Innocent in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “Has Melodie had contact with any of her friends from Sarah Child?” Eve asked.

  “Yes, of course. We’re all trying to keep things as normal as we can. It isn’t easy.”

  “How about Rayleen Straffo?”

  “Her in particular. They’re tight, and tighter yet since they had that awful experience together. We had Rayleen over Thursday, that’s a usual date for them. Allika and I felt it would be good for them to see each other as they normally do. Then Melodie had dinner over at the Straffo’s last night.”

  “Two days in a row? Is that usual?”

  “It’s not a usual situation. Frankly, I was relieved to have Melodie out of my hair for a few hours after we clashed about her starting a new school on Monday.”

  “We’d like to talk with her.”

  “Lieutenant, I know you have a job to do, and believe me, I want you to do it. I just don’t want Melodie upset again. I don’t want her to have to go through the details of what happened to Craig Foster again. She has nightmares.”

  “We’ll try to stay away from that. It’s another avenue we need to explore.”

  “All right. But in her current mood you may not get anything but the silent treatment, too. I’ll get her.”

  Angela rose and walked out of the room. Eve could hear muted voices—the impatience in the mother’s, the sulky defiance in the child’s.

  Shortly, a grim-faced little girl was marched into the living area by her equally grim-faced parent. “Melodie, sit. And if you’re as impolite to Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody as you have been to me, you can expect to be on house arrest for the next two weeks.”

  Melodie shrugged, a pissy little gesture, and kept her gaze on the floor as she plopped into a chair.

  “It’s not my fault Mr. Foster and Mr. Williams are dead. But I get punished.”

  “I’m not going to start this round again,” Angela said wearily.

  Eve decided to do a straight push. “Melodie, I need Rayleen’s diary.”

  The girl’s chin jerked up, quick shock, then just as quickly lowered. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

  “Sure you do. Rayleen gave you her diary. I need to have it.”

  “I don’t have Rayleen’s diary.”

  “But she has a diary.”

  “She…I don’t know. Diaries are private.”

  “Do you have one?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s private.” And she looked imploringly at her mother.

  “Yes, it is.” Angela sat on the arm of Melodie’s chair, laid a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Whatever their battle lines, Eve noted, this was a united front. “Melodie knows she can write whatever she needs or wants to write in her diary, and no one will read it. I don’t understand what this is about.”

  “Privacy’s important,” Eve agreed. “So’s friendship. I guess a lot of friends don’t mind sharing what’s in their diary. Did you read Rayleen’s?”

  “No, she wouldn’t…Um. Maybe she doesn’t have one.”

  Eve took the logical leap. “She gave it to you Thursday, when she came over. What did she tell you to do with it?”

  “She just came over to play, that’s all. And to hang. We can’t go to school because Mr. Williams drowned in the pool.” Tears began to swim in Melodie’s eyes. “And everything’s totally base, and now Ray and I won’t even go to the same school anymore. She’s my best friend. Best friends stick together.”

  “Melodie, do you know what a warrant is? I can get one,” Eve continued as Melodie just hunched up. “It’ll give me permission to search your room. I don’t want to do that.”

  “Lieutenant,” Angela said, shocked. “My God, what is this?”

  “I need to see the diary, Melodie. I’ll search your room if I have to.”

  “You won’t find it. You won’t! Because Ray—” She broke off, gripped her mother’s hand. “I promised. I promised. Mom. You’re not supposed to break a promise.”

  “No, you’re not. It’s all right, baby.” She gathered Melodie up. “Is Rayleen in trouble?” she asked Eve.

  “I’ll know more when I have the diary. This is in Melodie’s best interest.”

  “Wait. Just wait.” Angela closed her eyes a moment, the struggle on her face obvious. Then she tipped Melodie’s face up to hers and spoke quietly. “Sweetie, you have to tell the police the truth. That’s important.”

  “I promised!”

  “The truth is as important as a promise. Tell me, sweetie, do you have Rayleen’s diary?”

  “I don’t! I don’t! I took it back to her last night. I only had it for a little while, and I didn’t read it. It’s locked up, but I wouldn’t have read it even if it wasn’t. I swore an oath.”

  “Okay, baby, that’s okay. She doesn’t have it,” Angela said to Eve. “I won’t insist you get a warrant if you feel compelled to look for it. But I’m telling you, if she says she doesn’t have it, she doesn’t have it.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Melodie, what did Rayleen tell you when she gave you the diary?”

  “She said the police were going to come and go through all her things.”

  “Oh, my God,” Angela murmured. “You searched the Straffos’ apartment? I didn’t know. I let Melodie go over there. I—”

  “Nothing happened to Melodie, and nothing will,” Eve interrupted. “Go on, Melodie.”

  “She just asked me to keep it, not to tell about what was going on, not to tell anyone that she gave it to me. It’s private, it’s a diary. It wouldn’t be right for strangers to read her private thoughts. She could trust me because we’re best friends. And I took it back to her last night, just like she asked. Now she’ll be mad at me because I told.”

  “No, she won’t.” Angela said it absently, staring at Eve’s face. “It’s going to be all right, don’t worry.” She rose, standing Melodie on her feet. “I’m proud that you told the truth, because that was the right thing to do, and the hard thing to do. You go on, get yourself a cherry fizzy. I’ll be right there.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been mean to you.”

  “I’m sorry, too, sweetie. Go get us both a big fizzy.”

  Sniffling, Melodie nodded, and left the room, dragging her heels.

  “I don’t know why you’d need a child’s diary. I don’t understand how that could possibly pertain to your investigation.”

  “It’s an element that requires attention.”

  “You’re not going to tell me what I need or want to know about this, and my daughter needs my attention. But I want you to tell me if I should keep Melodie away from the Straffos. I want you to tell me if her being with Rayleen and the family is dangerous to her.”

  “I don’t believe she’s in any danger, but you may feel more comfortable, for the time being, restricting that contact.” Better, all around, Eve thought, and made sure Angela understood it. “It’s important that neither you nor Melodie speak of this conversation or the diary to the Straffos, or to anyone else.”

  “I think Melodie and I are going away for the rest of the weekend, maybe take a long weekend trip.” Angela let out an unsteady breath. “She can start school on Tuesday.”

  “That sounds like a nice idea,” Eve said. “I’m no authority on kids, Ms. Miles-Branch, but my impression is you’ve got a good one there.”

  “I’ve got a very good one there. Thank you.”

  Eve gave Peabody a chance to speak as they rode down from the Miles-Branch apartment. When she remained silent, Eve waited until they were in the car.

  “Thoughts? Comments? Questions?”

  “I guess I’m compiling them.” Peabody puffed out her cheeks. “I have to say, on the surface, it seems pretty innocent, and fairly typical, for a kid to hide her diary, or ask a trusted friend to hold it for her if she’s afraid somebody—an adult, an authority figure—is going to put eyes on it. Girls, especially girls, are hypersensitive about that kind of thing.”

  “And under the surface?”

  “Which is where
you’re looking, and I get that. From that point of view, the fact that there is a diary, that Rayleen went to some trouble to get it out of the house before we searched, adds a certain weight to your theory.”

  And Eve heard the doubt. “But from where you’re sitting, it’s still typical girl stuff.”

  “It’s pretty hard for me to see it differently. Sorry, Dallas, she is a girl.”

  “What if she were sixteen, or twenty-six?”

  “Dallas, you know there’s a world of difference.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to decide,” Eve said, and swung toward the curb in front of the Straffos’ building.

  It was Allika who opened the door. She looked pinched and heavy-eyed, like someone who’d slept poorly several nights running. She wasn’t yet dressed for the day, and wore a long gray robe.

  “Please,” she said, “can’t you leave us alone?”

  “We need to speak with you, Mrs. Straffo. We’d prefer to do it inside, where it’s private and you can be comfortable.”

  “Why do the police feel being interrogated in your own home is comfortable?”

  “I said speak with you, not interrogate you. Is there a reason you’re hesitant to hold a conversation with us?”

  Allika closed her eyes a moment. “I’ll need to contact my husband.”

  “Do you feel you need a lawyer?”

  “He’s not just a lawyer.” She snapped it, then pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I have a headache. I’m trying to rest before I need to pick up my daughter.”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but we have questions that require answers.” Eve took aim and pushed the weak spot. “If you feel the need to contact your husband, why don’t you suggest he meet the three of us down at Central? We’ll make this formal.”

  “That sounds almost threatening.”

  “The three of us here, the four of us there. Take it any way you like.”

  “Oh, come in then. Get it over with. You police have a way of making victims feel like criminals.”

  She stalked into the living area and, in a gesture very similar to the sulky Melodie’s, dropped into a chair. “What do you want?”

  “We have reason to believe there was an item taken off the premises prior to the execution of the search that may be germane to the investigation.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Nothing was taken out of the house, and nothing that was ever in it is germane to your investigation.”

  “Your daughter removed her diary.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Allika sat up now, and there was a ripple, just the faintest ripple, of fear in her voice. “What does Rayleen’s diary have to do with anything?”

  “She removed it prior to the search, and has since taken possession of it again. Do you know where it is?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Have you read it?”

  “No, I haven’t. We respect each other’s privacy in this house.”

  “We need to see the diary, Mrs. Straffo.”

  “What’s wrong with you? How can you accuse a child of something so horrible?”

  “I haven’t accused Rayleen of anything. What do you think she did? What do you think she’s capable of doing, Allika?” Eve leaned forward. “What has you sick, and sleepless, and scared?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what you mean.” Her fingers began to pleat the skirt of her robe. “You have to stop this. You have to stop it.”

  “I’m going to stop it. I’m going to stop her. You know this can’t go on.”

  “You need to go. I want you to leave now.”

  Eve pressed down hard on the next weak spot. “Why do you keep all your son’s pictures hidden away? Why do you hide a piece of his blanket, his little toy dog, all of those parts of him? Why is that, Allika?”

  “He was my baby. He was my boy.” Tears gushed now.

  “But you don’t have pictures of your baby, you don’t have memories of your boy sitting out, in the open. Why is that?”

  “It’s painful. It’s upsetting to…”

  “To Rayleen. She doesn’t like it, does she? Doesn’t like you or Oliver looking at pictures of another child. It needs to be about her, only her. She never liked sharing the attention, did she?”

  “It’s natural, it’s perfectly natural for a first child to be jealous of a new baby. To have a period of adjustment. Sibling—sibling rivalry.”

  “It was more than that, wasn’t it? Then she finally did something about it, on that Christmas Eve. Why should she have to share those toys? Why should he get your time, when she was first. So she got him out of bed, she led him to the top of the stairs. Didn’t she?”

  “It was an accident.” Allika covered her face with her hands, rocked. “It was an accident. She was asleep. We were all asleep. Oh, God, please, don’t do this.”

  “No, she wasn’t asleep. You know she wasn’t.”

  “She didn’t mean…she couldn’t have meant…Please, God.”

  “Tell me what happened that morning, Allika.”

  “It was just as I told you. We were all asleep, all asleep.” She dropped her hands now, and her face was ghost white, her eyes dull.

  “How much longer can you keep it inside without breaking?” Eve demanded. “How much longer can you mask it with pills and busy work? With pretense? Until the next Reed Williams?”

  “No. No. That was one time, that was a mistake.”

  “You know you can’t live with it, Allika. You need to tell me. Tell me what she did to your little boy. To your baby.”

  “She was only seven.”

  Seeing the fissure in Allika, Peabody did her job. She moved over, sat beside Allika. “You’re her mother, and you want to protect her. You want to do what’s right for her.”

  “Yes, of course. Yes.”

  “You wanted to protect Trevor, too. You want to do what’s right for him. Telling the truth now, you have to know that’s what’s right for both of them.”

  “My babies.”

  “What happened Christmas morning, Allika?” Eve demanded. “What happened to Trevor?”

  “Children wake up early on Christmas morning,” Allika murmured as tears streamed down her cheeks. “It’s natural. So much excitement, so much anticipation. She came in, Rayleen came into our room just before dawn, jumped on the bed. So excited, so happy. We got up, Oliver and I. We got up, and Oliver said he would go get Trev.”

  She pressed a hand to her mouth. “The year before, his first Christmas, Trev was so young, not even a year old. He didn’t understand any of it. But this year, he was nearly two, and he was…It would be his first real Christmas. Oliver said he’d go get Trev, and we’d all go down together and see if Santa had come.”

  “Where was Rayleen?” Eve prompted.

  “Rayleen stayed with me while I got my robe. She was jumping up and down, clapping her hands. So happy, her face just shining as a little girl’s would on Christmas morning.

  “And I saw…I saw she was wearing the little pink slippers I’d tucked in her stocking the night before. The one’s she’d seen and wanted so much when we’d gone shopping one day.”

  Allika’s face went blank, as if everything inside her had gone away. “Rayleen was wearing the slippers,” Eve said.

  “They had sparkles on them, pretty sparkles all over them, spelling out her name. She loved things to have her name on them. I started to say something, to tell her she shouldn’t have gone down there by herself—how Daddy and I, we’d promised we’d get up whenever she woke. But then I heard Oliver cry out. He cried out as if his heart had been ripped away, and I heard him running down the steps. And I ran, I ran, and I saw…My baby. Oliver was holding our baby at the bottom of the stairs, and I ran down. And he was cold. My sweet little boy. There was blood on his face, and he was cold.”

  “What did Rayleen do?”

  “I don’t know. I—it all blurred. Oliver was crying, and I think, I think I tried to take Trev from him, but
Oliver was holding Trev so tight. So tight. I…yes, I ran to the ’link to call for help, and Ray…”

  “What did she do?”

  Allika closed her eyes, and she shuddered. “She was already playing with the dollhouse Oliver and I had set up under the tree. She was just sitting there in her pajamas, wearing her sparkly pink slippers, playing with her dolls. Like nothing had happened.”

  “And you knew.”

  “No. No. She was just a little girl. She didn’t understand. She couldn’t have understood. It was an accident.”

  No, Eve thought, no, it wasn’t. And some part of this woman was being eaten away, day after day, because she knew it.

  “Allika, you don’t have soundproofing in your home, not because you’re afraid something might happen to Rayleen and you wouldn’t hear. You don’t have it because you’re afraid of Rayleen, and what you might not hear.”

  “She’s my child. She’s my child, too.”

  “You went to see your aunt in New Mexico a few months ago. She works in leather. She uses castor beans, the oil from them, to work the leather.”

  “Oh, God, stop. You have to stop.”

  “Did Rayleen spend time with her? Watching her, asking questions? She likes to know things, doesn’t she? Rayleen likes to know.”

  “She liked Craig Foster. He was her favorite teacher.”

  “But you wonder. And Williams. Rayleen volunteers in hospital wards. She’s a clever girl. She could get her hands on a syringe, on drugs if she put her mind to it.”

  “Then she’d be a monster. Do you want me to say that?” Hysteria bubbled up in her voice, and her streaming eyes went wild. “Do you want me to say my daughter’s a monster? She came from me.” She fisted a hand on her belly. “From me and Oliver. We loved her from the first beat of her heart.”

  “The way you loved Trevor. If I’m wrong,” Eve said when Allika’s face crumbled, “then reading her diary isn’t going to hurt anything or anyone. If I’m right, she’ll get help before anyone else is hurt.”