New York to Dallas (34 page)

She hesitated outside Melinda’s door. Should she knock? she wondered. Instead she shifted to look through the small window, saw both sisters in the narrow hospital bed. Oddly it was the cop who slept, an arm around her sister’s waist.

Eve eased the door open.

“Lieutenant Dallas.” Melinda spoke quietly, smiled. “She’s so tired. I don’t think she slept since . . . Our parents just went to get us both some fresh clothes, some things. They really want to see you again, to thank you again.”

“There are a lot of people to thank. I’m surprised Detective Price isn’t hovering.”

A pretty little light came into Melinda’s eyes. “I said something about pizza. My favorite place is over in our neighborhood. He went to get me some—wouldn’t take no.”

“It helps to have something to do.”

“I know. Just as I know Bree and Jayson will go back to work when they’re sure I’m all right. I’m all right, but they’re not sure.”

“I can come back later. No point waking her up.”

“I’m awake.” Bree’s eyes fluttered open. “Sorry, I went out for a minute.” She sat up, took her sister’s hand.

It was like looking at slightly altered dupes, Eve thought. Not exact, not identical, but damn near.

“It’s like a replay,” Bree began. “It’s not, not even close for the two of us. But you came in the hospital room before.”

“And the two of you were in the same bed. I remember. You were asleep that time,” Eve said to Melinda.

“It was weeks before I could sleep without Bree holding on to me. You look tired.”

“I guess we all are.”

“Would you sit? We can get you some coffee, something to eat.”

“I grabbed something.” But she sat on the side of the bed as Melinda indicated. “Do you want to go over it again?”

“Darlie needs to. I used you and Bree, over and over, to give her hope, to give her something to hold on to. He didn’t rape me. He only hit me once in anger, and that was almost an afterthought. They kept me drugged at first, but I stopped drinking the water. He killed his partner. I saw—”

“Yes.”

“Sarajo—well, that’s how I knew her. I keep asking myself why I didn’t see she was a liar, that she’d duped me.”

“She was a pro.”

“I wanted to help her, and thought I had. When she contacted me again, so shaky, so urgent, I didn’t think twice. I played right into it.”

“Do you need me to tell you it’s not your fault?”

“No. I had plenty of time to replay it, rethink it. You have to trust, or you’re only living half a life. You have to try to help or even that half is empty. I believed her. I was concerned because I suspected she was on something, but I thought it was because she was so frightened. I let her into my car, I drove away from the diner where we’d agreed to meet because she asked me to. I pulled over because she asked me to.

“I never saw it coming. I felt it.” Melinda lifted a hand to the side of her neck. “And still I didn’t understand. Not until he was there. Right there.”

She closed her eyes a minute, then laid a hand over Eve’s. “I thought of you. Of Bree, then of you when I woke up in that room. In the dark, like before. But it wasn’t like before. I was alone, an adult.”

She opened her eyes. “This time I was bait. He made that clear, let me know he wasn’t interested in me like before. I wasn’t . . . fresh enough. He had her bring me food most of the time. Once she stood there, ate it in front of me. She hated me. I think she hated me most of all because I’d tried to help her.”

“Sick, twisted bitch,” Bree stated, and Eve said nothing. Could say nothing.

“She hated everything about me, and you,” Melinda said to Eve. “She taunted me with you. How they were going to lock you in there, how they were going to hurt you, teach you a lesson for what you did. How they were going to make a fortune selling you—Are you all right?” she asked when Eve jerked.

“Yeah. Fine.”

“I should’ve said
pretending
to sell you. I think she wanted you dead as much as he did, maybe more. She was obsessed with him. And couldn’t see, just couldn’t see how he despised her. She couldn’t see his contempt. He let me see it, like it was our little private joke. Then they brought Darlie.”

Tears shimmered now, and Bree brought Melinda’s hand to her cheek.

“He made sure I knew he was going after a girl—that’s a kind of torture. Sarajo threw her in after they’d finished with her. They left the lights on so I could see what they’d done to her.”

“Having you there helped her.”

“It’s a horrible thing, but having her helped me. Someone who needed me, someone I could comfort and counsel and tend to. When he came back for Darlie the next day, I did everything I could to distract him. She wasn’t there, the partner. I’d studied him, so I used that. I got him to talk to me—to
converse.
He enjoyed it, and sat there for a long time, showing off his knowledge of literature, art.”

“Did he tell you anything personal? Anything he planned, anything that could tell us where he’d go?”

“I don’t think so. It was all this lofty, cocktail-party sort of conversation. I kept it that way. I was afraid if I asked him anything, he’d remember Darlie.”

“What was he wearing?”

“Oh . . . ah.”

“Try to think back,” Eve prompted, “picture him there.”

“A crewneck with the sleeves pushed up. Very classic, and navy blue. Casual pants, but good ones. Buff colored, I think. Yes, with an embossed brown belt and silver buckle.” Her forehead creased as she concentrated. “Silver buckles on his shoes. They matched the belt. He had a leather sheath on the belt. Once I wondered if I could get him to come over, somehow get the knife out of the sheath.

“It had initials on it, the sheath. I’d forgotten that.”

“What initials?”

“His. I. M. I am,” she murmured. “He must love that.”

“On it,” Bree said before Eve could speak, and rolled out of bed, already pulling out her ’link.

“Did you notice anything else? Jewelry?”

“Silver wrist unit. It looked like a good one. A monogrammed leather sheath. You can trace that. I
know
that.” Frustration vibrating, Melinda pressed a hand to the side of her head. “I didn’t think before.”

“Give yourself a break,” Eve suggested. “You held on, and more, you held him off from taking the kid for another round.”

“He got bored. I’d amused him for a while, but he knew what I was doing. He would have taken her, but the partner contacted him. He looked puzzled at first, let it go to v-mail. Then he was furious. He didn’t rage, but he was so angry. He took out the knife. I knew he meant to kill us, but he just stood there.”

“Stood there?”

“Just stood there for a minute, looking blank, looking like someone who’d lost their train of thought or forgotten what they’d meant to do next.”

Eve’s eyes sharpened. “He wasn’t sure what to do?”

“Yes, but it was more like he couldn’t remember, or couldn’t decide. Then he just turned around and walked out, locked us in again. I kept waiting for him to come back, to come back with the knife. That was the worst of all of it. Waiting for him to come back with the knife, and knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop him.”

She fought off a shudder. “Why didn’t he come back?”

“The extra time, extra mess, lack of interest. The sudden, unexpected change in plans.” Eve hesitated, then decided Melinda deserved the full truth. “And he knows you won’t forget him, either of you. That’s important to him.”

“He marked her.” Melinda laid her fingertips on her heart. “And me, again. We can have it erased, like I did before. But it’s always going to be there.”

“You got through it. So will she.”

“I hope you’re right. You never get over it. You can’t. So you have to get through it. She’s one of us now, poor little girl. One of his numbers.”

“You’re not a number, Melinda, to anyone but him. You should remember that. Remember he tried to make you one twice, but he couldn’t.” Eve got to her feet. “And when he’s back in prison, go see him again, and show him that.”

“Will you talk to Darlie now?”

“Yeah. If you remember anything else, just let me know.”

When she stepped out into the hall, Bree walked up to her. “We’re tracing the leather sheath. It’s a good lead.”

“Look at the clothes, too. The belt and shoes especially. She bought some of the wardrobe for him, but he’d want to shop for himself after being caged. Browse, touch fabrics. Maybe he did a little shopping when he went to the bank. He might want to replace some of the things he had to leave behind.”

“I’ll work from here. They’re bringing in a cot so I can stay with her tonight. It’s not likely he’ll come back for either of them, but—”

“He won’t be back, but why take chances? Stay with your sister.” She crossed the hall, turned back. “He’s not as smart as he thinks he is, not this time. He’s caught up in being out, in being free as much as by the plans he made. He wants his fashionable wardrobe, his good wines. He needs them after being denied for so long. He can’t stay under long, it’s like being back in a cage.”

“And he’ll want another girl.”

“Yeah.”

Thinking of that, Eve opened the door to Darlie’s room.

The mother sat on the bed, an arm curved around Darlie’s shoulder, with the father flanking the other side. Eve’s entrance had interrupted. She could see the father desperately trying to make Darlie smile or laugh.

Tears shimmered in his eyes as he turned toward Eve.

“I’m Lieutenant Dallas.”

“I remember.” The mother stood up. “You were at the mall when . . . I remember. We’re so grateful, my husband and I, and Darlie.”

“I saw you. You came in the room.” Darlie’s gaze fixed on Eve. “You came in, and you said we were safe.”

“You are safe now.”

“Melinda said you’d come.” Her fingers fretted with the hospital sheet. “Where’s Melinda?”

“She’s right across the hall.”

“Did you find him yet? Did you find him and put him back in jail?”

“Working on it.”

Darlie took a little sobbing breath that had her father’s face crumbling, and her mother moving in to take her hand.

“I’d like to speak with Darlie alone.”

“She’s already gone over everything,” Mr. Morgansten began. “She really needs to—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Daddy. I want to talk to her. Melinda said. It’s okay.”

“We’ll give you a little time.” Mrs. Morgansten stood up, hovered a moment. “Let’s go outside,” she suggested to her husband.

“I . . . We’ll go get you that ice cream,” he said to Darlie. “How’s that?”

“Okay.”

“Fudge Sludge, right? Your fave. You’re a slave to your fave.”

“That’s the best.”

“We won’t be long.” He bent down, kissed her. When he turned to go, the look he sent Eve was a painful morass of guilt and grief and terrible hope.

“My dad’s been crying,” Darlie said when they were alone. “He tries not to, but he can’t help it. He’s trying to make it better, but he can’t.”

Faced with the girl’s misery and exhausted pain, Eve missed Peabody like a limb. Her partner would know what to say, how to say it, how to reach both the child and her parents.

“I can’t tell my dad what he did to me. I can’t talk about it, not to my dad. I want to tell my mom, but I don’t know how. I was stupid, so it’s my fault. I can’t tell them.”

“How were you stupid?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to people I don’t know, like that woman. If I hadn’t—”

“She was nice,” Eve began. “She looked nice, normal. And you were right in the store, with lots of other people around, your friend right in the dressing room.”

“She said she was going to buy a present for somebody—I can’t remember. It was a really mag dress, and she just wanted to ask me if I liked it. It’s all mixed up.”

“I bet your parents taught you to be polite to adults.”

“Sure, but—”

“And you were in a store you know, with other people, the salespeople, your friend. And a nice woman asked you a question. You weren’t stupid to answer it, and she counted on you being polite, being raised well. It’s not your fault she wasn’t nice. None of it’s your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything to deserve what happened to you.”

“You don’t understand.” The tears started, slow, thick drops sliding down her cheeks. “The other police don’t understand. You can’t.”

“Yes, I can.”

Darlie shook her head, fierce now. “You
can’t.
You don’t
know
.”

“I do know.”

Eve’s tone had Darlie swiping at tears, staring at her. Then her lips trembled. “Was it him? Was it Isaac?”

“No. It was someone like him.”

“You got away? They came and saved you?”

Blood on her hands, her face, her arms. Wet and warm. “I got away.”

“How are you okay? How can you be okay? I’m never going to be.”

“Yes, you will. You’ve already started. You told your father you wanted ice cream, but you don’t. You said it because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, because you want him to be all right.” She picked up a brush from the table beside the bed. “I bet you let your mother brush your hair, because she needed to do something for you.”

“It felt good when she did.”

“You’ve already started,” Eve repeated. “It won’t be quick and it won’t be easy. You’ll want it to be. They’ll want it to be. It won’t. The ones who tell you it will are the ones who can’t understand. I guess that’s not their fault, but it’s annoying and . . . it hurts some, too.”

Tears spilled as Darlie nodded her head, quick and hard.

“You’ll be pissed, you’ll be scared,” Eve continued in the same easy, matter-of-fact tone. “Now and again you’ll go back to thinking it’s your fault, which is bullshit.”

“Everybody’s going to look at me different.”

“Probably, for a while anyway. They’ll feel sorry for you, and sometimes you’ll hate that. Really hate it because you just want everything to be like it was. It’s not going to be.”