Chase rolled his eyes. “I’m tired, Mary. For the last hour I’ve had my guts sliced and diced by my boss and his boss. Tell me you’ve made progress with Hope.”

Mary lifted a shoulder. “You’re a big boy, Chase. You can take a little slicing and dicing. Hope’s a traumatized child. She can’t.”

Chase started to rant, but Daniel cut him off. “What have you been able to learn, Mary?” Daniel asked calmly, and Mary sat down in one of his chairs.

“Not much. Dr. Fallon did exactly what I would have. She’s used play therapy and made Hope feel safe. I can’t pull anything out of Hope that she’s not ready to let go.”

“So you have nothing.” Chase banged his head against the wall. “Wonderful.”

Mary threw an annoyed glance over her shoulder. “I didn’t say we have nothing. I said we have not much.” She pulled a piece of paper from her folder. “She drew this.”

Daniel studied the page. It was the crude drawing style of a child, one figure prone, the head scribbled over with red. The other figure, male and standing upright, nearly filled the page. “It’s more than we’ve gotten before. Since she was found in that closet on Friday she’s only colored predrawn pictures in coloring books.”

Mary got up and went around to his side of the desk. “As close as we can figure, this is Bailey.” She pointed to the prone figure.

“Yeah, that I got. The red was the giveaway.” He looked up at her from the corner of his eye. “Meredith Fallon told you about the pizza sauce and the Play-Doh, right?”

“Yes.” Mary frowned. “I hated to push this baby this far, but we need to find out exactly what she saw.” She pointed to the figure standing up. “Bailey’s attacker.”

“Well, yeah, I got that, too. He’s huge, three times bigger than Bailey.”

“It’s not the man’s actual size,” Mary said.

“It’s his threat, his power,” Chase said from the door and looked a bit sheepish when Mary looked up, surprised. “I’m not a monster, Mary. I know this kid’s been through hell. But the sooner she gets it out, the sooner you can start… fixing her.”

Mary sighed with affectionate exasperation. “We’ll treat her, Chase. Not fix her.” She looked back down at the picture. “He’s wearing a cap.”

“A baseball cap?” Daniel asked.

“Hard to say. Kids her age only have a limited number of graphic images they can draw. All hats mostly look the same. All figures look the same. But look at his hand.”

Daniel rubbed his eyes and brought the picture close. “A stick. Dripping with blood.”

“Did Ed’s team find any bloody sticks?” she asked.

“They’re still processing the scene,” Daniel said. “They’ve set up lights in the woods, looking for the place where Hope might have hidden. Why’s the stick so small?”

“Because she’s repressing it,” Chase said. “It terrifies her, so she makes it as small as she can in her mind.”

Mary nodded. “Pretty much. I thought you’d want to see this. We broke for the night. After we got this, I was afraid to push her anymore. We can continue tomorrow. Get some rest, Daniel.” One side of her mouth lifted. “Doctor’s orders.”

“I’ll try. Good night, Mary.” When she’d gone, Daniel looked at Hope’s drawing, feeling guilty and torn. “Part of me wants all three of them in a safe house, Alex, Hope, and Meredith. But so far Hope and Alex are our only link to whoever’s orchestrating this. If we hide them away…”

Chase nodded. “I know. I increased the police presence. Twenty-four-seven. That’s part of what was on the agenda in this last meeting.”

“That should settle Alex’s mind. And mine. Thank you, Chase.”

“Mary’s right. Get some sleep, Daniel. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll have Ed meet us at eight,” Daniel said, mentally calculating how long the commute would be from Dutton to the GBI building with morning traffic. Because even with the police presence outside, Daniel wasn’t taking any chances. There was a sofa in the bungalow’s living room. He’d be sleeping there tonight.

Tuesday, January 30, 9:00 p.m.

His cell phone rang. The one that wasn’t registered in his name. He didn’t have to look at the caller ID. He was the only one who ever called this number.

“Yeah.” He sounded tired to his own ears. Because he was. Body and… soul. If he still had a soul. He remembered the look in Rhett Porter’s eyes. Help me.

“Is it done?” His voice was cold and would suffer no weakness.

So he straightened his spine. “Yeah. Rhett went up in a blaze of glory.”

He grunted. “Shoulda fed him to the gators like you did DJ.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. I didn’t have time to get down to the swamp and back. Look, I’m tired. I’m going home and-”

“No, you’re not.”

He wanted to sigh, but he sucked it in. “And why not?”

“Because you’re not finished.”

“I’ll take care of Fallon. I’ve already got plans in motion. Discreet plans.”

“Good, but now there’s more. Vartanian went out to dinner tonight with Alex Fallon and Bailey’s kid.”

“The kid’s talking?”

“No.” There was an angry pause. “But she covered her face in pizza sauce. Like she was covered in blood.”

He froze, his mind wildly searching for an explanation. “That’s impossible. She was in the closet. She didn’t see anything.”

“Then maybe she’s psychic.” The words were biting and harsh. “But Bailey’s kid saw something, Sweetpea.”

His gut twisted. “No.” She’s just a child. He’d never… “She’s only a little girl.”

“If she saw you, you’re fucked.”

“She didn’t see me.” Desperation clawed at his throat. “I was outside.”

“Then you went inside.”

“But all she would have seen is me trashing the place. I grabbed Bailey outside.”

“And I’m telling you a restaurant full of people saw that kid cover her face in sauce.”

“Kids do that. Nobody’ll think anything of it.”

“On its own, perhaps not.”

“What else?” he asked dully.

“Sheila Cunningham.”

He closed his eyes. “What did she say?”

“Mostly that Bailey wasn’t the trashy slut everyone’s made her out to be. And that while everyone is upset about the rich girls’ being dead, that nobody cared about the regular girls, that nobody cares about Bailey.”

“That’s all?” He felt marginally better. “So she didn’t say anything.”

“Weren’t you listening to me?”

“Yes, I was,” he said, defensive now. “What are you talking about?”

There was total silence on the other end, and in the quiet, the words clicked.

“Oh, hell.”

“Yeah. And you can bet good old Danny boy heard it, too. He’s no idiot.”

He absorbed the barb. “So did he talk any more with Sheila?”

“Not yet. He whisked Bailey’s kid out of there so fast it made everybody’s head spin. But he did give Sheila his card.”

Fuck. “Were you there?”

“Yes. I saw it all. And people are talking all over town.”

“Has Vartanian gone back to talk to Sheila again?”

“Not yet. They took the kid back to the place the Fallon woman is renting, then fifteen minutes later all four of them piled in Vartanian’s car and headed out of town.”

“Wait. I thought you said there were three.”

“You don’t know what’s going on in your own town, do you? The Tremaine woman’s brought her cousin in to help her take care of the kid. The woman’s a kid shrink.”

What little hope he had of being able to control what happened next fizzled and died. “You want them all gone?”

“Discreetly. If Vartanian knows they’re dead, he won’t stop till he finds out who did it. So make it look like they all just went home.”

“He’ll find out sooner or later.”

“And by then I will have dealt with him. Take care of Sheila first, then the other three. Call me when you’re done.”

Tuesday, January 30, 11:30 p.m.

Mack looked up from the ’Vette’s engine to where Gemma Martin lay on his makeshift garage floor, wide-eyed, hog-tied, and terrified. “You’ve kept the engine well maintained,” he said with approval. “This one I believe I’ll keep.” He had buyers already lined up for the Z and the Mercedes. It was one of the few perks of being inside. You met all kinds of helpful people.