“’Kay. It was bad, and they keep asking questions. I did everything right.”
“Of course you did.”
The man came back, and she found herself much more frightened of the man.
“I did it all perfectly. Why do they care about a fingernail? Why did they even notice when I did it all perfectly? It had to be perfect, had to be right. I take pride in my work.”
“Of course you do.” What did it mean? Keep him talking. “You’re so good at it. You’re the best.”
The man looked at her with glittering eyes. “How do you know? You went away. You left me.”
“I’m so sorry, baby darling. I’m so sorry I went away, but I’m here now.”
“You left me, and I couldn’t find you.” He began to tap his fist on the counter. “You forgot me. You never tried to find me.”
“I’m so ashamed.” It wasn’t hard to work up tears. “I’ll never forgive myself. How could I forgive myself? All I can do is try to make it up to you. Try to be a good mommy and take care of you, and be here, and listen when you’ve had a bad day.”
“I had to pretend to make a mistake. I don’t make mistakes.”
“But it was just pretend. It’s okay to pretend.”
“I don’t make mistakes,” he repeated, “so they won’t find out because they’ll believe what I said.”
“Absolutely.”
“They’d be mean to me if they knew. But the others, they were wrong. They made mistakes, so I knew they were wrong.” He studied her like something smeared on a slide under a microscope. “Maybe you’re wrong, too. There’s another. I’ll bring her home tonight. She could be the right one.”
Mary Kate went with instinct, took the risk. “What a thing to say! I said I was sorry, I’m trying to make up for it. But you’re hurting my feelings anyway. I’m the only one.”
She knuckled a tear away. “I made an awful mistake, but I’m trying so hard.”
“Don’t cry, Mommy.”
“I just—I want us to be happy together again, and for you to believe me, and let me fix you snacks when you come home.” She looked over at him. “Let’s not be mad at each other. Let’s have our party. You don’t have to talk about the bad day because we’re going to have a good one. You and me.”
“Do you promise?”
She patted the bed again. “Come on over here for our party. We’ll play a game!”
“A game?”
“Let’s see, what kind of a game should we play?”
The boy was back as he hurried over with the cookies and soda. She wondered what sick war raged into his head to cause him to flip back and forth.
But she thought—hoped—she could handle the boy. She nibbled on the cookie, though her skin crawled when he snuggled up beside her.
“We could play See It. Remember when we drove and drove and we’d play See It? I see a red car! I see a flagpole!”
“That’s a good game.” She took another bite of the cookie. “We could use things in this room, and … Oh, I’ve got a game! A memory game.”
Like a child, he ate the cookie greedily. “A memory game.”
“This’ll be fun. A test of my powers.” She wiggled her eyebrows, laughed. “I have to close my eyes, and you take everything out of your pockets and put it all on the table there, by the chair. Then I get to look for three seconds—you count it off. Then I close my eyes again, and have to say everything you set out.”
“What’s the prize! What’s the prize!”
“Well … Okay, if I don’t remember every single thing, you … get another cookie!” Holding back disgust, she tickled a finger at his ribs.
“What if you do?”
“Then I get another cookie, of course.”
“I want the cookie!”
“Then you have to play the game.”
“I’m gonna win! Close your eyes. No cheating!”
“No cheating,” she promised, and saying a quick prayer, closed her eyes.
* * *
In the van, well out of camera range, Eve studied the screen while McNab ran the heat source search.
“Two, basement. Almost dead center. Run the whole place,” she told McNab, “but that’s going to be Dawber and Covino. If he’d grabbed another, she’d be down there somewhere. Roarke?”
“Finishing the analysis on the security system, but yes, we can take it down.”