Taken in Death (In Death #37.5)(12)

“We . . . we’ve been playing. I built a fort.”

“Is that what you call it?” Lunging forward, she kicked at the blocks, sent them tumbling and flying. “It doesn’t look much like a fort to me. You don’t know how to build anything. You don’t know how to do anything. You’re stupid.”

Her eyes burned when she saw his gaze shift to the knife. She waved it again. “Would you like to get your hands on this, pojke? Would you like to hurt me with this?”

Yes, yes! he said in his head, and hearing him, Gala crawled over to him.

Don’t, Henry. Don’t, don’t, don’t.

He swallowed hard. “We’re not allowed to play with knives.”

“Is that right?” Deliberately, Maj flicked the knife against his arm, laughing, laughing when he jolted back in shock, when tears of fear and pain sprang into his eyes. “I am! I can play with knives all I want. You remember that, little boy. Remember that, little girl.”

And the most horrible thing happened. They watched her as she licked Henry’s blood off the knife, and smiled.

“Delicious! Now, I have things to do. I’m a very busy woman. Later I’ll bring you something to eat. Maybe more cakes and cookies. Or maybe worms and bugs. Whatever I bring, you’ll eat or I’ll slice off your piggy fingers and toes and fry them up in a pan.”

She went out, shut the door, turned the locks.

Henry looked down at the hand he’d pressed to his arm, and saw the blood. His stomach rolled; his head swam. His legs gave way so he sat hard on the floor.

“It’s all right, Henry.” Though the tears came now, Gala kissed his white cheek. “I’ll take care of you, just like Mommy and Daddy and Darcia take care of us when we get hurt. I know how.”

The little bathroom only had a sink and a toilet, but she ran water over the rough paper towel, scrubbed soap into it—because of germs. And she promised she would eat worms and bugs. She would do anything so the evil witch didn’t hurt Henry again.

CHAPTER FIVE

Eve had to block the e-speak out of her head. The EDD team huddled in its corner with the toys, tools, and other equipment she didn’t want or need to understand.

At one point, McNab went racing out of the house with one of the handhelds. She didn’t ask why, but continued to circle her board.

More than a murder board this time, she reminded herself. She couldn’t stand for the dead until she brought the living to safety.

“Money’s not her motive,” Baxter commented. “It’s a by-product. She scammed and killed the doctor not just for money, but to get out. She couldn’t get to the sister when she was locked up, so she needed a key, and that was this Edquist. The money she got from him. By-product.”

“Agreed. She needs funds to hide, to eat, to travel, to have the time to find the sister. But getting out was primary. Killing him,” Eve continued, “means he can’t talk, confess his duplicity, and give the name on her new ID. But I’d say that was another by-product. Killing him was purpose and reward in itself.”

“She doesn’t have a motive to kill the kids,” Trueheart began. “It doesn’t gain her anything. If the sister is her focus, the kids are a way to get to her. Dead, she’s alive and there’s nothing to use as bait.”

“Kill the kids, cut out the sister’s heart,” Peabody disagreed. “That’s as good as dead.”

“That’s a point, but as good as dead isn’t enough.” Eve stopped, studied Maj’s ID, rocked on her heels. “She can’t win, can’t have or be everything she wants as long as Tosha’s breathing. But those kids are a living, breathing piece of the sister. The one who crowded her in the womb, who shares her face, her body, who she likes to blame for the death of the mother, who sucked up too much of the father’s attention. There can only be one. Now there’s not just the sister, but . . . by-products.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Baxter agreed. “I don’t know if we’re going to logic this out, LT. She’s batshit crazy.”

“Even batshit has routines, patterns, goals. We have to figure hers out.”

She wanted the case files, police reports. Wanted data.

“She waited until the sister and husband were out of town,” Eve continued. “That says she didn’t go directly for the sister. She had the element of concealment, of surprise. But instead of going at the sister when she was, say, taking a walk, doing some shopping, heading to work, she waits, then takes the kids.”

“So she wanted the kids more than she wanted the sister dead?” Peabody suggested.

Too simple, Eve thought. And too rational. “No. She wants them all dead.”

“We got damn near a mile,” Feeney called out. “McNab’s out eleven blocks, and we’re getting a weak signal. That’s more than triple the standard range.”

“She could be farther out, but the probability is she’s within a mile.” Eve crossed to their workstation. “She needed the car. She couldn’t stroll along even a couple blocks with two drugged kids and their stuff. Too much to handle, too big a chance to be seen, remembered. What are a couple of kids doing walking around after midnight?

“And she brought the car back.” Eve paced away, paced back. “The time line presents she drove the kids to her secure location, locked them up, drove the car back to the garage, logging in roughly twenty-three minutes after she exited the house with the kids.”