The Sleeping Doll

looked, Pell was closing the trunk.”
    Dance closed her eyes and sighed in disgust. Yet another death.
    O’Neil said, “There’s no way he’s staying on the Peninsula anymore. He jacked the car in Marina so he’s headed north. Probably aiming for the One-oh-one.” He climbed into his car. “I’ll set up a command post in Gilroy. And Watsonville, in case he sticks to the One.”
    She watched him drive off.
    “Let’s get up there too,” Kellogg said, turning to his car.
    Following him, Dance heard her phone ring. She took the call. It was from James Reynolds. She briefed him on what had just happened, and then the former prosecutor said he’d been through the files from the Croyton murders. He’d found something that might be helpful. Did Dance have a minute now?
    “You bet.”
    •    •    •
    Sam and Linda huddled together, watching the news reports about yet another attempted murder by Daniel Pell: the writer, Nagle. Rebecca, described as an accomplice of Pell’s, had been badly wounded. And Pell had once again escaped. He was in a stolen car, most likely heading north, the owner of the car another victim.
    “Oh, my,” Linda whispered.
    “Rebecca was with him all along.” Sam stared at the TV screen, her face a mask of shock. “But who shot her? The police? Daniel?”
    Linda closed her eyes momentarily. Sam didn’t know if this was a prayer or a reaction to the exhaustion from the ordeal they’d been through in the past few days. Crosses to bear, Sam couldn’t help but think. Which she didn’t tell to her Christian friend.
    Another newscaster devoted a few minutes to describing the woman who’d been shot, Rebecca Sheffield, founder of Women’s Initiatives in San Diego, one of the women in the Family eight years ago. She mentioned that Sheffield had been born in Southern California. Her father had died when she was six and she’d been raised by her mother, who had never remarried.
    “Six years old?” Linda muttered.
    Sam blinked. “She lied. None of that stuff with her father ever happened. Oh, boy, were we taken in.”
    “This is all way too much for me. I’m packing.”
    “Linda, wait.”
    “I don’t want to talk about anything, Sam. I’ve had it.”
    “Just let me say one thing.”
    “You’ve said plenty.”
    “I don’t think you were really listening.”
    “And I wouldn’t be listening if you said it again.” She headed toward her bedroom.
    Sam jumped when the phone rang. It was Kathryn Dance.
    “Oh, we just heard—”
    But the agent said, “Listen to me, Sam. I don’t think he’s headed north. I think he’s coming for you.”
    “What?”
    “I just heard from James Reynolds. He found a reference to Alison in his old case files. It seems that during his interrogation after the Croyton deaths, Pell assaulted him. Reynolds was questioning him about the incident in Redding, the Charles Pickering murder, and was talking about Alison, his girlfriend you mentioned. Pell went crazy and attacked him, or tried to—the same thing that happened to me in Salinas—because he was getting close to something important.
    “James thinks he killed Pickering because the man knew about Pell’s mountaintop. And that’s why he was trying to find Alison. She’d know about it too.”
    “But why hurt us?”
    “Because Pell told you about Alison. Maybe you wouldn’t make the connection between her and his property, maybe you wouldn’t even remember. But that place is so important to him—his kingdom—that he’s willing to murder anybody who’s a risk to it. That means you. Both of you.”
    “Linda, come here!”
    The woman appeared in the doorway, frowning angrily.
    Dance continued, “I’ve just radioed the officers outside. They’re going to take you to CBI headquarters. Agent Kellogg and I are on our way to the inn now. We’re going to wait in the cabin and see if Pell shows up.”
    Breathlessly Sam said to Linda, “Kathryn thinks Daniel might be coming this way.”
    “No!” The curtains were drawn, but the women instinctively looked toward the windows. Then Sam glanced toward Rebecca’s bedroom. Had she remembered to lock the window after finding that the woman had climbed out? Yes, Sam recalled, she had.
    There was a knock on the door. “Ladies, it’s Deputy Larkin.”
    Sam glanced at Linda. They froze. Then Linda slowly walked to the peephole and looked out. She nodded and opened the door. The MCSO deputy stepped inside. “I’ve been asked to