Divine Evil

confrontations.” Joleen swiped at her wet cheeks. “I guess I'm lousy at motherhood, too.”
    “No, don't say that.” For lack of something better,Clare gave her shoulder a helpless pat. “Ernie's just confused.”
    “Could I have one of your cigarettes? I gave them up, but—”
    “Sure.” Clare picked one up and lighted it herself. At the first drag, Joleen shuddered.
    “It's been five years.” She took another, greedy. “Clare, I wasn't cleaning Ernie's room. I was searching it.” She closed her eyes. The smoke made her a little dizzy, but it helped loosen the knots in her stomach. “I swore I would never invade my child's privacy. My mother used to look through my drawers, under the mattress. She thought it was her duty to be sure I wasn't up to something. I swore when I had a child, I would trust him, give him space. Yet I went up to his room twice in the last week, going through his things like a thief. I was looking for drugs.”
    “Oh.”
    “I didn't find any.” Joleen smoked in long, hungry puffs. “I found other things.” Things she couldn't speak of. “What he wrote about you … I think you have a right to know. It was very explicit.”
    The chill started in Clare's stomach and worked its way from there. “I don't suppose it's unusual for a boy to develop a fantasy or even a kind of fixation on an older woman.”
    “That may be. You might not be as kind if you'd read this stuff.”
    “Joleen, have you thought about counseling?”
    “Yes. I'm going to talk to Will, my husband, tonight. As soon as we can find a therapist, we're all going in for counseling. Whatever's wrong with Ernie, with our family, we're going to fix it. They mean everything to me.”
    “The pentagram that Ernie wears. Do you know what it means?”
    Joleen's eyes wavered once, then steadied. “Yes. We're going to take care of that, too. I'm not going to let him get away from me, Clare. No matter how hard he tries.”
    Cam came home after dark, his steps dragging. He'd been a cop long enough to know that paperwork, repetition, and monotony were often the biggest part of the job. But it was hard to be patient when he felt that he was right on the edge of breaking through.
    He was grateful to see Clare's car in front of his house and the light in the window.
    She was dozing on his couch, a paperback novel on her lap and the stereo up too loud. Cam pressed a kiss to her hair and thought how nice it would be to curl up beside her and tune everything out for an hour.
    When he turned the radio down from blast to mellow, she sat straight up, looking like an owl who'd been startled by a beam of sunlight.
    “I guess I made too much quiet,” he said.
    “What time is it?”
    “Little after nine.”
    “Mmm.” She rubbed her eyes. “Did you eat?”
    “That's a very wifely question.” He sat beside her, changed his mind, and stretched out, laying his head in her lap. “I think I had a sandwich.” On a long, long sigh, he let his eyes close. “God, you smell good. How was your day?”
    “You go first.”
    “Long. The rest of the tests came in on Carly Jamison. She'd taken—more likely been given—barbiturates. Loomis released her body to her parents.”
    Knowing small comforts were sometimes the best, she brushed at the hair over his brow. “I wish there was something I could do.”
    “I went out to see Annie again. Got nowhere.” He curled his fingers around Clare's. “I can't seem to find anyone who saw that girl in or around town, just like I can't find anyone who saw Biff on the night he was killed.”
    “Maybe you should let it go for tonight. Start fresh tomorrow.”
    “The longer it takes, the colder the trail.” He opened his eyes. “Clare, you know I've been looking into the land deal your father was involved in. And I've found out something strange. Most of the paperwork is missing.”
    “What do you mean?”
    He sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. “I mean it's gone. There's a deed from the Trapezoid Corporation to E. L. Fine, Unlimited.”
    “I don't understand.”
    “Trapezoid was the company that originally bought the land, through your father. They sold it again, within a month, to the developers. Then Trapezoid was dissolved. I can't find any names.”
    “There have to be names. Who owned it?”
    “I haven't been able to find out. All the documentation is gone. The deed was signed by an agent in Frederick, and he's been dead for five years.”
    “What about the other