Innocent in Death (28 page)

“Why can’t it be both?”

He beamed those blue eyes at her. “There’s my Valentine.”

She expected the nightmare, and still wasn’t prepared for it. She wasn’t prepared to see herself as she’d once been—small and thin—standing in Rayleen’s pink-and-white room.

She didn’t like the dolls, she didn’t like the way they stared and stared like dead people, but still seemed to watch her. But it was so warm, and the air smelled so nice.

The bed looked like something out of the fairy tale she’d once watched on screen when no one was around to stop her. A princess bed. Nothing bad would ever happen in a bed like that.

No one would come in, in the dark, lie on top of her, hurt her, hurt her. Not in that beautiful, beautiful bed.

She walked to it, but was afraid to touch. She reached out, then jerked her hand back. He’d probably beat her if she touched it. Probably pound his fists on her if she touched something so beautiful.

“Go ahead. You can touch it. You can even lie down on it.”

She whirled around. It wasn’t him. It was a little girl, like her. But not like her. Her hair was shiny, her face was pretty and soft-looking. There were no bruises on it. She smiled.

“This is my room.”

“You’re the princess,” Eve murmured.

The little girl’s smile widened. “That’s right. I’m the princess. Everything here is mine. If I say you can touch something, you can. If I don’t, and you do, I can have you thrown in the dungeon. Where it’s dark all the time.”

Eve whipped her hands behind her back. “I didn’t touch anything.”

“You have to ask first, then I’ll give my permission. Or I won’t.” The pretty little girl walked over to a table where a pink and white tea set was laid out. “I think we should have some hot chocolate. I have my servants make it whenever I want it. Do you like hot chocolate?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had any. Is it good?”

Rayleen poured it from pot to cup. “It’s a killer.” Then she laughed, and laughed. “You have to drink it if I say you do. You’re in my room, and I’m the princess. I say it’s time for you to drink your hot chocolate.”

Obediently—she’d learned to be obedient—Eve stepped over and picked up one of the pink cups. She sipped. “It’s…it’s so good. I never had anything like it.” She drank it fast, greedily, then held out the cup. “Could I have more?”

“All right.” Rayleen’s smile was sharp now, like her eyes. In the look Eve saw something that made her stomach fist. And when Rayleen poured from pot to cup, what streamed out was red, red blood.

Biting back a scream, Eve dropped the cup. The red spread and pooled on the white carpet.

“Now look what you’ve done! You’ll have to pay for that.” Setting down the pot, Rayleen clapped her hands twice.

And he came in, smiling that sharp smile, looking with those sharp eyes.

“No. Please. I didn’t mean it. I’ll clean it up. Please, don’t. Please.”

“I’ve been looking for you, little girl,” her father said.

He struck her first, one quick, hard blow that sent her sprawling to the floor. Then he fell on her.

She fought, she begged, she screamed when the bone in her arm snapped like a pencil. While Rayleen stood, idly sipping from her cup.

“Only one way to stop it,” Rayleen said as he began to push and shove himself inside Eve, to tear her. “Killing takes care of everything. So kill him. Kill him. Kill him.”

Rayleen chanted it, her voice rising with excitement.

“Kill him!”

Finding the knife in her hand, Eve did.

Ssh, ssh. Stop now, Eve. Just a dream. Nothing but a dream. You need to wake up for me. Come back to me now. I have you.”

“It was blood. Pink and white and red. All the blood.”

“It’s done now. You’re awake now, with me now.” They tore at him, these nightmares, even as they tore at her. He held her, and rocked her, pressing his lips to her hair, her temples, even when she’d stopped shaking.

When she turned her face against his throat, he felt the tears.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, baby. Don’t.”

“Am I projecting, Roarke? Is that all it is? Do I look at that kid and see all I never had, never felt, never knew? Is it some sort of jealousy? Is it all just some sort of twisted envy? With Magdelana, too?”

Now he drew her back, ordered the lights on at ten percent so she could see his face, see his eyes. “It’s not, no. It could never be. You don’t have it in you for that. If I planted that there with Magdelana, the flaw was mine. You look straight, darling Eve. You see what is, even when you’d rather not. And you look at things others turn from.”

“They’d have locked me away for what I did to him.”

“You’re wrong. And if they had, even for an hour, for the smallest part of an hour, even God would have had no pity on them for it.” He stroked the tears away with his thumbs. “The cop in you knows that perfectly well.”

“Maybe. Yes. Most of the time.” Sighing, she let her head rest on his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Part of the service. Can you sleep now?”

“Yeah.”

He lay down with her, kept his arms wrapped around her, and dimmed the lights again.

It left her draggy in the morning, as nightmares often did. But she put it away. By eight she was dressed, fueled, and ready to deal with what needed to be done.

“How are you going to approach this?” Roarke asked her.

“I expect both Mira and Whitney to contact me after they’ve read the report I sent them last night. Meanwhile, I’m hitting the best pal first. If I get lucky, there’s a diary and best pal has it for safekeeping.”

She sat on the arm of the sofa in the bedroom sitting area and drank her second cup of coffee. “Then I try for Allika. Straffo has a golf date this morning—nine-thirty tee time, then lunch at his club. The kid has a nine-o’clock deal at something called Brain Teasers, followed by a museum trip. Allika’s supposed to meet the kid and au pair at one, take over as the au pair has the rest of the day off. There’s lunch at a place called Zoology, followed by mother-daughter salon treatments this afternoon.”

“Full day.”

“Yeah, they fill ’em. I’m banking on catching Allika alone at the penthouse this morning. Depending on the results, I’ll either pick up the kid or have a sit-down with Mira and/or Whitney first. Interviewing the kid’s the tough part. Her father’s going to block me, Child Protection’s going to weigh in. I need more than theory and more than circumstantial to break it down.”

“Full day for you, too.”

“I can still manage sex and dinner.”

He laughed. “I like the order of this evening’s menu. Here, have this first.”

He walked to his closet, brought back a box wrapped in Valentine red, topped with a white silk bow.

“Oh, man.”

“I know, yes. A gift.” His lips twitched in amusement. “So annoying. Open it anyway.”

She lifted the lid, found another box inside of dull gold. Nestled in it on red velvet was a long, slim bottle.

She’d expected jewelry, it was his habit to buy her glitters. And she supposed he had as—knowing him—the stones encrusted on the bottle wouldn’t be glass. Who would buy a bottle decorated with diamonds and rubies except Roarke?

She lifted it, studied the pale gold liquid inside. “Magic potion?”

“It may be. Scent. Yours. Made it for you—your skin, your style, your preferences. Here.” He took it, lifted the ruby stopper, then dabbed some on her wrist himself. “See what you think.”

She sniffed, frowned, sniffed again. It was subtle, and it wasn’t frilly. Wasn’t what she thought of as flower juice or come-nail-me-against-the-nearest-wall musk.

“And?”

“It’s nice. More—I guess, it’s one more thing that proves you know me.” To please him, she stroked a little on her throat. “You know the bottle’s over the top, right?”

“Naturally. The diamonds are from the Forty-seventh Street heist.”

“Yeah?” The idea of it amused and delighted her. “That’s fairly frosty.” She took the bottle to her dresser, high enough that Galahad couldn’t leap with the pudge he carried. Then she came back and offered her neck for a sniff. “And?”

“Perfectly you.” He tugged on her hair to lower her face for a kiss. “My one and only Valentine.”

“Save that sloppy talk for later. I have to get moving. Peabody will be here any minute, or risk having her ass kicked.”

“Should we say dinner at eight, unless work intervenes?”

“Eight. I’ll try to make sure to wrap up whatever I can wrap up by seven-thirty.”

Though she’d read Eve’s report as ordered before she arrived, Peabody was still resistant to the idea of, as she put it, a kiddie killer.

“Okay, I know, at some of the rougher schools, teachers and other students have been threatened or attacked. Stickers, fists, hell, kitchen utensils. But those are hard-line situations and most often involve hard-line kids.”

“So because this one wears a nice uniform and lives in a penthouse, she’s immune.”

“No, but it’s a different foundation. And we’re talking about revenge crimes, impulse violence or innate violent tendencies. In this case, they’re premeditated and coolly executed without any clear-cut motive.”

“Motive will come.”

“Dallas, I went through Foster’s records. I went through Williams’s records. There were a handful of disciplinary actions and/or parental conferences due to behavior, slipping grades, chronic lateness on assignments and that sort of thing. But not one of them involved Rayleen Straffo. Her grades are stellar, her deportment evaluations the same. She’s top of the class.”

“Maybe she doctored them.”

“Man, you’ve got it in for her.” Immediately, Peabody winced. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I just can’t get there with you. I just don’t see it. I sure don’t feel it.”

“Let’s follow through on these interviews today. Maybe one of us will change her mind.”

The in-dash ’link signaled as Eve pulled to the curb in front of the building where Melodie Branch lived.

“Dallas.”

“Eve, I’ve read your report.” Mira’s face was knitted with concern. “We need to discuss this. At length.”

“Figured that. This isn’t a good time. I’m about to do a follow-up with a wit.”

“Not Rayleen Straffo.”

“Not at this time, no. I can meet with you, and with the commander—as I’m sure he’ll feel this requires a discussion as well—this afternoon.”

“All right. I’ll contact the commander now and set it up. I’d prefer you didn’t speak with Rayleen Straffo until we’ve had this discussion.”

“She’s pretty booked up today anyway. It can wait. From what I’m hearing, you’re not on board with me on this.”

“We’ll discuss it this afternoon. I do have some concerns, yes. Tread carefully here, Eve.”

“I’ll do my best.” Eve clicked off. “Sounds like Mira’s on your side of the line with this one.”

“It’s not sides, Dallas.”

“No. You’re right.”

But it felt like sides, Eve thought, as she got out of the car and started into the building with the full intention of intimidating a young girl into betraying her best friend.

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, what
is
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 an
oath
. ”

“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 tell
anyone
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 needs
my
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 is
germane
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, when
she
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.