Secret Prey

Sister Mary Joseph?’’ Lucas asked.
    Glass shook his head: ‘‘We’ll refuse to answer that.’’
    ‘‘We have gray duct tape from your house with only one set of fingerprints on it,’’ said Sloan. ‘‘The adhesive on the duct tape matches exactly adhesive taken off the door locks outside Susan O’Dell’s apartment. Did you put that tape there, Mrs. McDonald?’’
    ‘‘No, I did not.’’
    The questioning went on for half an hour, Audrey growing more and more angry. Finally, she turned to Glass and said, ‘‘How much longer do we have to do this?’’
    ‘‘You want to stop now?’’
    ‘‘Yes.’’
    ‘‘Then we’re done,’’ Glass said. To Sloan, ‘‘No more questions.’’ Sloan looked at Lucas, reached out to the recorder. Before he could turn it off, Audrey hissed at Lucas. ‘‘You think you’re so smart, but you just don’t understand anything.’’
    Sloan froze, then, as unobtrusively as possible, let his arm slide sideways and rest on the table next to the recorder. Sometimes you got the best stuff after the formal questioning was done.
    ‘‘I think I do,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘I’ve talked to your friends, I’ve talked to your sister. We don’t have every piece, because you got rid of some of them. But there’s enough left to hang you, Audrey.’’
    ‘‘So dumb,’’ she said. She stood up, and turned toward Glass. ‘‘Will there be another bond hearing?’’
    ‘‘Yes, tomorrow morning.’’
    ‘‘Gonna cost you a little more, this time,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘And when we finish all the paper on your mother, we’ll just pick you up again. It’d be easier just to stay put. Mr. Glass could arrange for your sister to watch your house.’’
    ‘‘My sister . . . my sister,’’ she said. She pushed her hands up through her hair, as though she were about to tear it out. ‘‘My sister gave you a lock of Mother’s hair?’’
    ‘‘Yes.’’
    ‘‘That was good of her. And my sister told you about this whole murder idea in the first place, didn’t she?’’
    Lucas looked at Sloan, then nodded. Glass opened his mouth to say something, then shut it.
    ‘‘And did my sister tell you that all those years when I was supposedly killing these people, her sole support came from us? From Wilson and me? That we gave her cash to keep her head above water? That if Wilson didn’t do well, if he lost his job or lost a promotion, she’d be hurt as much as we would? Did she tell you about our father feeling her up, about finding a box of rat poison in the machine shed and pouring it into Dad’s whiskey? Did my sister tell you all of that? Did she tell you about fighting with Mom about screwing boys out by the cornfield in Lakeville? And more than that, screwing them for money? Did you look at everything you have, and ask, ‘What if her sister did it?’ And did you ask, if you send little Audrey McDonald off to prison, if she could tolerate it? I’ll answer that for you: I’m claustrophobic. I wouldn’t last a year in a prison. I’d find some way to hang myself. And then who gets my share of the money? My sister? That’s what she thinks . . .’’
    Lucas was astonished: at that moment, he believed that Audrey believed. She was utterly convincing, a beetle-hard, scuttling young-old woman. ‘‘Jesus,’’ he said.
    ‘‘We gotta stop,’’ Glass said convulsively. ‘‘We gotta stop this.’’
    He put an arm around Audrey to stop her: and for a moment, the woman’s dead cobra eyes gave something away, a spark, something almost like humor. Then the moment passed, and she was as sullen as ever.
    Lucas looked after her as she left: What was this all about?
    LUCAS AND SLOAN STOPPED AT A GREASY SPOON ON the way home, Lucas following Sloan out in separate cars. As they walked inside, Sloan said, ‘‘What if the sister did it?’’
    Lucas shook his head: ‘‘No way.’’
    ‘‘Why not?’’
    ‘‘She was too young to kill her old man; I don’t care if he was groping her. But the big thing is, why would she ever risk calling attention to that whole string of killings?
    Even if she blamed them on McDonald, there was always the possibility that McDonald would be able to prove that he didn’t do it . . . and if he could prove he couldn’t do any one of them, then all of them would be in question. Nope. Whoever killed these people—Audrey—is too smart to have called attention to them.’’
    ‘‘But what . . . what if she saw Wilson