Jane whirled on Eve and struck her in the rib cage with the bat. Pain seared through Eve. She was barely able to dodge as the girl swung the bat at her head.

"Creep." Tears were running down her face. "Fucking creep." She swung the bat again. "I'll kill you, you dirty--"

Joe dove from his knees and brought Jane down.

"Don't hurt her," Eve gasped.

"Don't hurt her? I may have to have a knee replacement." He straddled the struggling child. "And she tried to knock your brains out."

"She's scared. We broke into the house. She thought--" Blood. The little girl was covered in blood. Her cheeks, lips, hands . . . "Oh, my God, she's hurt, Joe. He hurt her." She fell to her knees beside the girl and brushed the hair away from her cheek.

Jane sank her teeth into Eve's hand.

Joe pried her teeth apart and jerked Eve's hand away. "Careful." He cupped Jane's jaw and held it shut while he stared down into her eyes. "We're not going to hurt you, dammit. We're here to help. Now, where's Ms. Sugarton?"

Jane glared up at him.

"Police. Detective Quinn." He reached into his pocket and showed her his badge. He repeated, "We're here to help."

The child relaxed a little.

"Where are you hurt?" Eve asked.

Jane was still glaring at Joe. "Get off me."

"Get off her, Joe."

"This could be a mistake." Joe stood up and grabbed the bat.

Jane slowly sat up. "Lousy cop. Why weren't you here before?" Tears were running down her cheeks again. "Never here when anyone needs you. Lousy cop. Lousy cop . . ."

"I'm here now. Where are you hurt?"

"Not hurt. She's hurt."

Eve stiffened. "Ms. Sugarton?"

"Fay." Jane looked toward the kitchen. "Fay."

"Jesus." Eve jumped to her feet and ran toward the kitchen.

BLOOD.

And more blood.

On the Formica table.

On the overturned kitchen chair.

On the tile floor where Fay Sugarton lay slumped, eyes staring at them across the room, throat gaping where it had been slashed.

"Don't move." Joe was standing beside her. "There could be tracks. We don't want to disturb them."

"She's dead," Eve said dully.

"Yes." He turned her around and gave her a push toward the living room. "Go back and take care of the kid while I call this in. See if she saw anyone."

She couldn't tear her gaze from those staring dead eyes. "Dom," she whispered. "It has to be Dom."

"Go."

She nodded and moved slowly from the kitchen.

Jane was sitting huddled against a wall, her knees drawn up to her chest. "She's dead, isn't she?"

"Yes." She dropped down on the floor beside her. "Did you see anyone?"

"I tried to help her. She was bleeding. I tried to stop the bleeding . . . but I couldn't. I couldn't stop it. My health teacher said if we ever have an accident, we should always stop the bleeding first. I couldn't do it. I couldn't stop it."

Eve wanted to reach out and draw Jane close, but she could almost see the wall the child had built around herself. "It wasn't your fault. I'm sure she was already dead."

"Maybe not. Maybe I could have helped her if I'd been smarter. I didn't pay much attention to what my teacher said. I didn't think--I didn't know--"

Eve couldn't stand it. She reached out and tentatively touched the child's shoulder.

Jane jerked away. "Who are you?" she said fiercely. "Are you a cop too? Why weren't you here? Why did you let this happen?"

"I'm not police, but I have to know what happened. Did you see--" To hell with it. The child was in no shape to answer questions. "What do you say we go on the porch and wait for the police to get here?"

At first she didn't think the girl would agree, but then Jane rose to her feet and strode out of the house. She sat down on the top porch step.

Eve sat down beside her. "My name is Eve Duncan. The detective inside is Joe Quinn."

The girl stared straight ahead.

"You're Jane MacGuire?"

The girl didn't answer.

"If you don't want to talk, that's fine. I know you must have cared very much for Ms. Sugarton."

"I didn't care anything about her. I just lived with her."

"I don't think that's true, but we won't talk about it now. We won't talk at all. I just thought it would make you feel better if we weren't strangers."

"Talking doesn't mean anything. You're still a stranger."

And the child was going to make sure she stayed that way, Eve thought. The tears were gone, but her back was straight and rigid and the wall of distrust was higher than ever. Who could blame her? Any other child would have been in hysterics. It might have been a healthier reaction than withdrawal. "I don't feel much like talking either. We'll just sit here and wait. Okay?"

Jane didn't look at her. "Okay."