River’s End

his horns. Olivia, a doll among dolls, curled up tight and waited for her mother to come and wake her from a bad dream.
    That’s where Frank Brady found her. He might have overlooked her huddled in with all the bears and dogs and pretty dolls. She didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. Her hair was a golden blond, shiny as rain to her shoulders; her face a colorless oval, dominated by huge amber eyes under brows as dark as mink pelt. Her mother’s eyes, he thought with grim pity. Eyes he’d looked into dozens of times on the movie screen. Eyes he’d studied less than an hour ago and found filmed and lifeless.
    The eyes of the child looked at him, looked through him. Recognizing shock, he crouched down, resting his hands on his knees rather than reaching for her.
    “I’m Frank.” He spoke quietly, kept his eyes on hers. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
    Part of him wanted to call out for his partner, or one of the crime scene team, but he thought a shout might spook her. “I’m a policeman.” Very slowly, he lifted a hand to tap the badge that hung from his breast pocket. “Do you know what a policeman does, honey?”
    She continued to stare, but he thought he caught a flicker in her eyes. Awareness, he told himself. She hears me. “We help people. I’m here to take care of you. Are these all your dolls?” He smiled at her and picked up a squashy Kermit the Frog. “I know this guy. He’s on Sesame Street. Do you watch that on TV? My boss is just like Oscar the Grouch. But don’t tell him I said so.”
    When she didn’t respond, he pulled out every Sesame Street character he could remember, making comments, letting Kermit hop on his knee. The way she watched him, eyes wide and terrifyingly blank, ripped at his heart.
    “You want to come out now? You and Kermit?” He held out a hand, waited. Hers lifted, like a puppet’s on a string. Then, when the contact was made, she tumbled into his arms, shivering now with her face buried against his shoulder. He’d been a cop for ten years, and still his heart ripped.
    “There now, baby. You’re okay. You’ll be all right.” He stroked a hand down her hair, rocking for a moment.
    “The monster’s here.” She whispered it.
    Frank checked his motion then, cradling her, got to his feet. “He’s gone now.”
    “Did you chase him away?”
    “He’s gone.” He glanced around the room, found a blanket and tucked it around her.
    “I had to hide. He was looking for me. He had Mama’s scissors. I want Mama.”
    God. Dear God, was all he could think.
    At the sound of feet coming down the hall, Olivia let out a low keening sound and tightened her grip around Frank’s neck. He murmured to her, patting her back as he moved toward the door.
    “Frank, there’s—you found her.” Detective Tracy Harmon studied the little girl wrapped around his partner and raked a hand through his hair. “The neighbor said there’s a sister. Jamie Melbourne. Husband’s David Melbourne, some kind of music agent. They only live about a mile from here.”
    “Better notify them. Honey, you want to go see your aunt Jamie?”
    “Is my mama there?”
    “No. But I think she’d want you to go.”
    “I’m sleepy.”
    “You go on to sleep, baby. Just close your eyes.”
    “She see anything?” Tracy murmured.
    “Yeah.” Frank stroked her hair as her eyelids drooped. “Yeah, I think she saw too damn much. We can thank Christ the bastard was too blitzed to find her. Call the sister. Let’s get the kid over there before the press gets wind of this.”
    He came back. The monster came back. She could see him creeping through the house with her father’s face and her mother’s scissors. Blood slid down the snapping blades like thin, glossy ribbons. In her father’s voice he whispered her name, over and over again.
    Livvy, Livvy love. Come out. Come out and I’ll tell you a story. And the long sharp blades in his hands hissed open and closed as he shambled toward the closet.
    “No, Daddy! No, no, no!”
    “Livvy. Oh honey, it’s all right. I’m here. Aunt Jamie’s right here.”
    “Don’t let him come. Don’t let him find me.” Wailing, Livvy burrowed into Jamie’s arms.
    “I won’t. I won’t. I promise.” Devastated, Jamie pressed her face into the fragile curve of her niece’s neck. She rocked both of them in the delicate half-light of the bedside lamp until Olivia’s shivers stopped. “I’ll keep you safe.”
    She rested her cheek on the top of