Lido, Illinois Friday, December 1, 2:15 p.m.
He'd forgotten how much he hated the sight of corn. Miles of corn. As a boy it had mocked him, swaying so gently, as if everything were all right with the world. This place, this house, this corn… had become Shane's grave.
They'd rebuilt the house on the same foundation. The new place was bright and cheerful. A kid's tricycle was in the yard and a young woman moved around inside. He could see her when she passed in front of the window as she went about her chores.
Chores. He'd hated the farm chores. Hated the man who'd brought him here so that he could have another pair of hands for slopping pigs. He hated the woman who'd known what was going on under her own roof and wouldn't help. He hated the younger brother for being a coward. He hated the older brother for… He pursed his lips as a shiver of rage singed his skin. He hated the older brother. He hated Penny Hill for being too stupid to see the truth from the beginning and too lazy to ever come back and check on them.
Penny Hill had paid for her sins. The Young family was about to get the same. He got out of his newest car as the young woman came out the front door, a toddler on her hip. She stopped the minute she saw him, afraid.
He smiled his most pleasant smile. "I'm sorry ma'am. I didn't mean to startle you. I was looking for a friend. He lived here and we lost touch. His name is Tyler Young."
He knew exactly where Tyler Young was. In Indianapolis selling real estate. But he didn't know where the other Youngs were. The woman stayed where she was, her hand on the knob of her front door, ready to flee. Smart woman.
"We bought this place from the Youngs four years back," she said. "The husband had died and the wife didn't want the farm anymore. I don't know about the boys."
The rage fanned hotter. Another dead befoie he could mete his revenge. Still he kept his face calm, slightly disappointed. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'd like to visit Mrs. Young, pay my respects. Do you know where she is?"
"Last I heard, she had to go in a nursing home in Champaign. I have to go." She slipped inside. He could see her fingers on the window blinds as she watched him.
He got back in his car. Champaign was less than an hour away.
Chicago, Friday, December 1, 4:20 P.M.
"My eyeballs are going to fall out." Fatigue and a headache made Mia petulant.
"What did you come up with?" Solliday asked, stifling a yawn.
"Of the twenty-two kids Penny placed with the Doughertys, three are dead, two in jail and six are still in foster care. On the others, I've got current addresses on two."
He ran a thumb down the side of his goatee. "Any come from Detroit?"
"Not that any of the birth records show." She stood and stretched, then dropped her arms to her sides when she saw his eyes following her movements. "Sorry."
"Quite all right," he murmured. "Don't stop on my account."
She wouldn't let herself smile. Equal terms. She came around his side of the desk. He'd been checking phone records for the Beacon Inn. "What did you find?"
"The hotel gets a hell of a lot of phone calls. None trace to Hope Center, but I didn't think they would. I figured if he called for the Doughertys, it would have been on a disposable cell or from a phone locally. These are the numbers I'm still working."
Mia ran her finger down the list. "This one's from where Murphy's searching."
He typed the number into the reverse lookup screen. "You've got a good eye, Mia. It's a pay phone." He dialed the hotel and put it on the speaker.
"Beacon Inn, this is Chester. How can I help you?"
"Chester, this is Lieutenant Solliday with the OFI. Detective Mitchell and I are here with another question for you. We're showing a phone call to your front desk at 4:38 p.m. Tuesday. It may have been someone trying to get the Doughertys' room number."
"No one would have given it out," he said. "It's against our policy."
"Chester, this is Detective Mitchell. Can you find out who took the call?"
"Tuesday afternoon would have been Tania Sladerman. You can't talk to her. She didn't show up for…" He trailed off. "Oh my God. She didn't show up for work today."
Solliday's glance was sharp. "Give us her address. Now."
Friday, December 1, 5:35 p.m.
"Hell, Reed." Mia stood in Tania Sladerman's bedroom, staring at the dead woman as the ME techs lifted her to the gur-ney and zipped the bag. "This is ten."
The assistant manager for the Beacon Inn had been raped, her hands and feet bound. Legs broken. Throat cut. "I hope that's what he was counting, Mia, because then he'd be done. But I don't think so."
"She's been here since Wednesday morning. Why didn't anyone miss this woman?" Emotion made her voice unsteady and she cleared her throat. "Check on her?"
He wanted to put his arm around her, but couldn't. "Let me take you home."
She straightened her spine. "I'm okay. I'll get a ride back to the precinct with CSU. You go home, Reed. You've got a daughter who wants to see your pretty face."
He frowned. "I don't think so. She and I had a pretty big argument yesterday."
"About what?"
"A party this weekend. Jenny Q's. I didn't like her attitude, so I said she couldn't go."
"Tough love. Go home, Reed. Spend some time with her. I'll call you if anything comes up." He hesitated and she gave him a little push. "I mean it. Go. It would make me feel better to know you and Beth were working things out. She needs her father."
She started walking toward Tania's front door and he knew she was dismissing him. He wasn't ready to go yet. "What about you and Olivia?" he asked, very quietly.
"We've been trading voicemails. I think we're going to try to get together tonight. I'll call you either way. I promise."
She leaned a little, teetering on her feet and he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, give her comfort. Take a little comfort back.
He dropped his voice. "I found my key to the other side." Her eyes flashed with awareness and memory. Satisfied he'd sufficiently enticed her into keeping her promise, in his normal voice he said, "All right. I'll see you tomorrow."
Friday, December 1, 6:20 p.m.
Aidan was gone when she got back, but Murphy was there, typing his report in his slow hunt-and-peck way. "Reed was right," Murphy said. "There were three pet stores in the area. Two of them had vet offices either inside or nearby. Petsville was my last stop-and guess what their supply closet was missing?"
"D-turbo-whatever-stuff. Amazon jungle poison," she said and he grinned.
"You get the prize. After threatening them with a subpoena, I finally got a list of employees and just finished mapping their addresses. These people live in a one-mile radius of where we found the car he abandoned after he killed Brooke and Roxanne. He could have easily walked to any of them."
"Fourteen households. I should be able to hit five or six still tonight."
Murphy stood up. "We should."
"Murphy…"
"Mia… You can't go alone. What if you find him?"
She thought about the bodies she'd seen this week. "You're right. If I go alone, I might kill him myself. I should call Solliday, but he's with his kid."
"And you and me have no ties."
She frowned at that. No ties. No strings. "Murphy, do you ever want them?"
He paused in zipping his coat, shot her a grin. "What, ties? Got a closet full of 'em."
She shook her head, her mouth curving despite herself. "I'm serious."
He sobered. "It's starting to get you, isn't it? All your friends pairing off."
Abe, Dana, Jack and Aidan. Now it was down to her and Murphy. "Yeah. You?"
He nodded. "Yeah. But I've been married before." He slung a brotherly arm around her shoulders. "And you know what they say. Fool me once, shame on you."
"Fool me twice, shame on me."
"Come on. Let's go."
Friday, December 1, 6:55 p.m.
The knock at their door broke the silence. His mother looked up, fear in her eyes.
"It's not him, Mom. He has a key." That she'd given him. Why, he didn't understand. But once she had, it had been too late.
She got up, smoothed her hair. And opened the door. "Can 1 help you?"
"We're sorry to bother you, ma'am. My name is Detective Mitchell and this is Detective Murphy. We're searching the neighborhood for this man."
He sneaked around the corner and peeked. All he could see were legs. A pair of shoes and a pair of boots. Smaller. But he could hear them. The lady sounded… nice.
"Is that the man I saw on TV?" his mother asked, her voice small and scared.
"Yes. ma'am," the lady detective said. "Have you seen him?"
"No. I'm sorry. We haven't."
"Well, if you see him, could you please call this number? And don't open your door to him. He's very dangerous."
I know he's dangerous. I know. Please, Mom. Please tell them.
But his mother nodded and took the flyer the detective offered. "If I see him, I'll call," she said and shut the door. She stood for a minute, still except for her fist that crumpled the paper into a ball. Then she went to the sofa, crumpled herself into a ball and cried.
He went to his room, closed the door, and did the same.
Mia leaned against her car, her eyes on the tidy little house.
Murphy leaned beside her. "She knows something," he said. "Yes, she does. And she's terrified. She's got a kid."
"I know. I saw him, peeking around the corner."
"I did, too." She blew out a breath. "He could be in there, right now."
"Looked like the dinner table was only set for two. If he's there, he's hiding. She's a pet store employee, so technically she wouldn't have had access to the vet's office. Just a terrified face probably isn't enough to get us a warrant to search her place."
"Let's check the houses on this street. Maybe somebody saw him. If so, that could be enough for a warrant." She pushed away from the car, when a movement caught her eye.
"Murphy, look up at the window." Little fingers were pulling at the blinds.
"The kid's watching us."
Mia smiled warmly and waved. Immediately the little fingers disappeared and the blinds went flat. Her smile faded. "I want to talk to that kid."
"Then we need to get inside the house. Let's start knockin' on doors."
Friday, December 1, 7:30 P.M.
"Well?" Murphy asked. "I got bubkes"
"Nobody's seen him. Nobody even knew her. One person remembers seeing the kid riding his bike to school. You know, when I was a kid, everybody knew everybody else. You were afraid to do anything bad, scared it would get back to your parents." Mia jangled her car keys in her pocket. "Okay, now what?"
"Now you go home, sleep. I'll stay here and watch. I"ll call you if anything pops."
"I shouldn't let you do that, but I'm too tired to argue with you."
"Which says a lot," Murphy said mildly. "Mia, are you okay?"
They'd been friends a long time. "Not really." To her mortification, tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away. "I must be more tired than I thought."
He caught her arm. "If you need me, you know where to find me."
Her lips quirked up. "Yeah, here, freezing your fool ass off all night. Thanks, Murphy." Murphy was a good friend. Tonight, she wanted more than a friend. Tonight she wanted… more. Strings, the voice in her mind taunted. Go ahead and admit it.
Fine. She wanted strings. But God knew she didn't get everything she wanted.
Friday, December 1, 8:15 p.m.
Mia recognized the car waiting on the curb and wanted to groan. Hell, she wasn't up for a heart-to-heart with little sister tonight. Olivia met her on the sidewalk in front of Solli-day's duplex, holding a pizza box. "So you found me."
"I pulled a few strings, got your partner's address. Hope you don't mind."
Yes, I mind, she wanted to scream. Come back when things… settle down. But they wouldn't settle down and Olivia had to go home soon. And Bobby's other child needed to know the truth. Or some of it anyway.
"No, I don't mind. Come on in." Lauren's place was quiet and dark, but next door she could hear the TV and music. Reed was there. But she'd get through this first.
Reed heard her come in. He'd been sitting in front of the TV, watching something that meant nothing, just waiting for the slam of the door on the other side. Beth was sulking in her room. Lauren was studying. He was alone. And, he admitted, lonely. But Mia was there, on the other side of the wall and even if it was watching her eat leftover meatloaf, he wouldn't be alone when he was with her.
He grabbed the glass bowl from the oven with mitts and slipped out the back door. Cradling the warm bowl under one arm like a football, he reached for the door knob and stopped. She wasn't alone. The other voice belonged to Olivia Sutherland.
He should go home. Give her privacy. But he remembered her eyes as she'd bared her secrets in the night. And how she'd rolled away from him. Alone.
They were two people, wandering through life alone. And he wondered why two intelligent people would insist on making that choice.
Mia led Olivia to the kitchen and took the pizza. "It's stone cold."
"I waited awhile."
Mia sighed. "I'm sorry. This case…"
"I know." Olivia unzipped her jacket and slipped the scarf from her head, looking a little like an old movie actress. Elegant and a little unsure. And so young.
And unspoiled. A shaft of resentment poked her heart and Mia was ashamed. It wasn't Olivia's fault she'd escaped Bobby Mitchell. She slid the pizza onto a pan and into the oven. "So… Minneapolis PD. You're a detective, too."
"I earned my shield last year," she said. "You've been doing this longer."
Mia sat down and nudged the other chair with her foot. "I'm considerably older."
Olivia sat down, her movements graceful. "You're not even thirty-four."
"I feel like seventy today."
"It's a bad case, then."
Ten faces flashed through her mind. "Yeah. But if you don't mind, I don't want to think about it for a while." She looked at Olivia's hand. "You're not married."
"Not yet." She smiled. "Trying to build my career first."
"Hmm. Don't wait too long, okay?"
"Sisterly advice?"
Mia blew out a breath. "Hardly. I did a pretty lousy job of it the first time around."
"You mean Kelsey."
Something in Olivia's eyes made Mia's hackles go up. "You know about her."
"I know she's in prison. Armed robbery." Her tone was mildly judgmental.
Mia clenched her teeth. "She's paying her debt."
"All right."
But it wasn't. It wasn't all right. Nothing was all right today.
"You, on the other hand," Olivia continued, "are a decorated cop and were engaged to a hunky hockey player."
Mia blinked "You've been watching me?"
"Not until recently. I didn't even know about you until recently."
"But you said you hated me all your life."
"I did. But I didn't have a name or face to go with you until he died."
"What did your mother tell you?"
"For years, nothing. We didn't talk about my father and I kept dreaming he was out there, that he'd come for me. When I was eight, Mama told me the truth, or most of it."
There was pain there. Mia wondered just how the truth had come out. "Which was?"
"My mother was nineteen when I was born. She met my father in the bar where she waited tables in Chicago. She said that my father was a good man, a policeman. They started talking and one thing led to another. She thought she was in love, then found out she was pregnant. When she told him, he told her he was married. She hadn't known."
"I believe that," Mia said quietly and watched Olivia's shoulders sag. "You didn't."
"I wanted to. I didn't want to believe my mother would play around with a married man. But knowingly or not, that's what she did. He said he'd leave his wife, marry her."
"But he didn't."
"No. She said after I was born, he came to her and said he couldn't leave his wife and daughters. That he was sorry."
Bobby was sorry she'd been born Olivia and not Oliver, Mia thought, but nodded. "And that's when your mother took you to Minnesota."
"Shortly thereafter. She'd burned some bridges with her own parents. They'd wanted her to give me up for adoption, but she kept me. It was a while before I had a relationship with my grandparents, but eventually things smoothed over. I'd come to Chicago on my summer vacations and look at every cop and wonder, was that him?"
"You didn't know his name?"
"No, not until he died. Mama wouldn't tell me and nobody else seemed to know."
"Is your mother still living?"
Pain flashed in Olivia's blue eyes. "No. She died last year. I thought my father's identity had died with her, but my mother had told her sister. Aunt Didi called me the day his obituary appeared in the paper. I drove straight from the airport to the cemetery."
She sighed. "And then I saw you, standing next to your mother, in your dress uniform. Your mother gave you his flag, then you saw me. You didn't know about me."
"No. It was… quite a shock."
Olivia looked down. "I imagine it was. The first time I saw your name was in the obituary. It didn't mention Kelsey."
"That was my request. The official department obituary had her listed, but I asked them to remove her name. I didn't want anybody to make the connection."
"That makes sense. It can't be good for your career, having a sister in prison."
Mia stiffened. "It's not good for her health having a sister who's a cop. Don't judge Kelsey, Olivia. Not until you know her." Not until you know everything.
"All right. When I saw you, I was shocked. There's some… family resemblance."
"I noticed that," Mia said dryly. "Why didn't you come and talk to me?"
"I was so shocked at first. I didn't know what to do. You were the one I'd hated my whole life. You were the one who got a father. Who got a home. A family. Mama and I, we had nothing. No one. And then to see you, dressed as a cop, looking at me. Looking like me. Afterward, I went to Aunt Didi's house and got on the Internet and found out everything I could about you." She stood up and checked the pizza. "You forgot to turn on the oven." She hit the knob impatiently.
"I'm not a culinary kind of person."
Olivia turned, her eyes now flat. "What kind of person are you?"
"You did the research, kid. You tell me."
She considered it. "I've checked you out thoroughly this week. You're a cop first."
"Last and always," Mia finished, her voice now as flat as Olivia's eyes.
"But you have compassion. Dedication. The reporters hate you, so you must be doing something right." Mia huffed a chuckle at that and Olivia's lips curved. "You have a few close friends, you're intensely loyal. You've had a few boyfriends, and one fiance. He was hot by the way."
"Thank you."
"You've just started a relationship with Lieutenant Solliday and you don't want anyone to know. But I think most people do."
Mia frowned. "What do you mean?"
"It's hard to miss. Big flashing neon sign over your head. 'I like him. Stay back. He's mine.' Oh, I've finally hit a chord. You're blushing. He's hot, too, by the way."
Mia rolled her eyes. "Thank you."
Olivia sobered. "You're welcome." She turned to the fridge, opened it and stared inside, closed it again. "I'm impressed and resentful and jealous, all at once." She turned back around and met Mia's eyes. "Honest enough for you, big sister?"
Mia nodded. "Yeah. But I'm not sure you're going to like it when I return the favor."
Olivia drew a breath calmly. "All right."
"Your father is not the man you wish he was."
Her eyes flickered. "Nobody's perfect."
"No, hut Bobby Mitchell swung to the far left of the bell curve. He drank too much and he hit his kids."
Her eyes narrowed. "No."
"Yes. You know what I thought when I saw you tonight? That I was impressed and resentful and jealous all at once. You may have had nothing, but nothing was better than what we endured in that house."
"How can nothing be better than something?" Olivia asked bitterly.
"I'm a fast healer, which is a good thing, because Bobby had big fists and he used them often. Not so much on me. Mostly on Kelsey. Stitches and broken bones and lies to doctors all over town." Olivia's eyes were horrified. "And that's the truth."
"That's…"
"Horrible? Unbelievable? Irreconcilable?"
"Yes. He can't have…"
"Been that bad? I'm lying?"
She shook her head. "That's not what I meant. Kelsey was a wild kid. Maybe…"
Mia lurched to her feet. "Maybe she deserved it?"
Olivia's chin lifted. "She is in prison, Mia. On a plea."
"Yeah, she is. She ran away from home when she was sixteen. Got mixed up with some bad people. She wasn't lily white, but she wasn't like them."
"But she did it. Look, she's your sister. Of course you'd feel compassion for her."
Mia's throat closed and her eyes filled. "You don't know what I feel."
"You've been a cop long enough to know that people make choices. She chose to run away. And having a father beat her wasn't justification for pulling a gun on a store clerk while her boyfriend killed two people. A father and a little boy are dead and Kelsey is responsible. Surely you can't excuse that."
The blood was pounding in Mia's head. Yep, little sister did read the papers, even the really old ones. "No, I don't, and neither does Kelsey. You might be surprised to learn she hasn't actively petitioned for her parole. She'll serve her time until she's done. And when she's done she'll have spent more than half her life behind bars."
Olivia looked surprised, but her jaw was still hard. "It's what she deserves."
Mia's lips curled. "You have no idea what she deserves. You know nothing."
Olivia's eyes flashed fire. "I know she had a family. A house to live in. Food to eat. A sister who loved her. Which was more than I had and I didn't turn out that way."
Something snapped. "Yeah, and you didn't have a father who traded sex for protection, either." As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Mia wished them back. "Goddammit," she hissed.
Olivia stood there, every ounce of color drained from her face. "What?"
"Hell." Mia grabbed the edge of the sink and hung her head but Olivia yanked her arm until she looked up.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing. I said nothing. We're done. I can't do this anymore."
"Is that what Kelsey told you?"
Everything went still, the implied accusation of Kelsey's lie hovering between them. "Yeah, that's what she told me." She swallowed. "And it's what I know."
Olivia's eyes were dark against her pale face. "That can't be true."
"It's true. Believe what you want about your father, but it's true about mine."
Olivia took a step back, trembling. "Then why did you become a cop? Like him?"
Like Olivia had, Mia realized and felt the pain of her loss as keenly as if it had been her own. "Not like him," she said wearily. "I was raised around cops. Good, decent men. They had a sense of family I didn't have. I wanted that. And, I suppose I wanted to save kids like Kelsey since I couldn't save her. There are so many out there like Kelsey. You're a cop. You've seen them. I started helping kids like her, runaways. Then I got good at catching the bad guys who hurt them. Now, it's what I am. It's all I am."
"I'm sorry." Tears slid down her cheeks. "I didn't know."
"You couldn't have known and I didn't want you to. I thought I could make you understand what kind of man he was without knowing. But 1 didn't want you to grieve a man who wasn't worth spit on his grave. Or feel inferior because he didn't choose you."
"I need to go." She backed up, grabbed her coat and scarf. "I need to go."
Mia watched her run out the front door. Flinched at the slam. Then pulled the pizza from the oven. She wanted to throw it. But it wasn't her kitchen. It was Lauren's kitchen with the pretty framed cross-stitch teapots and flowers with the "cs" in the corner. Made by Reed's wife. Who he'd never found anyone good enough to replace.
Including me. Trembling, she carefully placed the pan on the stovetop and turned on the water, then the garbage disposal. Then under the cover of noise, let herself cry.
Reed stood at the window, his heart thundering in his chest. Dear God. His life before the Sollidays had been dark and dank and dismal. He'd been hungry and afraid. His mother had used her fists. But this. He'd been afraid of this last night. She'd denied it too forcefully. Her father had molested his daughters. Rage bubbled with hate and Reed would have liked nothing more than to resurrect Bobby Mitchell so he could kill him again. But that wasn't what Mia needed. He watched her shoulders heave as she cried and his own eyes stung. She'd do this. Cry so that nobody would hear. Nobody would come. Nobody would help. She'd accept his help tonight. He opened the door, set the glass bowl on the stove, turned off the disposal and the water, then turned her into his arms. She stiffened, tried to pull away, but he held her firmly until her fingers curled into his shirt, hanging on.
Gently he pulled her across the kitchen, sat down and pulled her into his lap where her arms came around his neck and she clung, weeping so pitifully he thought his own heart would break. He held her tight, rocked her, kissed her hair until her tears were spent. She sagged against him, her forehead pressed against his chest so her face was hidden. It was her last defense and this he'd leave her.
She was quiet for a long time. "You were listening again."
"I came to bring you meatloaf. I can't help it that the walls are thin."
"I should be mad at you. But I don't seem to have enough mad left."
He ran his hands up and down her back. "I'd kill him if he weren't already dead."
"You don't understand."
"Then tell me. Let me help you."
She shook her head. "We made a deal, Solliday. This is way too many strings now."
He lifted her chin, made her look at him. "You're hurting. Let me help you."
She held his eyes. "It's not what you think. He never touched me."
"Kelsey?"
"Yeah." She stood, walked to the back door and stared out the window. "I remember the day I understood that Bobby would never change. I was fifteen and he was drunk. Kelsey had done something and he'd already belted her once. I begged him not to hurt her anymore and he made me a deal." She paused, then sighed. "He put his arm around me… Somehow I knew. He said if I did it, he'd leave Kelsey alone."
Reed swallowed hard. "You didn't."
"No, I didn't. Instead I busted my ass to get a scholarship by day. I took one of his guns and slept with it under my pillow at night. He'd been so drunk, I didn't think he even remembered he'd said it, but I was taking no chances. I tried to tell Kelsey to be careful, to watch out, not to antagonize him but she wouldn't listen. She hated me then. Or so I thought." She turned abruptly. "Do you know the meaning of sacrifice, Reed?"
"I don't know how to answer that."
Her mouth curved bitterly. "Wise answer. See, I always thought I escaped the big beatings because I was faster than Kelsey. Because I was somehow better. Smarter. I didn't antagonize him. He left me alone. What Kelsey didn't tell me until a few years ago is that he'd made the same proposition to her." She lifted her brows and said no more.
"Oh my God," he breathed, unable to fathom it. "Oh, Mia."
"Yeah. All the time I was telling her to straighten and fly right, to stop provoking him… all that time…" Her voice broke. "She did it. For me. Until I was gone to college. Then she ran away with a punk named Stone and ruined her life. Now she's in prison. Olivia was right. Kelsey did it. But I have to ask if she would have if things had been different. If the tables had been turned, would she be the cop? Would I be in jail?"
"You wouldn't have. You couldn't have."
"And you don't know that," she said, fury giving her voice a hard edge. "I've listened to you debate nature versus nurture with Miles all week and I'm here to tell you it's not that easy, Reed. Sometimes people go wrong, when if things were different they would have gone right. You said yourself you nearly ended up in a place like Hope Center. What if you had? What if the Sollidays hadn't taken you in? Where might you be?"
"I never broke the law," he said tightly. "Even when I was hungry, I never stole a penny. What I am, I made."
"And the Sollidays had nothing to do with that."
"They gave me a home. I did the rest."
She looked at him, something close to contempt in her eyes and he felt compelled to make her understand. "I'd been a runaway for three years, off and on. I met up with some kids who stole purses. I never did. Then one day one of them did and threw the purse to me. The lady screamed I'd done it and called the cops. I almost got hauled in, but a bystander went to bat for me. She'd seen the whole thing and swore I was innocent. Her name was Nancy Solliday. She and her husband took me."
"And I'm grateful io them," she said quietly, her eyes calmer now. "But Reed, realistically, how long would you have lasted on the streets?"
"I would have found any other way."
"Okay. Look, I appreciate the shoulder, but I need some time to myself right now. I haven't run in days, so I'm going around the block a few times."
She'd closed the subject again. "What about your dinner?" he asked.
"I'll heat something up later." She kissed his cheek. "Thank you. I mean that. I'll call you when I'm back."
Reed sat while she ran upstairs to change her clothes. She went straight out without saying another word, leaving him to stare at the kitchen walls. Christine had decorated this room, like she'd decorated all the others. Beauty, elegance with enough hominess to balance the effect. Left up to Mia, the room would have a microwave, a toaster oven for her Pop-Tarts, and a stack of paper plates.
He got up to put away the food, wondering how much more a man really needed.
Friday, December 1, 9:15 p.m.
Mia rounded the block, headed for Solliday's house for the second time. When she looked at apartments tomorrow, she'd look in nice old neighborhoods like this. At least three dog walkers had smiled and waved as she ran by. It was in marked contrast to her own neighborhood, where no one made eye contact, or the neighborhood where little boys peeked out their blinds and no one had any idea who their neighbors were. Which made her remember that she'd forgotten to tell Solliday that his hunch on pet shops may prove profitable after all. She pulled out her cell phone to check on Murphy's status when she saw something strange.
One of the bedroom windows in Solliday's house slid up and a dark head poked out and looked both ways. Then a body followed the head and shimmied down the tree outside her window as if it were a firepole. Looked like Beth Solliday was going to her party after all. Kelsey used to do that, she recalled. Climb out the window and meet God-knew-who and do God-knew-what. But Beth, honey, you will not.
Beth straightened her coat, pulled on her gloves and took off at a run across backyards, taking fences like a pro. Keeping her distance, Mia followed.
Friday, December 1, 9:55 p.m.
"You're late," a girl with a ring in her nose hissed and pulled Beth inside. "You almost missed your slot." That, Mia supposed, would be the infamous Jenny Q.
Mia had followed Beth downtown on the El to some kind of club called the Rendezvous. The kid had been damn hard to keep up with. She should be running track.
Beth took off her coat. "I had to wait. My dad went next door and I kept thinking he'd come back, but he didn't. I guess he's there for the night again."
Again? So much for discretion, Mia thought. Solliday thought his daughter was innocent. Well, she hadn't gone to a party but she'd snuck out to go wherever this was. Mia wasn't sure what this place was. It wasn't a bar, because no one was carding. It had a stage and about fifty little tables where a diverse group lounged. Jenny and Beth disappeared into the crowd, but when Mia tried to follow a man tapped her arm.
"Ten bucks, please." His badge said he was security. He didn't look like a druggie.
She dug in her pocket, pulled out her emergency twenty. "What's going on here?"
He made change and handed her a program. "It's competition night."
"And who's competing?"
He smiled. "Anybody who wants to. You want me to see if there's any slots left?"
"No. No thank you. I'm looking for someone. Beth Solliday."
He checked his sheet. "We have a Liz Solliday. You'd better hurry. She's on now."
Feeling like Alice in Wonderland, Mia hurried in. The lights dimmed and a spotlight lit center stage. And out walked Beth Solliday in a leather miniskirt amid polite applause.
"My name is Liz Solliday and the title of my poem is 'casper'," she said.
Poem? Mia held her program up to the red glow of the exit sign and blinked. Whatever the hell Slam Poetry was, Beth had made the semifinals. As soon as Beth opened her mouth, Mia understood why. The girl had a presence on the stage.
did I mention that I live with a ghost?
we'll call her casper she follows me staring at me her eyes my eyes her eyes she's stolen my eyes my dad, he's the one who invited her in sometimes when he looks at me he winces like he sees her when it's only me and i'm willing to bet he wishes he could make a trade if only for one day
Casper was Christine. Mia's throat closed, but Beth's voice was strong. Like music. And as she spoke, her words touched the very place Mia hurt the most.
i'm just the doppelganger reminding the world of the better version that once was flitting through my father's life almost invisible her eyes darker every day mine fade a little more every day my purpose less certain until i wonder who's the ghost and who just deserves better
The spotlight dimmed and Mia let out a breath. Wow. Grateful for the darkness, she wiped her cheeks dry. Reed's daughter had a gift. A beautiful, exquisite gift.
Mia stood up. And Reed's daughter was in trouble. One hell of a lot of trouble. She pushed in her chair and went to find Liz, who had a great deal of explaining to do.
Friday, December 1, 10:15 p.m.
He was still out there, the man cop. The lady had driven away hours ago. He didn't know what to do. Yes, he did, but he was so scared.
But police were your friends. His teacher had said so. If you're in trouble, you can go to the police. He turned from the window and sat on his bed. He'd think about it. He could tell the cops and maybe he would come back and hurt them. But maybe he would anyway. The lady on the news said he'd killed people, which he believed.
I ran wait for him to come and get me and be afraid for the rest of my life, or tell and hope the police really are my friends. It was a scary choice. But at seven years old. the rest of his life was a really long time.
Friday, December 1, 10:45 P.M.
Beth edged closer to the window as the El carried them home. I am so dead. Her stomach rolled every time she thought about what her father would do. She chanced a glance at Mitchell, who sat quietly, arms crossed. Beth could see the bulge of her holster through her sweat jacket. She had a gun. Well, she was a cop.
She still couldn't believe the woman had followed her. Followed her, for God's sake. It had been the moment she'd dreamed of, stepping off the stage to all that applause. And not polite applause, either. The real thing. Jenny Q and all the group had been there, jumping up and down and hugging her. And then she'd looked up and seen Mitchell standing off to the side, brows lifted. She'd said nothing, but Beth's heart had dropped into her feet. It was still somewhere down around her gut.
I am so dead. Her choice had been clear. Leave quietly or the cop would cause a scene. So here she was, chugging on the El toward home and certain doom.
"Believe it or not, that was the first time I ever did anything like that," she muttered.
Mitchell looked at her from the corner of her eye. "What, slam poetry or shimmying down a tree to gallivant all over town when your father told you to stay home?"
"Both," Beth said glumly. "I am so dead."
"You could have been, going downtown by yourself this time of night."
Beth's eyes jerked to Mitchell's face. "I'm not a kid. I know what I'm doing."
"Uh-huh. Okay."
"I do."
"Okay."
Beth rolled her eyes. "I mean, yeah, the 'Vous isn't in the best part of town."
"Nope."
"Will you say something that's not monosyllabic?"
Mitchell turned to look at her, eyes cool. "You are an idiot. A very talented idiot. Is that enough syllables for you? Although technically, 'okay' is disyllabic."
Beth sputtered even as the compliment warmed her. "I'm not an idiot. I'm a straight-A student. Honor roll." She shook her head, disgusted. Then sighed. "But you liked it?"
Mitchell's eyes changed. Went from cool to devastated. "Yes. I liked it very much."
"I wouldn't have taken you for a poetry fan."
One side of the woman's mouth lifted. "I wouldn't have, either. 'There once was a lady from Nantucket' is more my speed."
Beth huffed a chuckle. "The limericks crack me up, too." She sobered and drew a breath. "So, are you going to tell my dad?"
Her blonde brows went up. "Shouldn't I?"
"He's gonna freak."
"As well he should. He's a good father, Beth, and he loves you."
"He keeps me locked up like a prisoner."
Mitchell's eyes flickered. "Believe me, you're no prisoner. Do you love your dad?"
Beth's eyes stung. "Yes," she whispered.
"Then why didn't you tell him about the slam thing?"
"He's not into this kind of stuff. He's into sports. He wouldn't understand."
"I think he would have tried." She sighed. "Look, I don't want to get between the two of you. I'll give you until tomorrow to tell him. If you don't, then I will."