The Killing Game

  “The guy on the horse is Sagittarius, but he's not really on a horse. He's half horse, half man. You see that string of stars? That's the string of his bow as he draws it back to . . .”

  C H A P T E R

  SEVEN

  “I beg your pardon?” Fay Sugarton stared at her three visitors. “Jane?”

  “She's in danger,” Eve said, seated on the sofa with Joe and Mark. “Please believe me.”

  “Why? Because she's the right age, has red hair, and was in four foster homes before coming here? You admit you practically pulled her name from a hat.”

  “She matched the profile,” Joe said.

  “Did you check county records as well as city records?”

  “We believe Dom would choose a child from this area.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. There could be other children in the county who match the profile. You didn't search in depth.” Fay crossed her arms over her breasts. “And you don't even know if this guy who's calling you isn't some sicko practical joker.”

  “He knew about the two boys at Talladega,” Eve said.

  “That doesn't mean he's after Jane.”

  “Do you want to take the chance?”

  “Of course I don't.” She stared at Eve. “But I don't intend to let you jerk Jane away from me unless I'm convinced there's a need for it. She's been tossed from one home to another since she was two. I'm responsible for her now. I won't have her torn from another home and frightened out of her wits.”

  “We're not the ones who will frighten her.”

  “Bring me proof; show me how you'll protect her and I'll let her go.”

  Eve drew a deep breath. “Proof may come too late.”

  “You don't realize how damaged this child is. I want a chance at earning her trust.” She turned to Mark Grunard. “And if you try to put me or any of this on TV, I'll sue the station.”

  He held up his hands. “I'm just an observer.” He paused. “But I'd listen if I were you. No one is trying to victimize the child but this Dom. We're trying to save her, Ms. Sugarton.”

  Fay hesitated and then shook her head. “Bring me proof and I'll let you take her.”

  “You're putting the child at risk,” Eve said.

  Fay gave her a shrewd glance. “I don't imagine you'll let her become a victim. I'd bet you'll have a guard on her.”

  “That may not be enough. She needs to be hidden away.”

  “I don't see you hiding.”

  “That's my choice. A child has no choice.”

  Fay grimaced. “You don't know Jane.”

  “She's a child, dammit.”

  “A child who's been abused and neglected most of her life. She doesn't think much of grown-ups already, and you want me to tell her someone's trying to kill her just for the hell of it?”

  “What kind of proof do you want?” Joe asked.

  “It sounds like you found Jane too easily. I want the welfare people to go through all their records, both city and county, and make sure Jane is the only one who fits the profile. And have that FBI agent, Spiro, come by and talk to me. I trust the FBI.” She glanced at Joe. “No offense, but my kids have had problems with the local police and I don't like you showing up with this TV man.”

  Eve looked at Joe. If Dom didn't want the police involved, he wouldn't be pleased at seeing the FBI there.

  He shrugged. “I don't like it either, but we have located the little girl. He can't move on her without our knowing it now.”

  Eve turned back to Fay. “Then it's settled. You'll talk to Robert Spiro. Please listen to him. We've told you what a problem we're having with Family Services.”

  “I promise to listen. No more than that.” She stood up. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have housework to do and then I have to go to the grocery store.” She said to Eve, “Sorry, but I have to be sure. Jane's a tough proposition. This may blow any chance I have of reaching her.”

  “For God's sake, help us.”

  “I'll do what I can. Right now she's at Crawford Middle School on Thirteenth Street.” Fay walked to the chest across the room, rummaged through the top drawer, and handed a photograph to Eve. “That's her school picture from last year. She gets out at three and walks home. It's only four blocks. Keep an eye on her, but I don't want you talking to her.” Her lips firmed. “If you scare her, I'll scalp you.”

  “Thank you.” Eve thrust the photo into her purse. “But you're making a mistake.”

  Fay shrugged. “I've made a lot of them, but I can only do my best. I've had twelve foster children in the past six years and I think most of them are better for being with me.” She moved to the door and opened it. “Good-bye. Give me proof and we'll work something out.”

  Mark Grunard said as they reached the street, “Tough lady. Evidently, she isn't easily impressed by my fame and sparkling personality.”

  “I like her.” Eve scowled. “Though I'd like to break her neck. Why wouldn't she listen?”

  “She believes she's doing what's best for the kid,” Joe said. “And she's not about to take anyone's word without thinking it over first.”

  “So what do we do now?” Mark asked.

  “You go home and get some sleep. You were up all night,” Joe said. “As soon as we get to the car, we'll call Spiro and ask him to come down and talk to Fay Sugarton.” He looked at Eve. “And then I assume this afternoon we watch the school and make sure the kid gets home all right?”

  She started toward the car. “That's the plan.”

  “I'M TIED UP here. I can't come right now,” Spiro said.

  “It can't be that important. We need you,” Eve told him.

  “It's important enough.” He paused. “We found another body on the bank across the falls. They're digging up the entire area to see if there are any more.”

  “God.” That made twelve bodies. How many more?

  “But I'll try to break away tonight and drive down. I won't be able to stay long.”

  “When can you get here?” Eve asked.

  “I'll be there before nine, and we'll go to see the lady together,” he said wearily. “Is that all right?”

  “It will have to be if you can't get here before that.”

  Joe took the phone from her. “We're not going back to the cottage tonight. Send Charlie down here in case I have to leave Eve for any length of time.” He listened. “No, we don't want Charlie to talk to Fay Sugarton. He has about as much presence and authority as one of her foster kids. We need you to impress her. What about Spalding from CASKU? Okay, if he's gone back to Quantico, you get down here yourself. I don't care if it sounds like an order. It is an order.” He hung up.

  “You didn't handle him very diplomatically,” Eve said. “He's trying to help us.”

  “As long as it means catching Dom.”

  “It's his job to catch killers.”

  “Not quite. He's a profiler. He's supposed to analyze and report, not join in the chase.” His lips tightened. “But now he wants that bastard almost as much as we do.”

  “We should be grateful for that.”

  “I'm grateful.” Joe scowled. “Sometimes. When he doesn't put Bureau business in front of protecting—”

  “Shut up, Joe.”

  He made a face. “Okay, Spiro's only doing his job. I suppose I'm a little uptight.”

  He wasn't the only one. Eve's nerves were strung taut.

  Joe started the car. “Come on, I'll buy you a hamburger at the Varsity and then we'll go on to the school.”

  “MY GOD, I'D forgotten how fast kids can move when they get out of school.” Joe chuckled. “They're like a herd of buffalo heading for water. Did you go to this school?”

  “No, it wasn't here when I was growing up.” Her gaze searched the crowd of children. “I don't see any redheads. Where is she?”

  “You have a photograph.” He paused. “I've been wondering why you haven't looked at it since you got it.”

  “I didn't think of it.”

  “Sure?”


  She glanced at him. “Of course I'm sure. Stop reading significance into a simple oversight.”

  “There's nothing simple about you. It's time to look at the photograph, Eve.”

  “I was going to do that.” She pulled the picture out of her purse. It's only a little girl. She has nothing to do with Bonnie.

  Relief rushed through her. “Not very pretty, is she?” The child in the photo was not smiling and had short red hair curling around a thin, triangular face. The only attractive feature she could claim were large hazel eyes, and even they were glaring out of the photograph. “She obviously didn't want her picture taken.”

  “Then she must have character. I never wanted my picture taken either.”

  Joe's gaze shifted to her face. “You're relieved. You were afraid she'd look like Bonnie.”

  “It seems Dom has a bad eye. She and Bonnie are nothing alike. Hell, maybe he's lying about everything. Maybe he never saw Bonnie.”

  “If he was around here then, he would have seen at least a photo of her. The media plastered her face all over.”

  Because she was pretty and sweet and loved life so much, she touched everyone who saw her, Eve thought. Not like Jane MacGuire, who was prone to strike out. “That Dom thinks I'd identify with her only proves how crazy he is. You didn't need to worry, Joe.”

  “That's nice. Maybe.” He straightened in the driver's seat. “There she is. She just came out of the front entrance.”

  Jane MacGuire was small for ten, dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes. She wore a green book bag on her back and strode straight ahead without looking to either side.

  No dawdling. No stopping to talk with friends as Bonnie had done. Bonnie had so many friends . . .

  She wasn't being fair. Bonnie had always been surrounded by love and trust. Jane MacGuire had a right to be wary. But, God, she was glad the child was nothing like Bonnie. “She's reached the street. Start the car.”

  THE CREEP HAD a different car. Bigger. Newer. Gray instead of blue.

  Or it could be another creep, Jane thought. The world was full of them.

  She broke into a trot and darted around the corner.

  She waited.

  The gray car coasted slowly around the corner.

  She tensed. Was it following her?

  A man and woman? Maybe they're not creeps.

  Or maybe they were. Better not take any chances. She climbed over the chain-link fence, ran across the yard, then scrambled over the far fence.

  Out the gate that led to the alley.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  No car.

  Keep running.

  Her heart was beating too hard.

  Stop it. Don't ever let the creeps scare you. That's what they wanted. Scare you. Hurt you. Don't let them do it.

  It was going to be okay.

  Two more blocks and she'd be at Fay's house. Maybe she'd tell Fay about the creeps. Fay was like the teachers at school. As long as she understood the danger, she'd do what she could to help. It was only when she didn't understand that she—

  Jane ran out of the alley into the street. The house was right ahead. Half a block.

  She looked back over her shoulder, and her heart leaped into her throat.

  Gray car. Turning the corner.

  She hadn't lost them.

  She flew down the street toward Fay's house.

  Fay would keep her safe. She would call the cops and maybe they would care enough to come.

  If they didn't, at least she wouldn't be alone. Fay would be there.

  She ran up the steps, threw open the door, and slammed it closed behind her.

  Safe. She was safe.

  Maybe she was stupid to be scared. Maybe she wouldn't tell Fay.

  That would be really stupid. She'd tell her. “Fay!”

  No answer.

  The house was silent.

  Fay must be in the kitchen. She always made sure she was home when Jane and the boys returned from school.

  Yes, Fay was in the kitchen. Jane was sure she heard the loose board near the sink creak.

  But why hadn't she answered?

  She slowly started across the living room toward the kitchen.

  “Fay?”

  “FAY SUGARTON ISN'T going to like this.” Joe parked in front of the house. “She doesn't want us talking to the kid.”

  “Too bad. Dammit, we scared her. I'm not going to let her have nightmares about this.” Eve opened the car door. “Fine tail you are. I told you not to let her know we were following.”

  “She's sharp.” Joe got out of the car. “It's almost as if she was expecting it.”

  Eve glanced at him. “You think she knows she's being watched?”

  “It seems we're going to have the opportunity to ask her.” Joe climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. “If we can get Fay Sugarton to let us in the front door.”

  “She has no choice. She cares about the girl. It's not as if we're going to tell Jane about— Why isn't she answering the door?”

  Joe rang the bell again. “She said she was going to the grocery store. Maybe she's not home and the kid's too scared to answer.”

  “She's had hours to get home from the store.” She tried the door. “It's locked.”

  “The kid.” He thought about it. “Then again, maybe not. What the hell.” He put his shoulder against the door and broke through it. “Illegal is better than—Shit!” He crumpled to the floor as a baseball bat struck his kneecaps.

  Jane whirled on Eve and struck her in the rib cage with the bat. Pain seared through Eve. She was barely able to dodge as the girl swung the bat at her head.

  “Creep.” Tears were running down her face. “Fucking creep.” She swung the bat again. “I'll kill you, you dirty—”

  Joe dove from his knees and brought Jane down.

  “Don't hurt her,” Eve gasped.

  “Don't hurt her? I may have to have a knee replacement.” He straddled the struggling child. “And she tried to knock your brains out.”

  “She's scared. We broke into the house. She thought—” Blood. The little girl was covered in blood. Her cheeks, lips, hands . . . “Oh, my God, she's hurt, Joe. He hurt her.” She fell to her knees beside the girl and brushed the hair away from her cheek.

  Jane sank her teeth into Eve's hand.

  Joe pried her teeth apart and jerked Eve's hand away. “Careful.” He cupped Jane's jaw and held it shut while he stared down into her eyes. “We're not going to hurt you, dammit. We're here to help. Now, where's Ms. Sugarton?”

  Jane glared up at him.

  “Police. Detective Quinn.” He reached into his pocket and showed her his badge. He repeated, “We're here to help.”

  The child relaxed a little.

  “Where are you hurt?” Eve asked.

  Jane was still glaring at Joe. “Get off me.”

  “Get off her, Joe.”

  “This could be a mistake.” Joe stood up and grabbed the bat.

  Jane slowly sat up. “Lousy cop. Why weren't you here before?” Tears were running down her cheeks again. “Never here when anyone needs you. Lousy cop. Lousy cop . . .”

  “I'm here now. Where are you hurt?”

  “Not hurt. She's hurt.”

  Eve stiffened. “Ms. Sugarton?”

  “Fay.” Jane looked toward the kitchen. “Fay.”

  “Jesus.” Eve jumped to her feet and ran toward the kitchen.

  BLOOD.

  And more blood.

  On the Formica table.

  On the overturned kitchen chair.

  On the tile floor where Fay Sugarton lay slumped, eyes staring at them across the room, throat gaping where it had been slashed.

  “Don't move.” Joe was standing beside her. “There could be tracks. We don't want to disturb them.”

  “She's dead,” Eve said dully.

  “Yes.” He turned her around and gave her a push toward the living room. “Go back and take care of the kid while I call this in. See if she saw
anyone.”

  She couldn't tear her gaze from those staring dead eyes. “Dom,” she whispered. “It has to be Dom.”

  “Go.”

  She nodded and moved slowly from the kitchen.

  Jane was sitting huddled against a wall, her knees drawn up to her chest. “She's dead, isn't she?”

  “Yes.” She dropped down on the floor beside her. “Did you see anyone?”

  “I tried to help her. She was bleeding. I tried to stop the bleeding . . . but I couldn't. I couldn't stop it. My health teacher said if we ever have an accident, we should always stop the bleeding first. I couldn't do it. I couldn't stop it.”

  Eve wanted to reach out and draw Jane close, but she could almost see the wall the child had built around herself. “It wasn't your fault. I'm sure she was already dead.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe I could have helped her if I'd been smarter. I didn't pay much attention to what my teacher said. I didn't think—I didn't know—”

  Eve couldn't stand it. She reached out and tentatively touched the child's shoulder.

  Jane jerked away. “Who are you?” she said fiercely. “Are you a cop too? Why weren't you here? Why did you let this happen?”

  “I'm not police, but I have to know what happened. Did you see—” To hell with it. The child was in no shape to answer questions. “What do you say we go on the porch and wait for the police to get here?”

  At first she didn't think the girl would agree, but then Jane rose to her feet and strode out of the house. She sat down on the top porch step.

  Eve sat down beside her. “My name is Eve Duncan. The detective inside is Joe Quinn.”

  The girl stared straight ahead.

  “You're Jane MacGuire?”

  The girl didn't answer.

  “If you don't want to talk, that's fine. I know you must have cared very much for Ms. Sugarton.”

  “I didn't care anything about her. I just lived with her.”

  “I don't think that's true, but we won't talk about it now. We won't talk at all. I just thought it would make you feel better if we weren't strangers.”

  “Talking doesn't mean anything. You're still a stranger.”

  And the child was going to make sure she stayed that way, Eve thought. The tears were gone, but her back was straight and rigid and the wall of distrust was higher than ever. Who could blame her? Any other child would have been in hysterics. It might have been a healthier reaction than withdrawal. “I don't feel much like talking either. We'll just sit here and wait. Okay?”