“I need your help. Dom called again."
Silence. "And?"
"Welfare is keeping the kid at their holding facility. He wants her with me. He gave me twenty-four hours to get her."
"What happens if you don’t?"
"What do you think happens? She’s dead, dammit.”
“It would be difficult to get to her at—”
“He’ll do it. I can’t take a chance.”
“What does Joe say?"
"Nothing. I’m not telling him. Joe’s out of it." He gave a low whistle. "He’s not going to like that."
"He’s done enough for me. I won’t have him crucified for helping me."
“But since you’re calling me, I take it you’re willing to sacrifice my humble self?”
“You have less to lose and more to gain."
"What kind of help do you want from me?”
“I need to know where she is. Do you have any idea?”
“Maybe."
"What do you mean, maybe?"
"Look, the location of that facility is a bigger secret than Level 5 of the CDC.”
“But you know where it is?"
"Well, I followed Eisley once when she took a kid there during a big court case." Then Dom could have followed Eisley too.
"It’s a big old house on Delaney Street that used to be a convalescent home. The location could have changed though. That was over two years ago."
"We’ll try it. Eisley said there’s a guard."
"A security guard who patrols the ground. I suppose you want me to distract him."
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"Yes."
"And then? Once you’ve got her where are you going to take her?”
“I don’t know. I’ll find a place. Will you help me?”
“You’re putting my ass on the line."
"I’ll make it worth your while."
"Yes, you will." His tone hardened. "Because I’m going to be with you every step of the way."
"I can’t do—‘" She drew a deep breath. "Okay, we’ll work something out. Come and get me. I’ll meet you across the street at the park."
"Not before midnight."
"Mark, it’s only five-thirty now. I want to get her out of there.”
“Okay, eleven. But if you want to go any earlier, you’ll have to go by yourself. It’s bad enough we have to run the risk of the security guard. I want everyone in that house asleep before I go near it."
Five and a half hours. How could she wait that long? She was already a nervous wreck. Okay, chill out. Dom had given her twenty-four hours. "All right. I’ll eat dinner and then tell Charlie I’m going to bed. The kitchen door leads to a laundry room that opens to the hall. I can slip out and meet you at the park at eleven."
"Right."
She hung up. Done. Mark Grunard had been tougher than she had thought. Not that she could blame him. She was asking a great deal and not many people would give without wanting something in return.
Except Joe.
Don’t think about Joe. She couldn’t have him with her.
"Come on out," Charlie called from outside the bedroom door. "Food’s here." She braced herself. Just get through dinner and hope she could slip out before Joe came home.
EIGHT
"Would you like to talk?"
"No." Jane stared straight ahead. Let her just go away. The house mother looked like a plump The Killing Game – Eve Duncan 02
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gray bird perched on the sofa and her cooing voice was driving Jane crazy. Maybe she was trying to be nice, but Jane had had enough. "I want to go to bed, Mrs.—" What was her name?
"Mrs. Morse."
"You’ll sleep better if you talk about it."
Talk about blood. Talk about Fay. Why did grown-ups always think it was better to talk everything over? She didn’t want to think about Fay. She never wanted to think about Fay again. She just wanted to close the door to all the pain. No, there was one thing she had to know first. "Who killed her?"
"You’re safe here, dear," Mrs. Morse said gently.
That wasn’t what she had asked, and Mrs. Morse was lying. No one was safe anywhere. "Who killed Fay?"
"We’re not sure."
"The cops have to have some idea. Fay never hurt anyone. Was it one of the gangs? Was anything stolen?"
"It’s better if you don’t think about it right now. We’ll talk about it tomorrow." She reached out to stroke Jane’s hair. "But we really should discuss how you’re feeling."
She leaned away before the woman could touch her. "I don’t feel anything. I don’t care that Fay died. I wouldn’t care if you died either. Just leave me alone."
"I understand."
Jane gritted her teeth. What could she say to make the woman leave her alone? She didn’t understand. No one understood.
Except maybe Eve. She hadn’t tried to talk. She had sat silently with Jane, but Jane had somehow felt—
Stupid. They had been together only a matter of minutes. If Jane got to know her, she’d see that Eve was the same as all the others.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Mrs. Morse asked. Let me out of here.
She knew better than to say it. She had been in this place before. She was being protected until they could find another home for her.
But Mike wasn’t being protected. He was out there in the dark and he didn’t know that there would be no food and no one to keep an eye on him.
And she was going to be locked up and not be able to help him. Blood.
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Fay’s eyes staring up at her as she tried to stop the blood. Bad. So much badness out there.
Mike.
"You’re trembling," Mrs. Morse said. "My poor child, why won’t you—”
“I’m not trembling," Jane said fiercely. She stood up. "I’m cold. You keep it too cold in this son-of-a-bitchin‘ place."
"We don’t use language like that here, dear."
“Then throw me out, you old cow." She glared at her. "I hate it here. I hate you. I’m going to sneak into your room and cut your throat like that bastard cut Fay’s." The woman stood and backed away as Jane had known she would. These days the threat of violence was treated cautiously by welfare personnel even when uttered by a kid like Jane.
"That wasn’t necessary," Mrs. Morse said. "Go on to bed, dear. We’ll discuss your problem in the morning."
Jane ran out of the living room, up the stairs, past the policeman posted outside her room, and slammed the door behind her. They’d given the tiny room to her alone this time, although she’d probably have to share once they decided she’d gotten over the shock of Fay’s death. Most of the time each room was occupied by three, maybe four children.
And they’d never before posted a guard outside her door either. It must have something to do with what had happened to Fay.
She couldn’t breathe. She moved over to the window and looked down at the yard below.
Those rosebushes should be cut back. Fay had Jane prune her roses in September. She’d said that they’d come back fuller and more beautiful in the spring.
Jane hadn’t believed her, but she’d been willing to wait and see if— Fay.
Don’t think of her. She’s gone. There’s nothing Jane could do about her. Shut the door.
Think about Mike instead and the streets and the creeps who could hurt him. She could help Mike.
But not if she stayed here.
The two-story brick building on Delaney Street was set back and surrounded by patchy lawns and poorly kept gardens. It had been built in the twenties and looked every one of its years.
"May I ask what you’re going to do?" Mark asked politely as he parked the car on a side street.
"It’s almost midnight and I’m sure the place is locked up tight as a drum. Providing you can find her in the first place, I’d be interested to know how you’re going to get inside and then get the The Killing Game – Eve Duncan 02
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kid out without being shot by the security guard. He makes regular rounds."