The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(48)

“Cassie.”

“Very nice. I like Cassie. Now, in a minute you’re going to introduce me to her as a guest and tell her that she should make me feel welcome. Got it?”

Victoria nodded.

“When’s your husband due home?”

Victoria’s gaze went wild: up, down, left, right. Orlando had told him to always read the eyes because they held the key to what the person was thinking.

“No, no, no, Victoria. A lie will only piss me off.” He clenched his jaw. “And I’m getting kind of angry even entertaining the thought that you’d think of lying to me.” He left his fury exposed, using it to show her that he could turn on her at any second. It was just like training a dog. Do as I say and I’ll give you a treat. But do something bad, pee in the house, and you’ll be very, very sorry.

He pointed his finger at her, put it right in her face, inches away from her eyes. “Tell me truthfully. When’s your husband due home?”

“In—in—what time is it?” She blurted it and Cassie turned, perhaps thinking that her mother was asking her the question.

“Now, Victoria,” he said under his breath. “I’m a guest. Tell her.”

Victoria tried to make her face smile. “Cassie, honey, we have a guest. He’s come by for … for dinner. Let’s make him feel at home, okay?”

Cassie slid off the couch and walked into the kitchen. She leaned against her mother’s right leg and wrapped her arm around her thigh, sizing up Marcks. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Lee. Nice to meet you.”

Her gaze drifted around his body and face. He had not showered and his clothing did not fit well, so he probably looked a bit ragged.

He did as Orlando suggested: forge ahead, not allow them any time to think.

“So how old are you, Cassie?” He let his voice rise and fall like he did with Jasmine when she was young. Regardless of what she said about him, he treated her well.

She held up five fingers.

“Five’s a good age.” He wanted to get rid of her, to send her back to the television without doing it too obviously. “What’s that show you’re watching? I’m not familiar with it.”

“Wild Kratts.”

She was not saying much, which went along with her body language—fear, perhaps shyness around strangers. But he also had to be prepared to handle an unpredictable outburst, the wildcard in a situation like this.

He knew what Victoria was thinking: could he kill a child?

“I think Cassie should go back and enjoy the rest of her program, don’t you, mom?”

“Yes, honey, go back to the couch and watch your show.” She pushed her gently away from her leg and, using both hands on her daughter’s back, guided her toward the family room.

As Cassie walked away—glancing over her shoulder at Marcks—he grinned at her and then said to Victoria, between his teeth, “When’s your husband coming home?”

“Four-thirty. Any—any minute.”

Marcks felt his shoulder muscles tighten. His mind went blank. He squinted, trying to recover, hide his sudden weakness. “Is there a gun in the house?”

“We don’t believe in guns.”

He turned and surveyed the kitchen. A Henkel knife block sat on the dark gray, black and white granite counter beneath the window. He stepped over and pulled out a couple, chose a serrated blade of medium length. “Very good. Recently sharpened.”

“What are you—what are you going to do with it?”

“I’m not going to kill you with it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Or anyone else. If you cooperate.”

“Then why do you need it?”

“Victoria. Really? It’s in case you don’t cooperate.” And for control. But he did not tell her that. He slipped it into his back jeans pocket.

A low rumble vibrated by the far wall.

“Daddy’s home!” Cassie said as she slid off the couch.

Marcks rushed across the room and took Cassie by the hand. “Shh. Hang on there, darlin’. Let’s surprise him.” He put his large hand across her belly and lifted her up in one motion toward his body. “I’ve got a present for him and I don’t want to ruin the surprise. Okay?”

“What’s the surprise?”

“Oh, it’s a really good one. Wait till you see his face.” Without taking his eyes off the family room door that led to the garage, he said, “Victoria. What’s his name?”

Victoria put a hand over her mouth and mumbled, “Nathan.” It came out as a muffled whimper, but Marcks understood what she said.

Marcks moved into the blindside of the door as it opened and Nathan walked in. Physically fit—but no threat to Marcks, who had about four inches and fifty to seventy-five pounds of muscle on him.

Nathan saw his wife’s terrified face and stepped farther into the house as he swung his head left, toward Marcks. But it was clear his brain did not register the man’s presence. His gaze was fixed on to Cassie.

“Who are you?” Nathan said, recovering.

Marcks kicked the door shut. He was not going to give Nathan a chance to escape back into the garage. Then again, he was reasonably certain that a husband and father would not leave his wife and daughter with an intruder.