Survivor In Death (In Death #20)(16)

Protective gear, Eve surmised. Night goggles. “Did you hear him say anything?”

“No. He killed her, with the knife. He killed her, and there was blood. And he didn't say anything.”

“Where were you?”

“On the floor, at the door. I wanted to look inside and see . . .”

“It was dark. How could you see?”

Her eyebrows came together a moment. “From the window. The streetlight through the window. He had a light.”

“Like a flashlight?”

“No, a little dot, a little green light. It was blinking. On his hand. On his . . . here.” She closed her fingers around her wrist.

“Okay, what happened then?”

“I got against the wall. I think. I was so scared. He killed Inga, and he had a knife, and I was so scared.”

“You don't have to be scared now,” Mira said. “You're safe now.”

“He didn't see me, like I wasn't there. Like hide-and-seek, but he didn't look for me. I got the 'link and I called. Dad says if you see somebody getting hurt, you call Emergency and the police will come and help. You gotta call, you gotta be a good neighbor. My dad--” She broke off, bowed her head as tears dripped.

“He would be very proud of you.” Mira reached for her own bag, took a tissue from it. “Very proud that you did just what he taught you, even when you were scared.”

“I wanted to tell him, to tell him and Mom. I wanted Mom. But they were dead.”

“You saw the man again, and someone else,” Eve prompted, “when you went upstairs. You went up the back way.”

“The man who killed Inga was going into Coyle's room.”

“How do you know? Nixie, how do you know it was the man from Inga's room who went into Coyle's?”

“Because . . .” She looked up again, blinking against the tears. “The light. The green light. The other didn't have one.”

“Okay. What else was different?”

“The one who killed Inga was bigger.”

“Taller?”

“A little bit, but bigger.” She flexed her arms, indicating muscle.

“Did they talk to each other?”

“They didn't say anything. They didn't make any noise. I couldn't hear anything. I wanted Mom.”

Her eyes went dull again, and a tremor shook her voice. “I knew what they were going to do and I wanted Mom and Dad, but... And there was blood, and it got on me. I hid in the bathroom, and I didn't come out. I heard people come in, but I didn't come out. You came.”

“Okay. Do you remember, before any of this happened, if your parents said anything about being concerned, about anybody who was mad at them, or if they'd seen somebody hanging around who shouldn't be?”

“Dad said Dave said he was going to beat him unconscious with his nine iron because he won the golf game.”

“Did they fight a lot, your dad and Dave?”

“Nuh-uh, not for real.” She knuckled her eyes. “Just ripping.”

“Was there anybody he did fight with? Not just ripping?”

“No. I don't know.”

“Or your mom?” When Nixie shook her head, Eve eased into a dicey area. “Did your mom and dad fight, with each other?”

“Sometimes, but not like bad. Gemmie's mom and dad used to yell at each other all the time, and Gemmie said they threw things. And they got divorced because her dad couldn't keep his pants zipped. That means he screwed around.”

“Got that. But your parents didn't fight like that.”

“They didn't, and they didn't screw around either. They danced on the beach.”

“Sorry?”

“In the summer, when we went to the beach and got the house. Sometimes they went out to walk at night, and I could see them from my window. They'd dance on the beach. They weren't going to get divorced.”

“It's good to have a memory like that,” Mira said. “When you start to feel too sad, or scared, you can try to see them dancing on the beach. You did very well. I'd like to come back and talk to you again some time.”

“I guess it's okay. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now.”

“I think you should have some lunch. I have to go soon, but Lieutenant Dallas will be here, working upstairs in her office. Do you know where the kitchen is?”

“No, the house is too big.”

“Tell me about it,” Eve muttered.

Mira rose, held out a hand. “I'll take you back, and maybe you can help Summerset for a little while. I'll be back in a minute,” she said to Eve.

Alone, Eve paced to the windows, to the fireplace, back to the windows. She wanted to get to it, start the process. She needed to set up her board, do the runs, write her report and file it. Calls to make, people to see, she thought, jingling loose credits in her pocket.

Shit, how was she going to deal with this kid?

She wondered if the cops who'd had to interview her all those years ago had been equally unsure of their footing.

“She's coping very well.” Mira came back into the room. “Better than most would. But you should expect mood swings, tears, anger, difficulty sleeping. She's going to require counseling.”