• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“Eve, a great many young girls keep diaries, and consider them sacred and private,” Mira began.

“She’s not a young girl in anything other than years. I’ve looked at her. I know what she is. You don’t want to look,” she said, whipping back to Whitney. “People don’t want to look at a child, at the innocence of the face and form, and see evil. But that’s what’s in her.”

“Your opinion, however passionate, isn’t evidence.”

“If she were ten years older, five years older, you wouldn’t question my opinion. If you can’t trust my instincts and intellect and my skill, let me factor in more data. I killed at eight.”

“We’re aware of that, Eve,” Mira said gently.

“And you think I look at her and see myself? That this is some sort of transference?”

“I know when we spoke at the early stages of this investigation you were troubled. You were upset and very stressed over a personal matter.”

“Which has nothing to do with this. It may have distracted me, and that’s on me. But it doesn’t apply to my conclusions in this case. You’re not letting me do the job because of this bull.”

“Careful, Lieutenant,” Whitney warned.

She was done being careful. “That’s what she’s counting on. That we’ll all be so fucking careful. That we won’t look at her because she’s a nice little girl from a nice family. She killed two people inside of a week. And she’s got me beat, because she killed at seven. Not her father, but her two-year-old brother.”

Whitney’s eyes narrowed. “You included the information on Trevor Straffo in your earlier reports, and the investigator’s report, the ME’s report, which both concluded accidental death.”

“They were both wrong. I’ve spoken with Allika Straffo.”

While Eve fought to make her case and Peabody sat in the Met’s security office scanning the screens for Rayleen, Allika sent Cora away again.

“It’s your half-day off.”

“But you don’t look well, missus. I’m happy to stay. I’ll make you some tea.”

“No. No. It’s just a headache. Rayleen and I will be fine. We’ll be fine. We’ll…we’ll just have some lunch here, then go ahead to the salon.”

“I’ll put lunch together for you then, and—”

“We’ll manage, Cora. Go meet your friends.”

“If you’re sure then. You can ring me back anytime. I’m not doing anything special.”

“Enjoy yourself. Don’t worry about us.” Allika nearly cracked before she could get Cora out the door. Then she leaned back against it. “Rayleen,” she murmured. “Rayleen.”

“What’s the matter, Mommy?” Rayleen’s eyes were sharp as lasers. “Why can’t we go to lunch at Zoology? I love seeing the animals.”

“We can’t. We have to leave. We’re going to take a trip. A trip.”

“Really.” Now Rayleen brightened. “Where? Where are we going? Will there be a pool?”

“I don’t know. I can’t think.” How could she think? “We have to go.”

“You’re not even dressed.”

“I’m not dressed?” Allika looked down, studying her robe as if she’d never seen it before.

“Are you sick again? I hate when you’re sick. When’s Daddy coming home?” she asked, already losing interest in her mother. “When are we leaving?”

“He’s not coming. Just you and me. It’s best. That’s best. We have to pack. They didn’t find it, but they’ll come back again.”

“Find what?” Now Rayleen’s attention swung back and zeroed in. “Who’ll come back?”

“They looked.” Allika’s gaze shifted up. “But they didn’t find it. What should I do? What’s best for you?”

Without a word, Rayleen turned away to walk upstairs. She stood at the doorway of her room, saw that her things were moved. And she understood perfectly.

She’d imagined something like this. In fact, she’d written what she could do, might need to do, in her diary the night before. Even as she walked down the hall to her parents’ room, her only genuine emotion was a quiet fury that her things had been gone through again, moved around, left untidy.

She liked her things exact. She expected her personal space to be respected.

She went into her mother’s drawers where the medications were hidden. As if anyone could actually hide something from her. They were so stupid, really. She slipped the bottle