Innocent in Death (In Death #24)(97)

“Eve, it’s nearly eleven at night.”

“So? Shit,” she muttered when he only sent her a mild stare. “Okay, I’ll save that for the morning. Better, probably. It’ll give me time to write this all up, set it up, lay it out. I’m going to need a lot of muscle—mine, hers, Whitney’s—to pull the kid in for a formal interview.”

She went back to her desk, sat, and prepared to get started. “So…I figure I should ask so it’s not hanging anywhere. Did Magdelana contact you after she tried your ’link before?”

“No.”

“Have you thought about how you’re going to handle it—her—whatever, when she does?”

“If and when, I’ll take care of it. She won’t cause us more trouble, Eve. My word on that.”

“Good. Well, this is going to take me a few hours.”

“I’ve some work I can catch up on.”

“Are we still on for that date tomorrow? Schmaltzy hearts and flowers followed by crazed sex?”

“I believe I have it as ‘inventive sex’ on my schedule. I’ll just amend that to ‘crazed.’”

“Why can’t it be both?”

He beamed those blue eyes at her. “There’s my Valentine.”

She expected the nightmare, and still wasn’t prepared for it. She wasn’t prepared to see herself as she’d once been—small and thin—standing in Rayleen’s pink-and-white room.

She didn’t like the dolls, she didn’t like the way they stared and stared like dead people, but still seemed to watch her. But it was so warm, and the air smelled so nice.

The bed looked like something out of the fairy tale she’d once watched on screen when no one was around to stop her. A princess bed. Nothing bad would ever happen in a bed like that.

No one would come in, in the dark, lie on top of her, hurt her, hurt her. Not in that beautiful, beautiful bed.

She walked to it, but was afraid to touch. She reached out, then jerked her hand back. He’d probably beat her if she touched it. Probably pound his fists on her if she touched something so beautiful.

“Go ahead. You can touch it. You can even lie down on it.”

She whirled around. It wasn’t him. It was a little girl, like her. But not like her. Her hair was shiny, her face was pretty and soft-looking. There were no bruises on it. She smiled.

“This is my room.”

“You’re the princess,” Eve murmured.

The little girl’s smile widened. “That’s right. I’m the princess. Everything here is mine. If I say you can touch something, you can. If I don’t, and you do, I can have you thrown in the dungeon. Where it’s dark all the time.”

Eve whipped her hands behind her back. “I didn’t touch anything.”

“You have to ask first, then I’ll give my permission. Or I won’t.” The pretty little girl walked over to a table where a pink and white tea set was laid out. “I think we should have some hot chocolate. I have my servants make it whenever I want it. Do you like hot chocolate?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had any. Is it good?”

Rayleen poured it from pot to cup. “It’s a killer.” Then she laughed, and laughed. “You have to drink it if I say you do. You’re in my room, and I’m the princess. I say it’s time for you to drink your hot chocolate.”

Obediently—she’d learned to be obedient—Eve stepped over and picked up one of the pink cups. She sipped. “It’s…it’s so good. I never had anything like it.” She drank it fast, greedily, then held out the cup. “Could I have more?”

“All right.” Rayleen’s smile was sharp now, like her eyes. In the look Eve saw something that made her stomach fist. And when Rayleen poured from pot to cup, what streamed out was red, red blood.

Biting back a scream, Eve dropped the cup. The red spread and pooled on the white carpet.

“Now look what you’ve done! You’ll have to pay for that.” Setting down the pot, Rayleen clapped her hands twice.

And he came in, smiling that sharp smile, looking with those sharp eyes.

“No. Please. I didn’t mean it. I’ll clean it up. Please, don’t. Please.”

“I’ve been looking for you, little girl,” her father said.

He struck her first, one quick, hard blow that sent her sprawling to the floor. Then he fell on her.

She fought, she begged, she screamed when the bone in her arm snapped like a pencil. While Rayleen stood, idly sipping from her cup.

“Only one way to stop it,” Rayleen said as he began to push and shove himself inside Eve, to tear her. “Killing takes care of everything. So kill him. Kill him. Kill him.”

Rayleen chanted it, her voice rising with excitement.

“Kill him!”

Finding the knife in her hand, Eve did.

Ssh, ssh. Stop now, Eve. Just a dream. Nothing but a dream. You need to wake up for me. Come back to me now. I have you.”

“It was blood. Pink and white and red. All the blood.”

“It’s done now. You’re awake now, with me now.” They tore at him, these nightmares, even as they tore at her. He held her, and rocked her, pressing his lips to her hair, her temples, even when she’d stopped shaking.