Innocent In Death

19

ANGELA MILES-BRANCH OPENED THE DOOR HERSELF. She was dressed uptown casual in tweed pants and a cream angora turtleneck. On her feet were soft, low-heeled leather boots in the same tone as the sweater.

She led them both into a stylishly streamlined living room. “I assume this is about the situation at Sarah Child. Melodie’s in her room, currently not speaking to me.”

“Oh?” was all Eve said.

“I’ve taken her out of the academy. I’m not sending my daughter to a school where there have been two murders. She’s upset that I won’t factor in her side of things, as in, her best friends in the entire universe go there, she doesn’t want to go to another school where she doesn’t know anyone and where they have to wear uniforms that are minus-zero, and so on.”

Like a woman suffering battle fatigue, Angela dropped into a chair. “We’re head-to-head on this issue, and since I’m in charge of her life for the next several years, I win. Still.” She sighed, pushed at her bright hair. “It’s awful to be ten and think your entire world just broke to pieces on you. I’m giving her the time and space to sulk and be mad at me.”

“It sounds like you’re doing exactly what you feel is best for your kid,” Peabody commented. “Kids don’t always get it. That’s why they’re not in charge.”

“Thanks for that. I’m not the only parent who’s taken this step, or is seriously considering taking it. Melodie doesn’t get that either. So, I’m hoping that at least a couple of the kids she knows and likes end up at West Side Academy, where I enrolled her yesterday. Meanwhile…” She trailed off, let her hands lift and fall.

“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, whatis 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 anoath. ”

“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 tellanyone 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 needsmy 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, sheis 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 isgermane 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, whenshe 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.”

“Get it, then. Take it away. Take it away and leave me alone.”

They searched. They went over every inch of the bedroom, the playroom. They turned out drawers, emptied the closet, searched among the toys, the art supplies.

“Maybe she hid it in another part of the house,” Peabody suggested.

“Or has it with her. Either way, we’ll get it. The fact that it exists has some weight. We need to interview the aunt, and get some eyes on the kid right away. If she’s got it, I don’t want her mother shifting her feet, and getting word to the kid we’re looking for it. Let’s-hell.”

She broke off to pull out her communicator. “Dallas.”

“Lieutenant, report to my office. Immediately.”

“Sir, I’m at this moment in the process of gathering evidence I believe will lead to an arrest on the Foster and Williams investigations.”

“I want you in my office, Lieutenant Dallas, before you take any further steps. Is that clear?”

“Sir, it’s clear. I’m on my way. Fuck,” she added after she’d ended the transmission. She glanced at her wrist unit, calculated. “Museum tour. Met. Get there, shadow the suspect.”

“But Dallas, the commander ordered-”

“Me. He didn’t say anything about you. I want you to locate the suspect and keep her under surveillance. Keep me apprised. Don’t let her make you, Peabody.”

“Well, Jesus, she’s ten. I think I can shadow a tweener without being made.”

“Thistweener is the prime suspect in two homicides, and very possibly guilty of fratricide as well. You’re not shadowing a kid, Peabody, and don’t forget it.”

She dumped Peabody at the elegant entrance of the Metropolitan Museum, then headed downtown. As she drove, she contacted one Quella Harmon in Taos, New Mexico.

Even as Peabody climbed the long sweep of steps, she wondered how the hell she was supposed to find one kid and her Irish au pair in the vast cathedral to art.

And as she wondered, Cora bundled Rayleen into a cab on Eighty-first Street.

“But Mom’s supposed to meet us, and take me to lunch.”

“Well, she’s rung me up, hasn’t she, and said she needs you home straightaway. So home we go, Ray darling.”

Rayleen gave a windy sigh, and clutched her pretty pink fur purse.

Both Mira and Whitney were waiting for her, and both looked grim.

“Sit down, Lieutenant.”

With no choice, Eve sat.

“Your partner?”

“She’s in the field, sir.”

Whitney’s lips tightened. “I considered it understood I wanted both of you here, and neither of you in the field at this time.”

“I apologize for the misunderstanding, Commander.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Dallas, I’m not in the mood. I’ve read your report, and it’s my opinion that you’re putting this investigation, and this department, in a very tenuous position.”

“I disagree, respectfully. Sir.”

“You’re pursuing an avenue that is fraught with land mines, and pursuing it without any solid physical evidence, any solid facts.”

“Again, sir, I disagree. The suspect-”

“The child,” he corrected.

“The suspect is a minor. That doesn’t preclude her from being capable of murder. Children have been known to kill, and to kill with malice. With intent, even with glee.”

Whitney laid the palms of his hands on his desk. “This girl is the daughter of one of the city’s most prominent defense attorneys. She is well educated, she is the product of a privileged home, and even according to your own report has never been involved in any crime, much less one of violence. Has never been treated for any emotional or mental instability. Dr. Mira?”

“Children do commit violent acts,” Mira began. “And while there are certainly cases where a child of this age, even younger, has killed, such cases usually involve other children. Such cases are most generally preceded by smaller acts of violence. On pets, for instance. Rayleen Straffo’s profile doesn’t indicate any predilection for violence.”

Eve had expected barriers to be erected, but it didn’t stop the frustration. “So because her father’s rich and she aces it in school and doesn’t kick little puppies, I should step back from what I know.”

“What do you know?” Whitney interrupted. “You know that this girl attended a school where two teachers were murdered. So did over a hundred other children. You know that her mother had admitted to having a brief affair with the second victim.”

Eve got to her feet; she couldn’t handle this sitting down. “I know that the suspect found the first victim, that she had opportunity in both cases, I know that she had the means. I’ve spoken with her aunt, and have learned that the suspect had access to castor beans, and was showed how the oil was made from them. I know that she did, in fact, have a diary that she removed from the penthouse before the search, giving same to a friend to hold until yesterday.”

Whitney inclined his head. “You have this diary?”

“I don’t. I believe the suspect has hidden or destroyed it, or is currently keeping it on her person. She removed it because it would incriminate her.”

“Eve, a great many young girls keep diaries, and consider them sacred and private,” Mira began.

“She’s not a young girl in anything other than years. I’ve looked at her. I know what she is. You don’t want to look,” she said, whipping back to Whitney. “People don’t want to look at a child, at the innocence of the face and form, and see evil. But that’s what’s in her.”

“Your opinion, however passionate, isn’t evidence.”

“If she were ten years older, five years older, you wouldn’t question my opinion. If you can’t trust my instincts and intellect and my skill, let me factor in more data. I killed at eight.”

“We’re aware of that, Eve,” Mira said gently.

“And you think I look at her and see myself? That this is some sort of transference?”

“I know when we spoke at the early stages of this investigation you were troubled. You were upset and very stressed over a personal matter.”

“Which has nothing to do with this. It may have distracted me, and that’s on me. But it doesn’t apply to my conclusions in this case. You’re not letting me do the job because of this bull.”

“Careful, Lieutenant,” Whitney warned.

She was done being careful. “That’s what she’s counting on. That we’ll all be so fucking careful. That we won’t look at her because she’s a nice little girl from a nice family. She killed two people inside of a week. And she’s got me beat, because she killed at seven. Not her father, but her two-year-old brother.”

Whitney’s eyes narrowed. “You included the information on Trevor Straffo in your earlier reports, and the investigator’s report, the ME’s report, which both concluded accidental death.”

“They were both wrong. I’ve spoken with Allika Straffo.”

While Eve fought to make her case and Peabody sat in the Met’s security office scanning the screens for Rayleen, Allika sent Cora away again.

“It’s your half-day off.”

“But you don’t look well, missus. I’m happy to stay. I’ll make you some tea.”

“No. No. It’s just a headache. Rayleen and I will be fine. We’ll be fine. We’ll…we’ll just have some lunch here, then go ahead to the salon.”

“I’ll put lunch together for you then, and-”

“We’ll manage, Cora. Go meet your friends.”

“If you’re sure then. You can ring me back anytime. I’m not doing anything special.”

“Enjoy yourself. Don’t worry about us.” Allika nearly cracked before she could get Cora out the door. Then she leaned back against it. “Rayleen,” she murmured. “Rayleen.”

“What’s the matter, Mommy?” Rayleen’s eyes were sharp as lasers. “Why can’t we go to lunch at Zoology? I love seeing the animals.”

“We can’t. We have to leave. We’re going to take a trip. A trip.”

“Really.” Now Rayleen brightened. “Where? Where are we going? Will there be a pool?”

“I don’t know. I can’t think.” How could shethink? “We have to go.”

“You’re not even dressed.”

“I’m not dressed?” Allika looked down, studying her robe as if she’d never seen it before.

“Are you sick again? I hate when you’re sick. When’s Daddy coming home?” she asked, already losing interest in her mother. “When are we leaving?”

“He’s not coming. Just you and me. It’s best. That’s best. We have to pack. They didn’t find it, but they’ll come back again.”

“Find what?” Now Rayleen’s attention swung back and zeroed in. “Who’ll come back?”

“They looked.” Allika’s gaze shifted up. “But they didn’t find it. What should I do? What’s best for you?”

Without a word, Rayleen turned away to walk upstairs. She stood at the doorway of her room, saw that her things were moved. And she understood perfectly.

She’d imagined something like this. In fact, she’d written what she could do, might need to do, in her diary the night before. Even as she walked down the hall to her parents’ room, her only genuine emotion was a quiet fury that her things had been gone through again, moved around, left untidy.

She liked her thingsexact. She expected her personal space to berespected.

She went into her mother’s drawers where the medications were hidden. As if anyone could actually hide something from her. They were so stupid, really. She slipped the bottle of sleeping pills into her purse along with her diary, then moved to the sitting area and programmed herbal tea.

Her mother favored ginseng. She programmed it sweet, though her mother rarely took much sweetener.

Then she dissolved a killing dose of sleeping pills into the sweet, fragrant tea.

It was all simple, really, and she’d thought about doing this before. Considered it. They would think her mother had self-terminated, out of guilt and despair. They’d think her mother had killed Mr. Foster, Mr. Williams, then hadn’t been able to live with it.

She knew her mother had had sex with Mr. Williams. She’d confessed it the night before the police had come to search. Rayleen was good at hearing things adults didn’t want her to hear. Her mother and father had talked and talked, and her mother had cried like a baby. Disgusting.

And her father had forgiven her mother. It had been a mistake, he said. They’d start fresh.

That had been disgusting, too-just like the sounds they’d made when they had sex after. If anyone lied to her the way her mother had to her father, she’d have made them pay. And pay and pay.

Actually, that’s what she was doing now, she decided as she set the oversized teacup on a tray. Mommy had to be punished for being bad. And by punishing her, it would all be tidied up again.

Then it would just be her and Daddy. She’d really be his one and only with Mommy gone.

She’d have to put her diary in the recycler now, and that made her mad. All because of that mean, nosy Lieutenant Dallas. One day she’d find a way to makeher pay for that.

But for now, it was better to get rid of it.

Daddy would buy her a brand-new one.

“Rayleen.” Allika came to the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“I think you should rest, Mommy. Look, I made you tea. Ginseng because you like it best. I’m going to take good care of you.”

Allika looked at the cup on the tray, on the bed. Everything inside her went weak. “Rayleen.”

“You’re tired and you have a headache.” Rayleen folded down the duvet, the sheets, plumped the pillows. “I’m going to make it all better. I’m going to sit with you while you rest. We girls have to take care of each other, don’t we?”

Rayleen turned with a bright, bright smile.

And maybe it was best, Allika thought as she moved like a sleepwalker to the bed. Maybe it was the only way. She let Rayleen smooth out the sheets, let her place the tray, even lift the cup.

“I love you,” Allika said.

“I loveyou, Mommy. Now drink your tea, and everything will be better.”

With her eyes on her daughter’s, Allika drank.