"Why? What purpose could that serve?"
"He's keeping you off balance. Maybe so you'll continue to question your own mind—your own memory."
"That would only make sense if there were something more I could possibly remember. And I—I don't think there is."
"You don't want there to be."
She swung her gaze to him sharply, met his eyes, saw that he knew exactly what she was feeling. "You're right. If I knew something more, something that could have saved my sister, but blocked it—" She closed her eyes. "This is pointless. And off the subject. We were talking about my mother."
He nodded at her to go on.
"She has a right to know the man sitting in prison for murdering her daughter isn't the man who did it."
Vince sighed. It was a deep, heavy sound. As if he had more to say, and had used the sigh to keep from saying it
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing. If you want to tell her, we'll tell her."
“Today," she said.
"Okay." He flung back the covers, got to his feet.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting up. The storm's fading fast I have things to do."
"Or, maybe you're just in a hurry to get away from me."
He glanced across the room at her. She felt his eyes on her, sliding from her head to her toes, and warming her right through the covers. "I was planning on taking you with me."
"Oh."
"Red, you need to understand something about me."
She flung back her covers, too, got to her feet "You don't do relationships," she said. "I got it."
He gritted his teeth. "Sex for me is a function best served by professionals. I don't like it messy. I don't like feelings and emotions involved. I like it straight up, and quick and meaningless. Like taking a shower. You jump in, you do what needs doing, and you get the hell out. Anything more is a waste of time. If it happens between us, that's the way it's going to be. Just so you know, up front."
She moved closer to him, but didn't touch him. She didn't get close enough to touch him, and when she spoke, she spoke very slowly. "I like long, slow soaks in the tub. Scented salts. Loofah sponges. Expensive shampoos and hot oil treatments. All the trimmings. You ever take baths like that?"
He had closed his eyes for some reason. "Not that I can remember, Red."
"Well, then, maybe you're due."
***
ERNIE GRAYCLOUD OFFERED them a ride back to Holly's house, and Vince took him up on it. They'd showered and had coffee, but passed on the full breakfast Amanda had offered. Vince stood outside the D'Voe mansion, wearing his now-dry clothes—laundered overnight by Amanda—and watching Holly as she thanked Reginald, hugged his neck gently, and moved toward the waiting car. Doc was already behind the wheel.
Vince took his cue, walked up to where Reggie and Amanda stood. He clasped Amanda's hands. "Thanks for everything," he said.
"You're more than welcome."
He reached out to shake Reggie's hand. Reginald slung an arm around Vince's shoulders instead. "I'll walk you to the car."
"No need," Vince began, but Reggie ignored that, kept on limping along beside him, while Amanda stayed where she was, standing on the front step.
"You wanted a private moment, I take it?" Vince asked.
Pausing halfway between the house and the car, Reginald removed his arm from Vince's shoulder, turned to face him. He wore the most menacing look Vince had seen him wear off screen, and the walking stick suddenly looked like a potential weapon. "I want you to stay away from Amanda. Do you understand?"
Vince blinked. "Why?"
The older man's brows lifted. "Why? Because I said so. And because I'm someone you'd be wise not to piss off, young man. I will make you very sorry if you do."
"I see."
"Good."
He wanted to argue with the man, but that was ego and pride and temper. The cop in him had it in hand. He controlled it.
Holly had her window rolled down as he turned and walked toward the car. "Good-bye Amanda," she called, waving once again.
The young woman on the front step waved back, smiling. "I'll see you both soon," she called back. "At the Halloween party. You are coming, aren't you?"
Vince couldn't help it. He should have, but he couldn't. He smiled, shot a sideways glance at Reggie, and said loudly, "We wouldn't miss it."
It was a good thing the man couldn't incinerate things with the power of his evil glare, as he had in The Eyes of Dr. Stark, Vince thought, or his hair would have been smoldering.
He gave a nod, and got into the car.
"I don't think Reggie likes you," Holly said.
"Really? I thought he was downright friendly."
She leaned back in the seat, sighing.
***
HER HOUSE SEEMED different somehow when she walked through the front door that morning. Out of order. Not... right. Her routines were so far out of whack she wondered if she would ever get them back again, and she consciously had to force herself not to count. No. Not to count aloud. Inside her mind, she was counting anyway. Counting the steps from the car up the sidewalk, to the front door. Counting the nine small windowpanes in the door.
She understood the psychology of it. If she stopped counting, she would have room in her mind for the other things. The fears. The memories. The guilt. The knowledge that very bad things could happen to her and to those she loved, at any moment, at any time, without warning or rhyme or reason.
So, silently, she counted.
Waking up in a strange bed, having to take a ride in Dr. Graycloud's car to get back to her own kitchen for morning coffee with her mother, was not the way things were supposed to go.
Vince looked at her, watched her, all the way back to the house. He knew, she thought. He knew how she was feeling right now. He was waiting for her to fall apart, but, dammit, she wouldn't. She refused. So she counted. It was better than the alternative.
Vince opened the door and she went in, stopped walking, and glanced up at her mother. Her mother was at the kitchen table, her coffee mug in her hand. Right where she was supposed to be at this time of the morning. Thank God. Chief Mallory sat beside her. Not across from her. His being there was not part of the daily routine, but was an accepted variation on it. He was there often enough for her to adjust to him. And at least he wasn't in Holly's chair.
"Well. Good morning," her mother said. Her smile was knowing and her cheeks pink as her shining eyes shimmied back and forth between Holly and Vince.
"It's not what you think." Why those were the first words to come out of her mouth, she couldn't imagine. Not when their lives were at risk, and she was about to give her mother news that would alter hers dramatically.
Doris frowned and got to her feet. "Your head ..." She came forward, eyeing the patch Dr. Graycloud had applied to Holly's head.
"It's fine, Mom. But..." She glanced at Vince for help. "We need to talk."
Chief Mallory got to his feet, but Vince held up a hand. "No, Chief, I think you need to be here for this, too. You're going to need to know about all of it, sooner or later."
Nodding, the chief sat back down.
"I don't like the way this is sounding," Doris said. "What's going on with you two?"
Sighing, Holly took her mother's hand. "Come on, Mom. Sit down. How are you feeling this morning?"
"Fine. Better than you, by the looks of you. What happened last night, Holly?"
Holly bit her lip. She walked with her mother back to the table, urged her back into her seat. Then she got two cups, poured coffee for her and Vince, and sat down in her own chair. Vince took his cup, but remained standing. Holly sent him a silent plea. She was gratified that he seemed to read it so easily.
"Last night," he said, "Holly and I took a rowboat out on the lake. The light on the dock went out after dark, and we got lost in the fog. Then the storm started kicking up, and we wound up in the water.” When Doris gasped, he smiled gently at her. "It's okay. As you can s
ee, we're both fine. We did have a heck of a time hiking back from the far side of the lake. The first place we came to was the D'Voe mansion. Reginald was good enough to let us hole up there for the night."
"We'd have called, Mom, but the phones were out."
"My God. In that storm... are you sure you're all right?"
"Yeah. We're fine." Holly reached across the table to squeeze her mother's hand.
Chief Mallory said, "That light is damn near indestructible. We replace it every five years or so, and it isn't due for another two yet."
Vince nodded. "So Holly tells me."
"You think it was deliberate?" the chief asked.
Vince's lips narrowed. "Possibly."
Doris sat perfectly still, just staring from face to face for a moment. "Are you saying ... that someone tried to… kill you?"
"They were probably just trying to scare us. Mom," Holly said. God, she couldn't bear the fear in her mother's eyes.
But Doris was shaking her head, getting to her feet. "And last night, when you were so upset about the door being open. And the intruder at Vince's place. This is all related, isn't it?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I'm afraid it is."
"Mom, it's not going to be easy to hear any of this. I want you to sit down, and just try to listen. Hold on to me, and the chief, and let Vince explain it. Okay?"
She stared at Holly. "What are you saying? Holly, what do you mean?"
"It has to do with Ivy, Mom."
Doris's knees bent. She landed heavily in the chair. "No. No, I don't want to do this."
"I didn't, either," Holly said gently. "But we don't have a choice."
Doris looked at Holly, her eyes big and round and filling with old, old pain. She sought something in Holly's eyes. Holly held her gaze, and, finally, Doris looked away, at Vince, gave him a slight nod.
"Doris, the reason I came here had to do with the deaths of two young children in Syracuse. They were abducted and killed by a pedophile. At the scene, I found a copy of a book that came from the Dilmun Public Library."
"The Gingerbread Man," Holly said softly.
Her mother's eyes fell slowly closed. "It was Ivy's favorite."
"I checked the library's old records, for Vince," the chief told her. "It's the same copy that Holly checked out when she was seven years old."
Doris's eyes snapped open. "The same copy... the same copy Ivy was carrying when she was taken? But how can that be?"
Vince came closer, put a hand on Doris's shoulder. "My theory is that it's the same man, Doris."
She shook her head. "That's impossible. Holly, didn't you tell him? The man who took Ivy is in prison, Vince. He confessed and—"
"I know. Holly and I paid him a visit. We learned some ... disturbing things."
Holly slid out of her chair now, went to kneel in front of her mother. "Mom, Hubey Welles was on a direct path to Death Row when he made that confession. In return for it, he got life in prison. There's a very good chance ... that he lied."
Doris's face lost all color. "No. No, he knew details—"
"None that hadn't made the papers," Vince said. "He made a deal with the D.A., Doris. It was a bad deal. But he took it. He'd have said anything to save his own life."
"Oh, my God," Doris whispered. She was shaking her head slowly, rising to her feet, and staring from one of them to the other. "No. No. This can't be true. I—"
"It's true, Mom. When I saw the man in prison—I suddenly remembered the eyes of the man who took Ivy. And they were different. Totally different. It wasn't him."
Doris looked stricken. Searching each face, almost pleading with them to tell her it wasn't true. She finally settled on Chief Mallory. "Jim?"
"I'm sorry, hon. But it all makes sense."
She stood there, fists clenched, trembling all over, eyes darting around, in search of something. Escape, maybe. Holly looked down and saw blood drip from her mother's fists. She was digging her nails into her palms. "Mom..." Holly reached for her mother.
Doris went limp and her eyes rolled back. The chief and Vince lunged for her at the same time. A chair went flying as the chief hit it in his rush.
It was Jim who gathered her up, held her against him. He looked stricken.
Holly found Vince's eyes, and saw the pain in them. He'd been afraid of this, it was clear. It was the last thing she had expected.
"I don't understand," she whispered. "Mom's always been the strong one."
"She had to be," Vince said. "Because you couldn't. Now you can. And she knows it. The question is, do you?"
FOURTEEN
“I DON'T KNOW what I expected. Devastation, maybe. But not this."
From the uncomfortable green metal lawn chair on the patio, Holly had a clear view of her mother's bedroom door, which was closed, and locked.
"She needs time to digest it all," Vince said. "And you need to stay close to her today."
"Close to her? Close to her? Vince, she's dancing on an icy ledge, and she's going to fall, and it isn't going to matter how close I am when she does." She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. "You were right. God, why did I insist on telling her?"
"She had a right to know."
"I should have waited. Maybe if I'd waited until we caught the guy... God, what if we don't? For Mom, that would be almost like losing Ivy all over again. I don't think she could survive it."
Sighing, Vince moved to stand behind her, hands going to her shoulders, rubbing them briskly like some boxer's trainer in between rounds. "Just be there for her. It's all you can do."
Holly let her head fall forward, let her muscles warm under his touch. "Vince?"
"What?"
She swallowed, hesitated. "I think there was a part of me that wanted to tell Mom what was happening, because—because—" Her throat seemed to close off.
"Because she's your mom. And that's what you do when you're in trouble. You tell your mom, and she protects you from it."
"She tried. I wouldn't have survived it, Vince. She kept me together, all this time." She sniffed. "I'm not sure I can ... get through this without her."
"What are you gonna do? Hmm? You gonna fall off that icy ledge with your mother? Leap off it, maybe? Who the hell's gonna hold on to her if you do?"
She shut her eyes. Vince crouched down, gripping her arms. "Ivy has been gone for almost two decades, Holly. You aren't a little girl anymore, and you aren't the delicate fragile thing everyone's been protecting all this time. You can do this."
She shook her head. Her eyes focused on her feet, her heart aching because she knew he was right.
"You don't have a choice, Red."
Sniffling, Holly lifted her head, nodded once. "I know that."
"Keep on knowing it." He reached up suddenly, cupped her face with his hands. "Don't quit on me. Not now."
"I won't."
He nodded, his eyes probing hers deeply, then darkening, and sliding lower to her lips. He licked his own, and quickly let her go, and looked at the floor.
She leaned closer and pressed her mouth against his. As kisses went, it wasn't much. Hard, cool, all too brief.
He looked at her, but he didn't scold. He sighed, instead, and rose to his full height. "I have some things I need to do."
"What kinds of things?"
"Come on, babe, I'm a detective. What kinds do you think?"
She sent him a scowl.
"Research. Background checks on... some of the players."
"Can I help?"
He shook his head. "No. You need to be here, with your mother. Besides, I need to concentrate on what I'm doing."
"You can't concentrate when I'm around?"
"No."
"Why not?"
He grimaced at her. "If you need me, use the cell phone. I'll be in and out of the cabin, but I'll have it with me, either way. Okay?"
"Okay."
He moved to the sliding doors that led to the living room, then paused. "I want you to call if you feel the slightest unease, H
olly. Don't doubt your instincts at this point. Call if you need me."
"I thought you didn't want me to need you."
He closed his eyes slowly. "You know what I meant."
"Yeah. Don't worry. I'll call. Go."
So he went. She watched him move through the house, stop to speak with Chief Mallory, and then the two of them left together. Seconds after the sounds of their cars pulling away, Holly heard another vehicle come to a stop out front. She went inside, crossed the living room and looked outside. It was one of the local officers. Bill, she thought, glimpsing his blond hair through the windows of the police cruiser. She waved. He waved back.
Holly let the curtain fall closed, and went to her mother's bedroom. Vince said to let her have some time alone. Holly wasn't so sure that was a good idea. She tried the door. It was still locked, but she'd locked herself out of her own room any number of times. The standard locks on the mass-produced door knobs were meant for privacy, not security. She went to the kitchen for a butter knife, put it into the groove in the center of the doorknob, and twisted. Then she opened the door and went inside.
Her mother was curled up on the bed, sobbing softly.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm sorry. Holly. I'm sorry," her mother said. Her voice was thick, and muffled by the pillows. "Look at me. God, I'm such a mess, and goodness knows you don't need this from me. Not now."
She rolled onto her back, and Holly almost gasped at the change in her mother's face. It was like looking back in time. The starkness in her eyes. The color of her skin, sickly pale. The tears had added their marks as well.
Holly blinked her own eyes dry, straightened her spine. "Be back in a second, Mom."
Her mother nodded, and Holly left the room, crossed the hall, and went to her own. In her bathroom, in her medicine cabinet, were several bottles of tranquilizers in various forms and doses. Some nearly empty, some all but full. She chose the Valium, a mild dose, and filled a glass with water, carrying both back to her mother's bedroom. Then she sat on the edge of the bed.
"Here. I want you take this, and no arguments."
Her mother took the pill obediently, which surprised Holly. She'd expected an argument. She slugged down half the glass of water, then handed it back to Holly, and curled up in the bed. "Remember how you and Ivy used to burrow right in between Dad and me when you couldn't sleep?" she asked.
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