The Sleeping Doll

want to spend it on us.”
    “No, I’m going to pay you back.” Never, ever let a woman know you want her for her money. And never, ever be in another human being’s debt.
    He kissed her in a preoccupied way. “But what’re we going to do now?”
    Jennie avoided his gaze and stared into the sun. “I . . . I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m not . . .” Her voice ran out of steam, just like her thoughts.
    He squeezed her leg. “I can’t let anything hurt us. I love you so much.”
    Faintly: “And I love you, Daniel.”
    He took the knife from his pocket. Stared at it. “I don’t want to. I really don’t. People’ve been hurt yesterday because of us.”
    Us . Not me .
    She caught the distinction. He could sense it in the stiffening of her shoulders.
    He continued, “But I didn’t do that intentionally. It was accidental. But this . . . I don’t know.” He turned the knife over and over in his hand.
    She pressed against him, staring at the blade flashing in the sunset. She was shivering hard.
    “Will you help me, lovely? I can’t do it by myself.”
    Jennie started to cry. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t think I can.” Her eyes were fixed on the rump of the car.
    Pell kissed her head. “We can’t let anything hurt us. I couldn’t live without you.”
    “Me too.” She sucked in breath. Her jaw was quivering as much as her fingers.
    “Help me, please.” A whisper. He rose, helped her to her feet and they continued to the Lexus. He gave her the knife, closed his hand around hers. “I’m not strong enough alone,” he confessed. “But together . . . we can do it together.” He looked at her, eyes bright. “It’ll be like a pact. You know, like a lovers’ pact. It means we’re bonded as close as two people can be. Like blood brothers. We’d be blood lovers .”
    He reached into the car and hit the trunk-release button. Jennie barked a faint scream at the sound.
    “Help me, lovely. Please.” He led her toward the trunk.
    Then she stopped.
    She handed him the knife, sobbing. “Please . . . I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Don’t be mad. I can’t do it. I just can’t.”
    Pell said nothing, just nodded. Her miserable eyes, her tears reflecting red from the melting sun.
    It was an intoxicating sight.
    “Don’t be mad at me, Daniel. I couldn’t stand it if you were mad.”
    Pell hesitated for three heartbeats, the perfect length of time to hatch uncertainty. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”
    “Am I still your lovely?”
    Another pause. “Of course you are.” He told her to go wait in the car.
    “I—”
    “Go wait for me. It’s okay.” He said nothing more and Jennie walked back to the Toyota. He continued to the trunk of the Lexus and looked down.
    At Susan Pemberton’s lifeless body.
    He’d killed her an hour before, in the parking lot of her building. Suffocated her with duct tape.
    Pell had never intended Jennie help him kill the woman. He’d known she’d balk. This whole incident was merely another lesson in the education of his pupil.
    She’d moved a step closer to where he wanted her. Death and violence were on the table now. For at least five or ten seconds she’d considered slipping the knife into a human body, prepared to watch the blood flow, prepared to watch a human life vanish. Last week she’d never have been able to conceive of the thought; next week she’d consider it for a longer period.
    Then she might actually agree to help him kill someone. And later still? Maybe he could get her to the point where she’d commit murder by herself. He’d gotten the girls in the Family to do things they hadn’t wanted to—but only petty crimes. Nothing violent. Daniel Pell, though, believed he had the talent to turn Jennie Marston into a robot who would do whatever he ordered, even kill.
    He slammed the trunk. Then snagging a pine branch, he used it to obscure the footprints in the sand. He returned to the car, sweeping behind him. He told Jennie to drive up the road until the car was on gravel and he obliterated the tire prints, as well. He joined her.
    “I’ll drive,” he said.
    “I’m sorry, Daniel,” she said, wiping her face. “I’ll make it up to you.”
    Begging for reassurance.
    But the lesson plan dictated that he give no response whatsoever.

Chapter 25
    He was a curious man, Kathryn Dance was thinking.
    Morton Nagle tugged at his sagging pants and sat down at the coffee table in her office, opening a battered