the table and leaned forward, getting in Daniel’s face. “You said to give you a day. You said you were working on it. And here you sit.”

“And here I sit,” Daniel said mildly. “Get out of my face, Garth.”

The mayor didn’t budge. “I want an update.” He was speaking loudly, for his audience, Alex thought. His constituency. Politicians.

Daniel leaned in closer. “Get out of my face, Garth,” he murmured, leveling the mayor a look so cold even Alex flinched. “Now.” The mayor slowly straightened and Daniel drew a breath. “Thank you, Mayor Davis. I can appreciate your wanting to have the most recent information. You need to appreciate that even if I had anything to tell you, this isn’t the place for me to share it. I did call your office this afternoon with an update. The phone rang, but no one answered.”

Davis narrowed his eyes. “I was out at Congressman Bowie’s this afternoon. I didn’t get the message. I’m sorry, Daniel.” But his eyes said he was anything but. “I’ll be sure to talk to my aide and find out why he didn’t answer your call.”

“Do that. If you’d still like an update, I’m glad to talk when I’m not in a public place.”

The mayor’s cheeks flushed. “Of course. This has been a terrible day, finding out about Janet and Claudia.”

“And Bailey Crighton,” Alex said coldly.

Mayor Davis had the good grace to look embarrassed. “And Bailey. Of course. Daniel, I’ll be in my office most of the evening. Call me if you would.”

“That’s enough to spoil your appetite,” Alex said when he was gone.

“Alex.” Meredith’s voice was strained and Alex immediately saw why.

Hope had pushed the cheese off the pizza and had smeared sauce all over her own hands and all over her face. She looked like she was covered in blood. And she was rocking in a way that made Alex’s blood run cold.

Daniel was quick to react. He stood up, wiping the sauce from Hope’s face and hands with a napkin. “Hope, honey,” he said, injecting a humor into his voice that Alex knew he didn’t feel. “Look at this mess. And on your pretty new dress, too.”

The couple in the next booth turned around and Alex recognized Toby Granville and his wife. “Can I help?” Toby asked, frowning his concern.

“No, thanks,” Daniel said easily. “We’re just going to take her home and get her cleaned up. You know how kids are.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and Sheila came from the kitchen, a wet towel in her hands.

She’d obviously been watching. As had everyone else in the place.

Daniel handed her a folded-up bill and Alex could see the white edge of his business card poking above the green ink. “Keep the change.” He pulled Alex from the booth and she winced, her knees stiff. But she made her legs move, following Meredith to the door. Daniel scooped Hope up into his arms. “Let’s go, pretty girl. Let’s get you home.”

Alex gave Sheila a last look, then followed Daniel to his car.

In less than five minutes they were back at the bungalow. Meredith ran ahead of them, and when Alex limped across the threshold, Meredith had the Princess Fiona hairstyling head on the table. Meredith took Hope from Daniel’s arms and put her in front of the styling head, then crouched to look into Hope’s face.

“Show us what happened to your mother, Hope,” Meredith said urgently. She grabbed the can of red Play-Doh and shook it out into her palm. “Show us.”

Hope smeared a glob on the Fiona head. She repeated it, until red Play-Doh covered Fiona’s face and hair. When finished she stared at Meredith helplessly.

Alex felt the breath seep from her lungs. “She saw it all.”

“Which means she may have seen who did it,” Daniel said, his voice tight. “We’ll go to the shelter tomorrow, Alex. I want to get Hope in with a forensic artist tonight. Meredith, my boss wanted me to take Hope into our department psychologist tomorrow morning, but I think that needs to be tonight, too.”

Alex bristled. “Meredith is a fine child psychologist. And Hope trusts her.”

But Meredith was nodding. “I’ve gotten too close, Alex. Call your consult, Daniel. I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

Atlanta , Tuesday, January 30, 9:00 p.m.

There were a dozen pretty girls at the bar already, but Mack knew exactly which one he’d be taking home. He’d known for five long years, ever since the night she and her two friends had pulled their cute little trick and taken his life away. They’d thought themselves so clever, so smart. Now Claudia and Janet were so dead. And Gemma would soon follow. A fine buzz of anticipation singed his skin as he approached her. However she responded, her evening would end the same.

Done, dead, and wrapped in a brown wool blanket. Just one more tool to terrify the pillars of Dutton. He leaned against the bar, ignoring the protest of the woman behind him as he crowded her off her stool. He had eyes only for his prize.

Gemma Martin. She’d been his first fuck. He’d be her last. They’d been sixteen and her price had been an hour behind the wheel of his ’Vette. She’d been drunk and put a dent in his left fender that night. She was well on her way to being drunk tonight, and the dent he left would be in her. Mack planned to enjoy his revenge very much.

“Excuse me,” he said over the blare of the band.

She turned her head, sweeping her eyes from his head to his feet in blatant assessment, her eyes sharpening with interest. Five years ago she’d laughed at him. Tonight, she was interested and completely unaware of who he was.

She tilted her head. “Yes?”

“I couldn’t help but notice that gorgeous red Corvette you drove in. I’m thinking of buying one. What do you think of yours?”

Her smile was feline and Mack knew he wouldn’t be needing the little bottle of Rohypnol in his pocket to lure her away. She’d come because she wanted to. It would make her end that much more delicious. “It’s the perfect car. Hot, fast, and dangerous.”

“Sounds like exactly what I’m looking for.”

Atlanta , Tuesday, January 30, 9:00 p.m.

“Please call me if you hear anything,” Daniel said into the phone, then hung up just as Chase came into his office, looking as tired as Daniel felt. Chase had just come from a meeting with the brass and from the look in his eyes, it had not ended well.

“Who was that?” Chase asked.

“ Fort Benning. I’d left a bunch of messages for that army chaplain.”

“The one who came to see Bailey yesterday morning and ended up talking to Alex.”

“Yeah. He’d flown into Benning for his R &R. He was headed south of Albany, to his parents’ house, but he never showed up. Even with his stop in Dutton, he should have been in Albany by suppertime, easily. They’re declaring him missing.”

“Hell, Daniel. Tell me some good news.”

“I think I know where Janet was grabbed. I canvassed the area where the phone call to her boyfriend originated and found a guy behind the counter at a sub shop that remembers her, down to the meatball sub she ordered. They have her on their security tape making the order. Felicity didn’t find the sub in Janet’s stomach contents, so she never ate her dinner. I’m thinking he broke into her minivan and overpowered her when she came out.”

“Did we get the van on camera?”

“Nope. No cameras in the parking lot, only inside. And none of the surrounding businesses have cams either. I checked.”

Chase glared. “Then at least tell me the artist’s making some headway with the kid.”

“The artist isn’t available until tomorrow morning,” Daniel said, holding up a weary hand when Chase started to explode. “Don’t fight with me about it. Both artists are with victims. We’re next in the queue.”

“Then who’s got the kid now?” Chase demanded.

“Chase.” Mary McCrady came into Daniel’s office, giving Chase an admonishing look. “The kid’s name is Hope.”

Daniel had always liked Mary McCrady. She was slightly older than he was, slightly younger than Chase. She had a no-nonsense attitude about the world and never allowed anyone to intimidate her-or any of the patients she took under her wing.

Chase rolled his eyes. “I’m tired, Mary. For the last hour I’ve had my guts sliced and diced by my boss and his boss. Tell me you’ve made progress with Hope.”

Mary lifted a shoulder. “You’re a big boy, Chase. You can take a little slicing and dicing. Hope’s a traumatized child. She can’t.”

Chase started to rant, but Daniel cut him off. “What have you been able to learn, Mary?” Daniel asked calmly, and Mary sat down in one of his chairs.

“Not much. Dr. Fallon did exactly what I would have. She’s used play therapy and made Hope feel safe. I can’t pull anything out of Hope that she’s not ready to let go.”

“So you have nothing.” Chase banged his head against the wall. “Wonderful.”

Mary threw an annoyed glance over her shoulder. “I didn’t say we have nothing. I said we have not much.” She pulled a piece of paper from her folder. “She drew this.”

Daniel studied the page. It was the crude drawing style of a child, one figure prone, the head scribbled over with red. The other figure, male and standing upright, nearly filled the page. “It’s more than we’ve gotten before. Since she was found in that closet on Friday she’s only colored predrawn pictures in coloring books.”

Mary got up and went around to his side of the desk. “As close as we can figure, this is Bailey.” She pointed to the prone figure.

“Yeah, that I got. The red was the giveaway.” He looked up at her from the corner of his eye. “Meredith Fallon told you about the pizza sauce and the Play-Doh, right?”

“Yes.” Mary frowned. “I hated to push this baby this far, but we need to find out exactly what she saw.” She pointed to the figure standing up. “Bailey’s attacker.”

“Well, yeah, I got that, too. He’s huge, three times bigger than Bailey.”

“It’s not the man’s actual size,” Mary said.

“It’s his threat, his power,” Chase said from the door and looked a bit sheepish when Mary looked up, surprised. “I’m not a monster, Mary. I know this kid’s been through hell. But the sooner she gets it out, the sooner you can start… fixing her.”

Mary sighed with affectionate exasperation. “We’ll treat her, Chase. Not fix her.” She looked back down at the picture. “He’s wearing a cap.”

“A baseball cap?” Daniel asked.

“Hard to say. Kids her age only have a limited number of graphic images they can draw. All hats mostly look the same. All figures look the same. But look at his hand.”

Daniel rubbed his eyes and brought the picture close. “A stick. Dripping with blood.”

“Did Ed’s team find any bloody sticks?” she asked.

“They’re still processing the scene,” Daniel said. “They’ve set up lights in the woods, looking for the place where Hope might have hidden. Why’s the stick so small?”

“Because she’s repressing it,” Chase said. “It terrifies her, so she makes it as small as she can in her mind.”

Mary nodded. “Pretty much. I thought you’d want to see this. We broke for the night. After we got this, I was afraid to push her anymore. We can continue tomorrow. Get some rest, Daniel.” One side of her mouth lifted. “Doctor’s orders.”

“I’ll try. Good night, Mary.” When she’d gone, Daniel looked at Hope’s drawing, feeling guilty and torn. “Part of me wants all three of them in a safe house, Alex, Hope, and Meredith. But so far Hope and Alex are our only link to whoever’s orchestrating this. If we hide them away…”

Chase nodded. “I know. I increased the police presence. Twenty-four-seven. That’s part of what was on the agenda in this last meeting.”

“That should settle Alex’s mind. And mine. Thank you, Chase.”

“Mary’s right. Get some sleep, Daniel. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll have Ed meet us at eight,” Daniel said, mentally calculating how long the commute would be from Dutton to the GBI building with morning traffic. Because even with the police presence outside, Daniel wasn’t taking any chances. There was a sofa in the bungalow’s living room. He’d be sleeping there tonight.

Tuesday, January 30, 9:00 p.m.

His cell phone rang. The one that wasn’t registered in his name. He didn’t have to look at the caller ID. He was the only one who ever called this number.

“Yeah.” He sounded tired to his own ears. Because he was. Body and… soul. If he still had a soul. He remembered the look in Rhett Porter’s eyes. Help me.

“Is it done?” His voice was cold and would suffer no weakness.

So he straightened his spine. “Yeah. Rhett went up in a blaze of glory.”

He grunted. “Shoulda fed him to the gators like you did DJ.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. I didn’t have time to get down to the swamp and back. Look, I’m tired. I’m going home and-”

“No, you’re not.”

He wanted to sigh, but he sucked it in. “And why not?”

“Because you’re not finished.”

“I’ll take care of Fallon. I’ve already got plans in motion. Discreet plans.”

“Good, but now there’s more. Vartanian went out to dinner tonight with Alex Fallon and Bailey’s kid.”

“The kid’s talking?”

“No.” There was an angry pause. “But she covered her face in pizza sauce. Like she was covered in blood.”

He froze, his mind wildly searching for an explanation. “That’s impossible. She was in the closet. She didn’t see anything.”

“Then maybe she’s psychic.” The words were biting and harsh. “But Bailey’s kid saw something, Sweetpea.”

His gut twisted. “No.” She’s just a child. He’d never… “She’s only a little girl.”

“If she saw you, you’re fucked.”

“She didn’t see me.” Desperation clawed at his throat. “I was outside.”

“Then you went inside.”

“But all she would have seen is me trashing the place. I grabbed Bailey outside.”

“And I’m telling you a restaurant full of people saw that kid cover her face in sauce.”

“Kids do that. Nobody’ll think anything of it.”

“On its own, perhaps not.”

“What else?” he asked dully.

“Sheila Cunningham.”

He closed his eyes. “What did she say?”

“Mostly that Bailey wasn’t the trashy slut everyone’s made her out to be. And that while everyone is upset about the rich girls’ being dead, that nobody cared about the regular girls, that nobody cares about Bailey.”

“That’s all?” He felt marginally better. “So she didn’t say anything.”

“Weren’t you listening to me?”

“Yes, I was,” he said, defensive now. “What are you talking about?”

There was total silence on the other end, and in the quiet, the words clicked.

“Oh, hell.”

“Yeah. And you can bet good old Danny boy heard it, too. He’s no idiot.”

He absorbed the barb. “So did he talk any more with Sheila?”

“Not yet. He whisked Bailey’s kid out of there so fast it made everybody’s head spin. But he did give Sheila his card.”

Fuck. “Were you there?”

“Yes. I saw it all. And people are talking all over town.”

“Has Vartanian gone back to talk to Sheila again?”

“Not yet. They took the kid back to the place the Fallon woman is renting, then fifteen minutes later all four of them piled in Vartanian’s car and headed out of town.”

“Wait. I thought you said there were three.”

“You don’t know what’s going on in your own town, do you? The Tremaine woman’s brought her cousin in to help her take care of the kid. The woman’s a kid shrink.”

What little hope he had of being able to control what happened next fizzled and died. “You want them all gone?”

“Discreetly. If Vartanian knows they’re dead, he won’t stop till he finds out who did it. So make it look like they all just went home.”

“He’ll find out sooner or later.”

“And by then I will have dealt with him. Take care of Sheila first, then the other three. Call me when you’re done.”

Tuesday, January 30, 11:30 p.m.

Mack looked up from the ’Vette’s engine to where Gemma Martin lay on his makeshift garage floor, wide-eyed, hog-tied, and terrified. “You’ve kept the engine well maintained,” he said with approval. “This one I believe I’ll keep.” He had buyers already lined up for the Z and the Mercedes. It was one of the few perks of being inside. You met all kinds of helpful people.

“Who are you?” she said hoarsely and Mack laughed.

“You know who I am.”

She shook her head. “Please. If it’s money you want…”

“Oh, I want money and I’ve got a good bit of yours.” He held up the cash he’d found in her purse. “Once I carried around a wad like this. But times change and tables turn.” Feeling a bit like one of the old Mission: Impossible agents, he peeled off the thin latex with which he’d covered his cheeks. Along with makeup, it had allowed him to hide his one identifying feature.

Gemma’s eyes widened even more. “No. You’re in prison.”

He chuckled. “Obviously not anymore, but logic was never your strong suit.”

“You killed Claudia and Janet.”

“And didn’t they deserve it?” he said mildly. He sat down on the floor next to her. “And don’t you?”

“We were kids.”

“You were bitches. Tonight you’ll be a dead bitch.” He pulled his switchblade from his pocket and began cutting away her clothes. “You three thought you were so clever.”

“We didn’t mean any harm,” she cried.

“What did you think would happen, Gemma?” he said, still mildly. “I asked you to the prom, you agreed. But you didn’t want to go. I was no longer of your class.”

“I’m sorry.” She was crying now, huge terrified tears.

“Well, it’s too late for that now, even if I were so inclined to accept. Which I’m not. Do you remember that night, Gemma? Because I do. I remember picking you up in my sister-in-law’s old car because it was all we had left to drive. I expected you to offer your own car. I should have been suspicious when you didn’t. I remember meeting your friends. Then I don’t remember anything else until I woke up hours later, naked at a rest stop a hundred miles away. My car was gone and so were you and your friends.”

“We didn’t mean anything,” she said, choking on her sobs.

“Yes, you did. You meant for me to be humiliated and I was. I remember what happened after that. I remember waiting in the bushes until a man about my size stopped to use the john. I stole his car so that I could get home. He came back while I was still hot-wiring his engine. He and I fought and I was so angry at you that I beat him unconscious. I hadn’t made it five miles before the cops pulled me over. Assault, battery, grand theft. I did four years because nobody in Dutton would help me. Nobody would help my mother raise the bail. Nobody helped me get a decent lawyer.

“You didn’t mean anything,” he finished coldly. “But you took everything. Now, I get to take your everything.”

“Please,” she sobbed. “Please don’t kill me.”

He laughed. “When the pain gets so bad, you scream that for me, sugar.”

Dutton, Tuesday, January 30, 11:30 p.m.

Daniel pulled into the bungalow’s driveway. The car had been silent since they’d left Atlanta. In the back Meredith and Hope slept soundly. Beside him, Alex had been awake and deep in troubled thought. Several times he’d almost asked what was wrong, but the question was ludicrous. What wasn’t wrong? Alex’s life had fallen apart once. It was doing so again. And I’m about to make it a million times worse for her.

Because the silence had given him time to finally think, to start pulling pieces together, and a single phrase wouldn’t leave him alone. It had been pushed to the back of his mind with the appearance of Garth Davis and Hope’s breakthrough. The phrase had come from Shelia at the pizza parlor, bitterly delivered through her red lips.

Nobody cared about the regular girls. Cared. Sheila the waitress had used the present tense when talking about “the rich girls” and Bailey. Everybody’s upset about the rich girls. Nobody cares about Bailey.

But nobody cared about the regular girls. He was starting to understand. When he’d first looked at Sheila’s face, he’d seen something he’d recognized. First he thought he’d known her from school. But that’s not where he’d seen her before.

He killed the engine and the silence became complete, except for the rhythmic breathing from the backseat. Alex’s gaze moved to the unmarked police car parked on her curb, her profile silvered from the pale light of the moon. Delicate, was the way he had described her in his mind yesterday morning. She looked fragile now. But he knew she was neither. Alex Fallon might be stronger than any of them. He hoped she was strong enough to endure what he knew he could keep secret no longer.

He’d wait until Meredith and Hope slept. Then he’d tell her and accept whatever her reaction would be. Whatever penance he’d have to do. But she had a right to know.

“Your boss moved quickly,” she murmured, referring to the unmarked car.

“It’s either this or a safe house. Do you want a safe house, Alex?”

She looked to the backseat. “For them, maybe, but not for me. If I hide, I can’t look for Bailey, and I think I’m getting close.” She dropped her eyes to her palms. “Or, at least, somebody doesn’t want me looking. Which, unless I’ve watched too much television, means I’m making somebody nervous.”

She was speaking in her cool voice. She was afraid. But he couldn’t lie to her. “I think that’s a fair assumption. Alex…” He let out a quiet breath. “Let’s go inside. There are things you need to know.”

“Like what?”

“Let’s go inside.”

She grabbed his arm, then flinched and pulled her scraped palm away. “Tell me.”

Her eyes had widened and in them he saw her fear. He shouldn’t have said anything until they were inside and alone. But he had, so he’d tell her what he could now, just to get her in the house. “Beardsley is missing.”

Her mouth fell open. “I just saw him yesterday.” Pained understanding filled her eyes. “Somebody’s been watching me since then.”

“I think that’s a fair assumption, too.”

She pursed her lips. “You need to know something, too. While Dr. McCrady was in with Hope, I called Bailey’s best friend from the salon. Her name is Sissy. I’d been trying to call off and on all day, but I never got through. I just got her answering machine. So I used one of the phones there at your office. She picked up right away.”

“You think she was avoiding your phone number?”

“I know she was. When I told her who I was, she got defensive. I asked her if I could come talk to her about Bailey and she said she didn’t really know Bailey all that well. That I should talk to one of the other girls at the salon.”

“But the owner said she was Bailey’s best friend?”

“He said Bailey stayed over at her house every Saturday night. And the social worker said Sissy was the one to come to Bailey’s house on Friday.”

“Somebody got to her then,” Daniel said.

“Sissy has a daughter, old enough to babysit Hope when Bailey worked on Saturdays.” Alex bit her lower lip. “If somebody threatened Sissy, and Beardsley’s missing, maybe Sister Anne and Desmond are in danger, too.”

Daniel reached over and pressed his thumb to her lip, smoothing away the marks her teeth had left behind. “I’ll have a unit go by the shelter and Desmond’s house.” He pulled his hand away. He’d wanted to hold her all day. The quiet had just intensified his need. “Let’s get Hope into bed. It’s late.”

Alex had the back door open and was reaching for Hope, but Daniel gently nudged her aside. “You unlock the front door. I’ll carry her in.” He shook Meredith’s shoulder and she jerked awake, blinking. He unlocked the child seat and lifted Hope into his arms. She cuddled against his shoulder, too exhausted to be afraid.

He followed Alex into the bungalow, conscious of the agents Chase had assigned to watch. He’d known and trusted Hatton and Koenig for years. He gave them a nod as he passed. He’d come back out and talk to them in a few minutes.

Riley sat up when they came in, immediately padding over to follow them.

Alex led him to the bedroom on the left. Gently he laid Hope on the bed and slipped off her shoes. “Do you want to change her into her pajamas?” he whispered.

She shook her head. “It won’t hurt her to sleep in her clothes,” she whispered back.

Daniel pulled the blanket to cover Hope, then brushed a golden curl from her face, flushed with sleep. He swallowed. The pizza sauce had stained her skin and hair. It still looked like blood. Carefully, he brushed the curl back, hiding the stain.

He already had too many disturbing images in his mind. He didn’t need to add a bloody four-year-old to the mix.

“I sleep in here, too,” Alex whispered, standing by the other side of the bed. Daniel looked at the crisp white sheets, then back at Alex, who was giving him a pointed stare.

Daniel frowned. “You’re going to sleep now?” he asked.

“I guess not. Come on.” She turned at the door and her brows lifted. “Oh, look.”

Riley had climbed up onto a suitcase and was struggling to pull himself onto the chair that sat next to Hope’s side of the bed. “Riley,” Daniel whispered. “Get down.”

But Alex gave Riley the needed boost to the chair. From there the hound scrabbled to the bed, padded to Hope’s side, and flopped on his stomach with one of his big sighs.

“Riley, get out of that bed,” Daniel whispered, but Alex shook her head.

“Leave him. If she wakes up with bad dreams, at least she won’t be alone.”

Dutton, Tuesday, January 30, 11:30 p.m.

He tugged at his tie and settled into the seat, but a big man could only get so comfortable keeping watch from his car. His sister Kate was home from work now, her sensible Volvo parked safely in her garage. He could see her moving around inside her house, window to window, feeding her cat, hanging up her coat.

He planned to sit in front of her house every single night until this was over. He’d followed her from town, careful to stay far enough back so that she didn’t see him. If she did see him, he’d admit to being worried about her safety. But there was no way he could tell her she was a target. If he did, she’d want to know how he knew.

She couldn’t know. No one could know. And no one would know if he just kept his head down and his mouth shut. Both women had been killed between 8:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m. Both women had been taken from their cars, so he’d just stick to Kate like glue while she drove home from work and watch over her during the night. During the day she was safe enough, he thought, surrounded by people at her job.

Thoughts of the yearbook photos intruded into his mind. Ten pictures, the two already X-ed out. He’d been trying to push them away all night. It was a clear warning. Seven other women besides Kate had been on that paper. Seven other women were targets. He could have turned that photocopy over to Vartanian, could have saved those other seven. But he thought of his sister Kate. His wife. His children. And knew given the opportunity, he’d burn the paper again. They could never know.

If he’d given the paper to Vartanian, Daniel would have wondered why he’d been the recipient of the warning. Even if he’d sent it anonymously, Daniel would have seen the circle around Kate’s picture and wondered why his sister had been singled out.

You could have cut Kate’s picture away and sent the rest. You could have protected those other seven women. You should have protected them.

And chance that Vartanian’s GBI lab would find his fingerprints on the rest of the paper after he’d cut it apart? No, it was too big a chance. Besides, Vartanian would have started to dig, and God only knew what he’d unearth.

If one of those other seven women dies, their blood will be on your hands.

Then so be it. He had his own family to protect. If the families of the other women who’d gone to school with Janet and Claudia were smart, they’d be protecting their women, too. But they don’t know what you know.

He’d done things in his life. Horrible, deviant things. But he’d never had anyone’s blood on his hands before. Yes, you have. Alicia Tremaine. Alicia’s face whipped into his mind, and the memory of that night thirteen years ago.

But we didn’t kill her. But they had raped her. All of them had. All except Simon. He’d just taken the pictures. Simon had always been a sick bastard that way.

And you weren’t? You raped that girl, and how many others?

He closed his eyes. He’d raped Alicia Tremaine and fourteen others. They all had. Except for Simon. He’d just taken the pictures.

And where were the pictures?

The thought had haunted him for thirteen years. The pictures had been locked away, insurance that none of them would tell what they’d all done. Damn stupid kids that they’d been. Nothing he could ever do would erase what they’d done. What I did.

Every hideous thing he’d done. Recorded in those pictures. When Simon had died the first time they’d all been relieved and terrified at the same time that the pictures would surface, but they never had and the years had passed. Uneasily.

They’d never spoken of the pictures again, or the club, or the things they’d done. Not until DJ became a drunk. And disappeared.

Just like Rhett had disappeared tonight. He knew Rhett was dead. Rhett had been ready to talk and he’d been disposed of. Just like DJ.

I, on the other hand, am smart enough to keep my mouth shut and my head down until this is all over. Back then, the pictures had ensured their silence. If one went down, they’d all go down. But now, all these years later… They were no longer stupid kids. They were grown men with respectable jobs. And families to protect.

But now, all these years later… somebody was killing their women. Women who thirteen years ago had been innocent little girls. The girls you raped were innocent girls, too. Innocent. Innocent. Innocent.

“I know.” He spat the words aloud, then whispered, “God, don’t you think I know?”

Now, all these years later, somebody else knew. They knew about the key, so they knew about the club and they must know about Simon’s pictures, too. It wasn’t one of them, not one of the four that remained. No, not four. He thought about Rhett Porter. Rhett was dead. The three that remained. None of them would do this.

That this whole nightmare began one week after Simon Vartanian’s real death could not be a coincidence. Could Daniel have found Simon’s pictures?

No. Not a chance. If Daniel Vartanian had the pictures, he’d be investigating.

He is investigating, you idiot.

No, he’s investigating the murders of Janet and Claudia.

So Daniel didn’t know. That meant somebody else did. Somebody who wanted money. Somebody who’d killed two women to show them he meant business. Somebody who’d threatened to kill more if they didn’t listen.

So he’d listened. He’d followed the instructions that had come with the photocopy of the yearbook photos. He’d had a hundred thousand dollars transferred to an offshore account. There would be another demand for more money, he thought. And he’d continue to pay whatever he needed to ensure his secret stayed exactly that. Secret.