If Dee was telling the truth, Wade's surveillance wasn't as keen as he claimed, Nick thought. He'd seen Dee coming out of the room next to Lindstrom's.
"So you were going to the Lakeview to see Maggie?" Ted asked, a trace of doubt in his voice.
"Yeah. I put her up there a few days. Cost a pretty penny, although it's the cheapest place in town. But I had to keep her safe till I could get something worked out for her. I wasn't having much luck. Thursday night she said she was going back to the creep. I talked her into giving me just a couple more days, but I was so upset I thought I'd die. I've always loved that girl and I couldn't bear thinking of her being a prostitute, maybe getting AIDS. I guess I was crying when I ran back to my car."
"Where have you been for the last twenty-four hours?" Nick asked.
Mrs. Fisher leaned forward. "That's what I'd like to know, me here dyin' all alone and you traipsin' around playin' savior to some kid you barely know and what never done a thing for you, not like me, your own mother-"
Dee said in a low, distinct voice, "Ma, shut up."
Mrs. Fisher recoiled, spluttering. "Well, well I never…"
Dee looked at Ted. "I was trying to work out things with Maggie's mother. She lives in Brantford, Canada. I went there to see her. It's not that far, but far enough so I had to spend the night. Anyway, the husband finally caved in and Maggie's mother came for her today. They're on the way back to Brantford now."
"You realize we'll have to check this out," Nick said.
"Yeah. I'll give you the name and phone number. Could you wait until Maggie's mom has time to get home, though? If her husband gets a call from the police, it could set him off again, make him change his mind about letting Maggie stay. They should be home in three or four hours."
Normally Nick would have been unwilling to wait so long to verify a story, but he thought Dee was a woman of limited imagination and her story was too full of details for her to have invented it on the spur of the moment.
"I think you've answered all my questions for now," Nick said, standing. "I would like to talk with you again, though. Maybe tomorrow."
"Talk to her about what?" Mrs. Fisher asked querulously.
Nick's eyes met Hysell's and the answer hung in the air. Maybe Dee hadn't murdered Jeff Lindstrom, but they still had four other victims on their hands, all children of people who had been instrumental in the destruction of a man Dee Fisher loved beyond reason.
19
"It's your bedtime."
"I don't have a bedtime," Paige answered.
Mrs. Collins put her hands on her hips and glared. "You do now, young lady. After all the trouble you've caused me, you should be glad I don't put you to bed at six. And don't think I don't know your father is only keeping me until he can find someone else!" She drew a deep breath. "Well, I've told my friends I'm quitting this job because I won't waste my time taking care of a disobedient little girl. You might have gotten away with your shenanigans before, but not now. This isn't New York City, you know!"
Paige groaned. Mrs. Collins had been going on and on like this ever since what Paige now called "The Famous Saunders House Incident." It wasn't bad enough that the killer had seen her and that she'd been forbidden to even talk to Jimmy for a whole month. She also had to listen to Mrs. Collins carrying on all day long! She was almost glad to go 10 bed.
"Come on, Ripley," she said resignedly. "We'll go read in bed."
"You'll do no such thing! You will turn off the light and go to sleep immediately. Your father has spoiled you rotten, letting you get by with too much for too long," Mrs. Collins harped, full of noble indignation. "I taught my daughter to behave. She would never have sneaked out in the middle of the night with a boy. Of course, she had a loving mother to watch over her!"
The last statement was issued with an edge of reproach.
When Paige turned a stricken look on her, Mrs. Collins realized her blunder. "Not that it's your fault you don't have a mother. It's a tragedy. I could cry when I think of what happened to your mother. Shot by those hoodlums! No doubt she sits up in Heaven every day and weeps her eyes out over the little girl she had to leave all alone and will never see again until you die!"
Paige's face crumpled. Everyone else said her mother was in a beautiful place playing a harp (which she hadn't known how to do in life) and singing and watching lions play with lambs in her spare time. Now Mrs. Collins claimed Mommy was unhappy and cried all day and would continue to cry until Paige came to be with her. It was awful. She suddenly felt guilty for being alive. Maybe she should die as soon as possible so Mommy could stop crying, but then Daddy would be sad and she would miss him and Ripley and Jimmy so much…
Overcome, Paige broke into noisy sobs. Mrs. Collins went ramrod-straight, alarm flickering in her eyes. "Now you stop that! What if your father comes home?" She was appalled at the desolation she'd wrought, frustration turning up the volume of her voice. "What's wrong? You don't want to go to bed? All right, you can stay up until midnight, just stop that bawling. Lord have mercy, you are the most difficult child I have ever known!"
Mrs. Collins marched back to the kitchen, muttering to herself. Paige emitted a few more ragged sobs, then lapsed into hiccups and sniffles. She turned on the television and sat down on the floor two feet away from the screen. Mrs. Collins had warned that if she sat so close, television radiation would blind her, but at the moment she didn't care. She was miserable. Ripley, usually not one for cuddling, butted her with his head a couple of times before curling up in her lap and purring with abandon when she stroked his back.
Paige was just regaining control when the doorbell rang. Maybe that was Natalie, she thought hopefully. Maybe Natalie knew she was grounded and her world was ending and she'd come again with her guitar for a lesson. That would be great!
She gently scooted Ripley off her lap and ran to the door. She swung it open. A figure smiled. "Hello, Paige."
It was dark. It had begun to drizzle. The person had pulled up the hood of a poncho.
"Hi," Paige managed to say, recognition flashing in her eyes. Shock and fear coursed through her, but she smiled and tried to look innocent. "I'll go get my daddy," she improvised. "He's in the kitchen. With his gun."
"Oh, I don't think so." A sigh. "What a shame you had to recognize me."
Jimmy Jenkins sat behind the oak tree on the Meredith lawn. He'd dodged through backyards and over fences to reach the house and avoid the cops that had been posted outside his house and Paige's after Natalie St. John told the sheriff she thought the killer had seen Paige at the Saunders house. He was taking a chance, but he hadn't seen Paige since Thursday night. He wasn't supposed to see her for a month, which was crummy. Not because she was his girlfriend or he missed her or anything. Just because they'd never gotten a chance to discuss their daring adventure.
His parents were still furious. He wasn't allowed to leave the Jenkins property, but his parents were focused on his little sister Ivy and his little brothers Jason and Joel, who'd caught her cold, so he'd taken advantage of the situation to visit Paige. He had it all planned. As soon as he saw her bedroom light come on, he'd throw little pebbles against the window like always. She'd shimmy down the tree and they'd get to have a good, long talk about Alison Cosgrove and how they'd been responsible for saving her life from the mad killer, even if nobody would give them any credit.
He'd gone out of his house the back way and traveled a circuitous route to the Meredith home, dodging the watchdog cop out front. To occupy his time until he saw her bedroom light, he'd brought a book, Treasure Island, which Paige said he'd like, even though he'd never admit to her he was reading it. He'd reached page ten when a cool drizzle started. He hunched up against the tree trunk, protected by the thick limbs.