“Go to sleep,” John said. “If we have an intruder in Room 1502, the alarm will wake us.”

Outsider.

“I’m not sleepy. I wonder if you…” She started again. “I wonder if you’d like me to tell you about Bonnie?”

She could feel his sudden stillness. “You don’t have to do that. I know it might be painful.”

“Some of it, but most of it is pure joy. I think … I want to share her with you, John. If that’s what you want, too.”

“Oh, my God.”

She didn’t speak for a moment, trying to put her thoughts, her memories together. He had missed so much. Where to start on the story of Bonnie?

The beginning.

“The first time the nurse brought me Bonnie, she said she was magic…”

CHAPTER

16

WEBSTER GROVES WAS A PLEASANT suburb that consisted of a mixture of older homes built in the early nineteenth century and newer homes that appeared sleek but lacked character.

Catherine glanced at her GPS. She should be arriving at Judy Clark’s mother’s home in a few moments. It was close to eleven at night. She might have gone to bed. Should Catherine ring the bell or phone again? Maybe if she told Mrs. Kamski she was outside, she might agree to let her in and talk to her.

Or maybe she would tell Catherine to go take a flying leap.

She’d ring the bell.

The GPS instructed her to turn left at the next street.

She turned on San Cecilia.

Number 230 was halfway down the block, an older two-story clapboard house. Catherine might not have to worry about waking anyone. Lights were still streaming from one of the windows on the first floor.

She pulled into the driveway and got out of the car.

She stopped two feet before she reached the front door.

Oh, shit. She knew that sound.

Moaning. Muffled but still audible.

TV?

She rang the bell.

No answer but that muffled cry of pain.

That was no TV.

She tried the knob. The door swung open.

She froze, her gaze on the staircase facing the door.

A gray-haired woman in a pink, flowered robe was lying on her back, wrists and ankles spread wide and tied to the pickets on either side of that staircase. Her mouth was gagged, her eyes wide open.

Blood everywhere. Her throat had been cut. Dead.

Catherine dove to the side, reaching for her gun. She hit the wall switch and plunged the foyer into darkness before rolling to one side.

She listened.

Nothing.

No, the moaning again.

Coming from the dining room across the foyer.

She waited.

A trap?

But a trap for whom?

She waited a minute more.

No sound but the moaning.

She crawled across the foyer, past the obscenely spread body on the stairs.

A woman was lying on the cherry dining-room table.

Her gaze wandered quickly around the room. Two chairs turned over. Nowhere to hide.

She crawled to the right side of the door and took a chance.

She flipped on the dining-room light.

Judy Clark.

Blue robe she had worn when she had first met her. One fuzzy blue slipper still on her foot, the other lying on the floor beside the table.

She had probably lost it while struggling with the monster who had thrown her on the table and pinned her there with a huge butcher knife through her stomach.

Catherine drew a deep breath and slowly stood up.

“It’s okay, Judy,” she whispered. “I’ll get you help. Is whoever did this still in the house?”

Judy was also gagged, but she shook her head. Then the cords of her throat strained as she tried to talk.

“Wait.” Catherine quickly called 911 and gave them the address and the situation. She cut the questions short and hung up. “Judy, I can’t move you or take out the knife. We’ll have to wait for the EMTs.” She just hoped the ambulance came in time. The blood on the table wasn’t as much as on the stairs, but Catherine couldn’t judge the loss or the trauma of the wound. “They’ll be here soon.”

The woman was still trying desperately to speak.

“I’ll fix that.” Catherine undid the gag. “Now I’ll stay here with you and hold your hand until the ambulance gets here.”

“No.” Judy’s voice was rasping. “Help—find—her.” Her eyes were glittering wildly in her parchment-colored face. “Took— Don’t let him—”

“Shh.” Catherine squeezed her hand. “You said he was gone.”

“But—he—took—her.”

“Who?”

“Cara.”

Oh, dear God. Of course, the little girl. Judy’s little girl.

“I’ll be right back.” She released her hand. “I’ll go check.”

Judy was shaking her head as Catherine ran out of the room. She climbed over the banister and ran up the steps to the second floor. The doors were all open wide. The second room down the hall was a child’s room. Pink princess coverlet on the bed. A Disney clock on the wall.

No little girl.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She quickly checked the other bedrooms.

No little girl. No Cara.

She drew a deep breath.

Damn him.

Then she ran out of the room and a moment later was in the dining room.

“Gone.” The tears were running down Judy’s face. “Cara.”

Catherine took her hand again. “We’ll find her. Do you know who took her?”

She shook her head. “We went to bed—early. Then he was just—there. We didn’t even know him.” The tears were flowing harder. “Mama.”

“I’m sorry.” What else could she say? There weren’t words to express the horror Judy had gone through and was still experiencing. Catherine knew the panic of losing a child to a monster. “I’ll help you find your child.”

“I think … I’m dying. What if—I die? No one may ever find her.”

“I told you, I’ll find her.”

“Promise me.” Judy’s gaze was desperately holding Catherine’s. “Promise—”

“I promise.” She only hoped she could find the child alive. “But she’ll need you after she comes home. You’ve got to be quiet and do everything you can to get well.”

“Needs me…” Judy’s eyes closed. “I’ll … try…”

Catherine heard the sound of sirens in the distance.

Lord, let them get here in time.

*   *   *

CATHERINE CALLED JOE AND FILLED him in from the waiting room at the hospital.

“Could you get a description?”

“I didn’t try yet. Neither did the police. She’s in surgery. She may not make it, Joe. Whoever did this wanted to leave her enough alive to send a message. But he didn’t give a damn what kind of damage he did with that butcher knife.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“That’s what I say. He took the kid, Joe. Anyone who would do what he did to those two women would think nothing of torturing and murdering a kid.”

“And you’re mad as hell.”

“I keep thinking of Luke and how I felt when my son was taken.”

“You have a copy of the photo of Paul Black that Eve gave us. Can you show it to her as soon as possible?”

“I’ll have to find a way to get in to see her. The only reason the police didn’t take me in for questioning was that I’m CIA. They may still do it if they get enough heat. The murder of Judy Clark’s mom was ugly and senseless, and that scares people.”

“Let me know.”

“Any leads on Eve?”

“Not yet.” He hung up.

Catherine sat back down and sipped her coffee.

Joe had been curt and on edge, and who could blame him?

The violence was escalating by the minute, and it all seemed to be heading toward Eve.

What if it wasn’t Paul Black who had committed these atrocities? It could be someone else that Queen had hired.

And what would she do if she found out from Judy that it was Black? The taking of Cara Clark opened a whole new avenue of threat. Why was the child taken and not murdered? Why had Judy been left alive to tell them? The kidnapping would be a weapon that might be impossible to overcome. She knew the helplessness and fear that could cripple you when you thought that your action could result in the killing of the helpless.