The Killing Game (15 page)

Her throat tightened as fear raced through her. He would do it. Christ, he would find a way to kill Jane if she didn't get her out of the facility.

She only had twenty-four hours.

Joe. She had to call Joe.

She was halfway through his number when she hung up. What was she doing? Was she really going to ask him to compromise his job by kidnapping a child from under the nose of welfare?

But she
needed
him.

So what? Stop being a selfish bitch and do what has to be done yourself.

How? She didn't even know where Jane was.

You have contacts. There's always a way. I'd find a way.

She started punching a phone number.

Mark Grunard answered on the second ring. He wasn't pleased. “Nice of you to let me know about Fay Sugarton. I got to her house along with half the newsmen in the city.”

“I meant to call you. Things happened.”

“That wasn't our agreement.”

“It won't happen again.”

“You're damn right it won't. I'm bailing out. You and Joe should have—”

“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. I won't have Joe 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 4 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 grounds. I suppose you want me to distract him.”

“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 to slip out before Joe comes home.

C                  H                  A                  P                  T                  E                  R

EIGHT

“Would you like to talk?”

“No.” Jane stared straight ahead. Let her just go
away
. The house mother looked like a plump 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. Eve 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.

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 threats of violence were 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 the fall. 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 you can 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 doing 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 kid out without being shot by the security guard. He makes regular rounds.”

I'd be interested to know too, Eve thought. “Do you have any idea where they'd keep her?”

“Well, they kept the boy in that court case on the upper floor. A room on the south side. First window facing the back.”

“By himself?”

Mark nodded. “He was a special case.”

Would Jane also be a special case? She'd just have to cross her fingers and pray she'd get lucky.

“I'm going around back and see if there's any way I can get in from there.” She got out of the car. “You cover the other side, and if you run into the guard, distract him.”

“Piece of cake,” Mark said sarcastically. “Why don't you give me something hard to do? It's not—”

“Duck.” She dove back into the car and pulled Mark down on the seat. “Patrol car.”

The Atlanta PD car cruised slowly by the welfare house, shining its lights on the front of the building and grounds as it passed.

Eve held her breath, half expecting the car to stop. Had they been seen?

The police car drove on and turned the corner.

“I think it's safe now.” Mark raised his head. “I suppose we should have expected welfare to request additional security.”

“We've got to hope the guard is still the only one on the grounds.” Eve got out of the car. “And that the police car doesn't come back anytime soon. Hurry.” She was already skirting the walk and crossing the grass. Don't think. Just move fast and pray.

She arrived at the back of the building and looked up at the second floor. First window on the south side.

The room was dark and the window closed.

Great.

A rusty drainpipe clung to the side of the building, but it was at least a yard from the window.

What the hell was she going—

What was that?

She looked over her shoulder.

A sound?

Someone standing in the shadows?

No, there was nothing. It must have been her imagination.

She turned back to the house. First she had to find a way to get up to the second floor. Then she'd have to get inside the room without scaring Jane. The more she considered the situation, the more helpless she felt. She'd do better figuring out how to get into the ground floor and then—

The window was opening.

Eve tensed.

Jane stuck her head out and looked down at her. Could she tell who Eve was? Yes, the moonlight was bright enough for recognition. But that didn't guarantee anything. Everyone must seem like a threat to Jane right now.

She stared at Eve for a long while. Then she touched her forefinger to her lips as if to hush her.

The gesture was conspiratorial; the two of them against the world. Eve didn't know why she'd gotten lucky, but she'd take it. God, yes, she'd take it.

Jane tossed a knotted sheet out the window. It ended twelve feet above Eve's head. Jane started climbing down it like a monkey; how was she supposed to—

“Catch me,” Jane ordered.

“It's not that easy. If I miss, you'll break—”

“Don't miss.” She let go of the sheet and fell into Eve's arms. The child's weight knocked them both to the ground.

“Get
off
me,” Jane whispered.

Eve rolled to the left and managed to sit up. “Sorry. You nearly broke my ribs.”

Jane was on her feet and racing around the building.

“Shit.” Eve jumped up and ran after her.

“Lose something?” Mark was holding Jane in a hammerlock. She kicked backward and connected with his shin. “Ouch. Stop fighting me or I'll break your neck, you little demon.”

“Don't hurt her.” Eve knelt down in front of the child. “We're trying to help you, Jane. Don't be afraid.”

“I'm not afraid. And I don't need your help.”

“You needed me to catch you.”

“It was a long drop. I didn't want to break my legs.”

Eve made a face. “You'd rather break my ribs.”

Jane stared calmly into her eyes. “Why not? I don't care anything about you.”

“But you must not think I'm a danger to you, since you didn't scream when you saw me.”

“I needed someone. I knew the sheet wouldn't reach the ground.”

“But you do believe I'm no danger to you?”

“Maybe. I don't know.” She scowled. “Why are you here?”

Eve hesitated. She didn't want to scare the kid, but she sensed that Jane would see through a lie. “I was afraid for you.”

“Why?”

“I'll tell you later. We don't have time now.”

Jane looked over her shoulder. “This isn't the cop.”

“No, he's Mark Grunard, a reporter.”

“He wants to write stories about Fay.”

“Yes.”

“We should get out of here, Eve.” Mark's voice was impatient. “I didn't run into the guard, but he's bound to come around soon. And who knows when that patrol car will come back.”

She was as eager to leave as he was, but she wasn't about to drag Jane kicking and screaming. “Will you come with us, Jane?” Eve asked. “Believe me, we just want you to be safe.”

Jane didn't answer.

“You were leaving anyway. I promise we'll locate a place where they won't find you.”

“Let me go.”

Mark shook his head. “And have you run out on—”

“Let her go, Mark. It has to be her decision.”

Mark's hold loosened and Jane quickly slipped out of his grip.

Jane gazed at Eve for a few seconds and then said, “I'll go with you. Where's your car?”

THEY HAD DRIVEN
no more than four blocks when Jane said to Mark, “You're going the wrong way.”

“Wrong way?”

“I want to go to Luther Street.”

Fay's house. “You can't go back there,” Eve said gently. “Fay's not there anymore, Jane.”

“I know that. Do you think I'm stupid? She's dead. They'd take her to the morgue. I still have to go to Luther Street.”

“Did you leave something there?”

“Yes.”

“The police are at the house. They won't let you in and they'll take you back to welfare.”

“Just take me to Luther Street. Okay?”

“Jane, listen to me. The house is under—”

“I don't want to go to the house. Just let me off at the alley two blocks away.”

“The alley you ducked down this afternoon when you spotted our car?”

Jane nodded.

“Why?”

“I want to go.”

“You left something in the alley?” Mark asked from the driver's seat.

“Why do you want to know? So you can put it on TV?” Jane asked fiercely. “It's none of your business.”

“You are my business at the moment,” Mark said. “Eve promised me a story if I helped her spring you. Do you know what the penalty is for kidnapping minors? I'll get thrown in jail and my career will go down the drain. I'm risking a hell of a lot and I don't need your sass, little girl.”

Jane ignored him and turned to Eve. “Jail? Then why did you do it?”

“I was worried about you. I thought you might be in danger.”

“Like Fay?”

Christ, what could she say now? The truth. “Like Fay.”

“You know who did it?”

Eve nodded.

“Who?”

“I'm not sure of his real name. He calls himself Dom.”

“Why did he do it? Fay never hurt anyone.”

“He's not sane. He likes to hurt people. I know that's terrible, but there are people out there who don't care about anything but doing harm.”

“I know that. The creeps. There are lots of them around.”

Eve stiffened. “Are there?” She paused. “Have you seen any of them around lately?”

“Maybe.” Jane glanced at Mark. “I watch the news on TV. They always show the creeps.”

Mark shrugged. “It's my job.”

“Have you seen anyone who scared you lately?” Eve persisted.

“He didn't scare me. He was just like those others who hang around the school yard.”

“Did he follow you?”

“Sometimes.”

“For God's sake, why didn't you tell someone?”

Jane looked out the window. “I want to go to Luther Street. Now.”

“What did he look like?” Mark asked.

“Big. Quick. I didn't really see him. Just another creep. Take me to Luther Street or let me out of the car.”

Mark glanced at Eve with raised brows. “Well?”

“Take us to the alley but use the Market Street entrance. We can't chance anyone seeing us from the house.”

“You mean Quinn.” Mark took a left at the next corner.

“Yes.” Unless Joe had already gone back to the apartment and discovered she was gone.

“He's going to raise hell about this.”

“I know.” She leaned back in the seat. “I couldn't do anything else.”

“I'm not complaining. If you weren't trying to protect Quinn, you wouldn't have felt it necessary to have my help. He's not above jettisoning me if he thought it better for you.”

“Hurry,”
Jane said.

There was such tension in her voice that Eve glanced at her in surprise. Jane was sitting straight up in the seat, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “We'll be there soon, Jane.”

“Just what did you leave in that alley?” Mark asked softly.

Jane didn't answer, but Eve could see her fists tightening into her palms and felt a sudden chill. “Speed it up, Mark.”

“I'm doing the limit.”

“Then go over it.”

“Considering what we've just done, it's not smart to risk—”

“Do it.”

He shrugged and pressed the accelerator.

“Thanks.” Jane didn't look at Eve as she spoke the word grudgingly.

“What's in that alley, Jane?”