The Sleeping Doll

something. Doesn’t know the time of day but there’s a work shed or garage behind the house with some tools in it and some other things of Pell’s. Anybody could’ve just strolled in and walked out with the hammer. Neighbors didn’t see anything. Surprise, surprise, surprise.”
    “Was that Andy Griffith?”
    “Same show. Gomer Pyle.”
    “Bakersfield’s going to keep an eye on the woman’s house?”
    “That’s affirmative. . . . Now, boss, I got the skinny for you. On Winston.”
    “Who?”
    “Winston Kellogg, the FBI guy. The one Overby’s bringing in to babysit you.”
    Babysit  . . .
    “Could you pick a different word?”
    “To oversee you. To ride herd. Subjugate.”
    “TJ.”
    “Okay, here’s the scoop. He’s forty-four. Lives in Washington now but comes from the West Coast. Former military, army.”
    Just like her late husband, she thought. The military part, as well as the age.
    “Detective with Seattle PD, then joined the bureau. He’s with a division that investigates cults and related crimes. They track down the leaders, handle hostage negotiations and hook up cult members with deprogrammers. It was formed after Waco.”
    The standoff in Texas between law officers and the cult run by David Koresh. The assault to rescue the members ended up tragically. The compound burned and most of the people inside died, including a number of children.
    “He’s got a good rep in the bureau. He’s a bit of a straight arrow but he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. That’s a direct quote from my buddy and I have no clue what it means. Oh, one other thing, boss. The Nimue search. No VICAP or other law enforcement reports. And I’ve only checked out a few hundred screen names online. Half of them’re expired; the ones that are still active seem to belong to sixteen-year-old geeks. The real surnames are mostly European and I can’t find anyone who’s got a connection out here. But I did find a variation that’s interesting.”
    “Really? What?”
    “It’s an online role-playing game. You know those?”
    “For a computer, right? One of those big boxes with wires in it?”
    “Touché, boss. It’s set in the Middle Ages and what you do is kill trolls and dragons and nasty things and rescue damsels. Kind of what we do for a living, when you think about it. Anyway, the reason it didn’t show up at first is that it’s spelled differently— N-i-X-m-u-e . The logo is the word Nimue with a big red X in the middle, it. It’s one of the hottest games online nowadays. Hundreds of millions in sales. . . . Ah, whatever happened to Ms. Pac-Man,my personal favorite?”
    “I don’t think Pell’s the sort who’s into computer games.”
    “But he is the sort who killed a man who wrote software.”
    “Good point. Look into that. But I’m still leaning toward it being a name or screen name.”
    “Don’t worry, boss. I can check ’em both out, thanks to all the leisure time you give me.”
    “Enjoying the band?”
    “Double touché.”
    Dance let Dylan and Patsy out for their bedtime business, then made a fast search of the property. No unrecognized cars were parked nearby. She got the animals back inside. Normally they’d sleep in the kitchen but tonight she let them have the run of the house; they made a huge racket when strangers came around. She also armed the window and door alarms.
    Dance went into Maggie’s room and listened to her play a brief Mozart piece on the keyboard. Then kissed her good-night and shut out the light.
    She sat for a few minutes with Wes while he told her about a new kid at the camp who’d moved to town with his parents a few months ago. They’d enjoyed playing some practice matches today.
    “You want to ask him and his folks over tomorrow? To Grandpa’s birthday?”
    “Naw. I don’t think so.”
    After his father’s death Wes had also grown more shy and reclusive.
    “You sure?”
    “Maybe later. I don’t know. . . . Mom?”
    “Yes, dearest son.”
    An exasperated sigh.
    “Yes?”
    “How come you’ve still got your gun?”
    Children . . . nothing whatsoever gets by them.
    “Forgot all about it. It’s going in the safe right now.”
    “Can I read for a while?”
    “Sure. Ten minutes. What’s the book?”
    “ Lord of the Rings .” He opened, then closed it. “Mom?”
    “Yes?”
    But nothing more was forthcoming. Dance thought she knew what was on his mind. She’d talk if he wanted to. But she hoped he didn’t; it’d been