She headed for the door. “Let’s go. I’ll have to call Catherine soon and tell her that we’ve left the hotel. I suppose you do know where we’re going?”
“Yes.” He opened the door for her. “We’re going back to my childhood, Eve.”
“SON OF A BITCH.” QUEEN’S hand tightened on the phone. “Did you have to cause such a stir, Black? Taking that kid was a bad move. People get upset about children. Do what you like on your own, but this is my job you’re doing.”
“Then find a way to take the heat off me,” Black said mockingly. “Why are you so upset? You’ve done it before. Plant some evidence, find a convenient witness to give a false description. Judy Clark will probably die anyway, and that will make it safer. I decided I needed the little girl.”
“Don’t kill her. There’s too much publicity already.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. You want your ledger. I’m going to get it for you.” He added softly, “Cover me just like you’ve always done, and everything will be fine.” He hung up.
Queen cursed beneath his breath. Cover the homicidal son of a bitch? How was he supposed to do that when Black was becoming more reckless all the time? He’d planned for this to be Black’s final job for him, but the bastard was going to ruin him if he couldn’t find a way to control him.
And if he killed the kid, Queen hoped to hell he hid her body so that no one would ever find it.
WHINING ASSHOLE.
Black pocketed his phone and turned to the little girl sitting on the chair across the room. She had tousled sandy blond hair and was wearing a pink Cinderella nightshirt. Her feet were bare and dangling a few inches from the floor. She was one of the quiet ones. Her big brown eyes wide and frightened as a doe before the final shot of the hunter.
They were all different. That was what made the child-kills such an exquisite pleasure.
“Did you hear me tell him that your mother was going to die? She wasn’t quite dead when I took you from the house.” He smiled. “But you saw what I did to her, didn’t you?”
She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.
“You mustn’t cry. I don’t like it. If you cry, I’ll do the same thing to you that I did to your mother and grandmother.”
“I won’t cry.” Her voice was almost a sob as she frantically tried to stop. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“You have eyes like a deer, like Bambi. Did your mother ever let you see the DVD about Bambi, Cara?”
“Yes.”
“And do you remember how the hunter killed Bambi’s mother?”
The tears were beginning to roll down the child’s cheeks. “It was sad.”
“But that’s what hunters do, they hunt the pretty deer. I’ve decided that’s what I’m going to do with you. I’m going to turn you loose in the forest, and we’ll play hunter and deer.” He got up and strolled across the space separating them. “I’m a very good hunter, Cara.” He reached out and touched her tear-wet cheek. “You’re going to have to be very clever, very fast to get away from me. I’m afraid that you won’t be able to do it. I’ll catch you and kill you and skin you.”
“Please. I’ll be good.” She was sobbing. “Don’t hurt me.”
“But you’re not a good girl. I told you not to cry.”
“I’ll stop. I’ll stop.”
“Too late.” His hand dropped away. “But we won’t play that game for a while. We’re going on a little car trip.” He took her arm and led her toward the door. “And then I may need you to talk to someone on the phone. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”
“I’ll do anything you say. I promise. I’ll be so good.”
Those pretty doe’s eyes swimming in tears, gazing frantically up at him. It had been a brilliant idea to go for the hunt. He could hardly wait.
He smiled down at her. “Yes, in the end you’ll be very good for me.”
EVE GAZED IN BEWILDERMENT AT the huge bus terminal in the middle of the city.
“This is returning to your childhood?”
“In a manner of speaking.” John took her arm and nudged her through the crowd to the front entrance. “When I was a kid, this was where the housing project that I grew up in was located. Several years after I left, they tore it down and sold the property to a developer. They made it into a bus depot.” He shrugged. “I was just as happy. I hated the place.”
“The Bricks,” she murmured. “You said everyone called it the Bricks.”
His brows rose. “You remember that? I’m surprised.”
“So am I.” The memory had come out of nowhere. “I guess I remember more than I thought about that time.” Then she recalled something else. “I had to gather all my memories of you together once when Bonnie was a baby. I suppose they kind of stuck.”
“Really? And why did you do that?”
“Your uncle had just told me that you were dead. I thought I should tell Bonnie a little about her father.” She grimaced. “It was a crazy idea. She was only eight months old. She couldn’t have understood any of it. But I remember her looking at me as if she did.”
“Maybe she did,” John said quietly. “You told me the nurse said she was magic. Maybe that was how she was able to come to me in that prison. You gave her the key.”
Eve was once more aware of the wave of intimacy that seemed to be a recurring theme. She looked away from him. “I don’t know. All I wanted to do was not let her go through life without knowing something about the man who gave her life. All the rest is a mystery. I’m still having trouble with understanding what you told me.” She changed the subject. “Why are we here? I’m sure it’s not some sentimental journey to the past.”
“No.” He nodded at the wall of lockers across the terminal station. “When I was looking for a place to hide Queen’s ledger, I thought of this spot. I have only ugly memories of this site, and I thought I’d add another bit of ugliness to the place. Why dirty up any other area?” He held out his hand. “The key I gave you?”
She reached in her bag and located it. “The ledger is here?”
He took the key and his pace quickened. “Yes. Locker 57. Come on, let’s retrieve it and get the hell out of here.”
She watched him unlock the locker. “It still bothers you? Even though the place was torn down years ago?”
“There’s nothing more vivid than childhood memories.” He pulled out a leather briefcase, checked inside, and slammed the door of the locker. “Yeah, it bothers me.”
That had been a stupid question. A father who had put his cigarettes out on his son’s back? That was not a memory that would vanish with time. “But you had your uncle Ted.”
He nodded. “And that saved me.” He took her elbow. “Let’s go. I’ve got what I came for. This place suffocates me.”
She didn’t speak until they were in the car and driving away from the bus station. “Then why didn’t you find another place for the ledger? It hurts you. It’s not worth it.”
He shrugged. “Maybe it’s a form of self-flagellation. It could be I feel the need to punish myself for all my sins.” He paused. “Or perhaps just for one particular sin.”
“What sin?”
“I’m not going to use you as a confessor, Eve.” He nodded at the briefcase he’d put on the floor of the passenger seat. “Take a look at the ledger. I want you to be able to identify it if it becomes necessary.”
She undid the briefcase and pulled out a thin, cloth-wrapped brown leather volume. The pages were stiff, brittle, the entries clear, but in a script that must have been Korean. “I wouldn’t be able to identify any of these entries.”
“There’s a mark in green ink at the bottom of the sixth page. The color is very close to the blue of the other entries. You probably wouldn’t know it was there if you weren’t aware of the difference.”