“Angie? Will you let me get a cold cloth for your hand?” Kate asked.
“Don't you like to see my blood? I do.”
“I'd rather not see it dripping on my carpet,” Kate said with a hint of her usual wry tone, more to spark some fire in Angie than out of any real concern for the rug.
Angie stared at her palm for a moment, then raised it to her face and wiped the blood down her cheek in a loving caress.
Kate eased away from the desk and backed toward the door.
The girl looked up at her. “Are you going to leave me?”
“No, honey, I'm not going to leave you. I'm just going to get that wet cloth.” And call 911, Kate thought, moving another step toward the door, afraid now to leave the girl for fear of what she might do to herself.
The doorbell rang as she stepped into the hall, and she froze for a second. A face appeared at one of the sidelights, a round head above a puffed-up down jacket, trying to peer in through the sheer curtain. Rob.
“Kate, I know you're home,” he said, petulant, knocking, his face still pressed to the window. “I can see you standing there.”
“What are you doing here?” Kate asked in a harsh whisper, pulling the door open.
“I heard from the office you weren't going in. We need to talk about this—”
“You can't pick up a telephone?” she started, then caught herself and waved off the argument. “This isn't the time—”
Rob looked stubborn. He moved a little closer. “Kate, we need to talk.”
Kate clamped her teeth against a sigh of exasperation. “Could you lower your voice?”
“Why? Is it a neighborhood secret you're trying to avoid me?”
“Don't be an ass. I'm not avoiding you. I've got a situation here. Angie's shown up and she's in a very fragile mental state.”
His little pig eyes rounded. “She's here? What is she doing here? Have you called the police?”
“Not yet. I don't want to make things worse. She's got a knife and she's willing to use it—on herself.”
“My God. And you haven't taken it away from her, Ms. Superwoman?” he said sarcastically as he pushed past her into the hall.
“I'd rather keep all my appendages attached, thanks.”
“Has she hurt herself?”
“So far, it's just surface cuts, but one will need stitches.”
“Where is she?”
Kate motioned to the den. “Maybe you can distract her while I call 911.”
“Has she told you where she's been? Who took her?”
“Not exactly.”
“If she goes to a hospital, she'll clam up out of resentment. It could be hours or days before we get the information out of her,” he said in an urgent tone. “The police have made an arrest. The press conference is starting soon. If we can get her to tell us what happened, we can call Sabin before it's over.”
Kate crossed her arms and considered. She could see Angie still sitting on the couch, drawing patterns with her fingertip on the palm of her bloody hand. If paramedics came and hauled her away, she would react badly, that was a sure bet. On the other hand, what would they be doing to her? Trying to drag what they wanted out of her while she sat bleeding and vulnerable.
Trying to catch a killer.
She heaved a sigh. “All right. We try, but if she gets serious with that knife, I'm calling.”
Rob squinted at her. The toothache smile. “I know it pains you, Kate, but sometimes I am right. You'll see this is one of those times. I know exactly what I'm doing.”
“WHAT'S HE DOING here?” Angie blurted out the words as if they gave her a bad taste in her mouth.
Rob gave her the toothache smile too. “I'm just here to help, Angie,” he said, sitting back against the desk.
She gave him a long, hard stare. “I doubt it.”
“It looks like you've had a little trouble since we saw you last. Can you tell us about that?”
“You want to hear about it?” she asked, eyes narrowed, her hoarse voice sounding almost seductive. She raised her hand and slowly licked the blood from her palm again, her gaze locked on his. “You want to know who did this to me? Or do you just want to hear about the sex?”
“Whatever you want to tell us about, Angie,” he said evenly. “It's important for you to talk about it. We're here to listen.”
“I'm sure you are. You like to hear about other people's pain and suffering. You're a sick little fuck, aren't you?”
A muscle ticked in Rob's cheek. He held on to his excuse for a smile, but it looked more like he was biting a bullet.
“You're trying my patience, Angie,” he said tightly. “I'm sure that's not what you really want to do. Is it?”
The girl looked away toward the fire for so long that Kate thought she would never speak again. Maybe she'd gone to the Zone she'd talked about. She held the utility knife in her right hand, pressing the fingertips against the blade.
“Angie,” Kate said, moving behind the couch, casually picking up the chenille throw from the back of it as she went. “We're trying to help you.”
She sat on the arm of the unoccupied end, holding the blanket loosely in her lap.
Tears gleamed in Angie's eyes and she shook her head. “No, you're not. I wanted you to, but you're not. You just want what I can tell you.” Her swollen mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “The funny thing is, you think you're getting what you want, but you are so wrong.”
“Tell us what happened that night at the Phoenix,” Rob prompted, trying to draw her attention back to him. “Kate dropped you off. You went upstairs to take a shower . . . Did someone interrupt you?”
Angie stared at him, slowly scratching the tip of the blade along her thigh over and over.
“Who came to take you, Angie?” Rob pressed.
“No,” she said.
“Who came to take you?” he asked again, enunciating with emphasis.
“No,” she said, glaring at him. “I won't do it.”
The blade of the knife bit deeper. Sweat glistened on her pale face in the firelight. The denim shredded. Blood bloomed bright red in the tears.
Kate felt ill at the sight. “Rob, stop it.”
“She needs to do this, Kate,” he said. “Angie, who came to take you?”
“No.” Tears streaked down Angie's battered face. “You can't make me.”
“Let her alone.” Kate moved off her perch. Christ, she had to do something before the girl cut herself to ribbons.
Rob's stare was locked on Angie. “Tell us, Angie. No more games.”
Angie glared at him, shaking visibly now.
“Where did he take you? What did he do to you?”
“Fuck you!” she spat out. “I'm not playing your game.”
“Yes, you are, Angie,” he said, his voice growing darker. “You will. You don't have a choice.”
“Fuck you! I hate you!”
Shrieking, she came up off the couch, arm raised, knife blade flashing.
Kate moved fast, flinging the chenille throw to cover the knife and diving into Angie from the side almost simultaneously. The girl howled as they crashed to the floor, knocking into the coffee table and scattering the victimology reports.
Kate held her down as she struggled, the first wave of relief washing through her. Rob picked up the knife, closed the blade, and put it in his pocket.
Angie was sobbing. Kate moved onto her knees and pulled the girl into her arms to hold her.
“It's all right, Angie,” she whispered. “You're safe now.”
Angie pushed free, staring at her, incredulous and furious. “You stupid bitch,” she rasped. “Now you're dead.”
34
CHAPTER
“THE SHARKS SMELL blood in the water,” Quinn commented as they watched the mob gather for the press conference.