The Sleeping Doll

got home, if Mom asked, we were supposed to say he was with us.” Her face was flushed now.
    Dance recalled that Reynolds hinted Croyton was a womanizer.
    A bitter laugh escaped the girl’s trembling lips. “I saw him. Brenda and me, we were supposed to stay on the boardwalk but we went to an ice cream place across Beach Street. And I saw him. There was this woman getting into his car and he was kissing her. And she wasn’t the only one. I saw him later, with somebody else, going into her apartment or house by the beach. That’s why I didn’t want him to go there. I wanted him to go back home and be with Mommy and us. I didn’t want him to be with anybody else.” She wiped her face. “And so I lied,” she said simply. “I pretended I was sick.”
    So he’d meet his mistresses in Santa Cruz—and take his own children with him to allay his wife’s suspicion, abandoning them till he and his lover were finished.
    “And my family got killed. And it was my fault.”
    Dance leaned forward and said, “No, no, Tare. It’s not your fault at all. We’re pretty sure Daniel Pell intended to kill your father. It wasn’t random. If he’d come by that night and you weren’t there, he would’ve left and come back when your dad was home.”
    She grew quiet. “Yeah?”
    Dance wasn’t sure about this at all. But she absolutely couldn’t let the girl live with the terrible burden of her guilt. “Yeah.”
    Theresa calmed at this tentative comfort. “Stupid.” She was embarrassed. “It’s all so stupid. I wanted to come help you catch him. And I haven’t done anything except act like a baby.”
    “Oh, we’re doing fine,” Dance said with significance, reflecting some intriguing thoughts she’d just had.
    “We are?”
    “Yep . . . In fact, I’ve just thought of some more questions. I hope you’re up for them.” Dance’s stomach gave a peculiar, and opportune, growl just at that moment. They both laughed, and the agent added, “Provided there’re two Frappuccinos and a cookie or two in the near future.”
    Theresa wiped her eyes. “I could go for that, yeah.”
    Dance called Rey Carraneo and set him on the mission of collaring some sustenance from Starbucks. She then made another call. This one was to TJ, telling him to remain in the office; she believed there’d be a change of plans.
    A to B to X  . . .

Chapter 48
    Parked up the road from the Point Lobos Inn, out of sight of the guards, Daniel Pell continued to stare at a space between the cypress trees. “Come on,” he muttered.
    And then, just a few seconds later, there she was, Rebecca, hurrying through the bushes with her backpack. She climbed into the car and kissed him firmly.
    She sat back. “Shitty weather,” she said, grinned and kissed him again. “Sorry I’m late.”
    “Nobody saw you?”
    A laugh. “Climbed out the window. They think I went to bed early.”
    He put the car in gear and they started up the highway.
    This was Daniel Pell’s last night in the Monterey Peninsula—and, in a way, his last night on earth. Later, they’d steal another car—an SUV or truck—and head north, winding along the increasingly narrow and rugged roads of Northern California until they came to Pell’s mountain property. He’d be king of the mountain, king of a new Family, not answering to anybody, no one to interfere. No one to challenge him. A dozen young people, two dozen, seduced by the Pied Piper.
    Heaven  . . .
    But first his mission here. He had to make certain his future was guaranteed.
    Pell handed her the map of Monterey County. She opened a slip of paper and read the street and number as she studied the map. “It’s not too far. Shouldn’t take us more than fifteen minutes.”
    •    •    •
    Edie Dance glanced out the window of the front of her house and observed the police car.
    It certainly made her feel comfortable, with an escaped killer somewhere in the area, and she appreciated the fact that Katie was looking out for them.
    Still, it wasn’t Daniel Pell who occupied her thoughts, but Juan Millar.
    Edie was tired, the old bones not behaving, and she was grateful she’d decided not to work overtime—it was always available for any nurse who wanted it. Death and taxes weren’t the only certain aspects of life; the need for health care was a third, and Edie Dance would have a career for as long as she wished, anywhere she wished. She couldn’t understand her husband’s preference for marine,