The Sleeping Doll

Yep, it was. Morton Nagle would not have approved; perhaps the tactless entrepreneur would appear as a footnote in The Sleeping Doll.

As Dance was walking back to the car, she was aware of a woman nearby, looking out into the mists toward the ocean, her jacket fluttering in the breeze. As Dance continued on, the woman turned away from the view and fell into a pace that matched the agent's, not far behind.

She also noticed that a blue car was parked nearby. It was familiar. Was this the driver who'd been behind her? Then she noticed that it was a Ford Focus, and recalled that the vehicle stolen at Moss Landing had never been recovered. It too was blue. Were there any other loose ends that-

At that moment the woman walked up to her quickly and called, a harsh voice over the wind, "Are you Kathryn Dance?"

Surprised, the agent stopped and turned. "That's right. Do I know you?"

The woman continued until she was a few feet away.

She took off her sunglasses, revealing a familiar face, though Dance couldn't place it.

"We've never met. But we kind of know each other. I'm Daniel Pell's girlfriend."

"You're-" Dance gasped.

"Je

Dance's hand dropped to her pistol.

But before she touched the weapon's grip, Je

"I was supposed to kill you."

This news didn't alarm her as much as it might, considering that Daniel Pell was dead, Je

"He gave me a gun, but it's back at the motel. Really, I'd never hurt you."

She didn't seem capable of it, true.

"He said no policeman had ever gotten into his mind like you had. He was afraid of you."

Threats have to be eliminated…

"So he faked your death?"

"He cut me." Je

"You agreed?"

"I didn't really say anything one way or the other." She shook her head. "He was so hard to say no to… He just assumed I would. Because I'd always done what he wanted. He wanted me to kill you and then come live with him and Rebecca in the woods somewhere. We'd start a new Family."

"You knew about Rebecca?"

"He told me." In a wisp of a voice: "Did she write the emails to me? Pretending to be him?"

"Yes."

Her lips pressed together tightly. "They didn't sound like the way he talked. I thought somebody else wrote them. But I didn't want to ask. Sometimes you just don't want to know the truth."

Amen, thought Kathryn Dance. "How did you get here? Did you follow me?"

"That's right. I wanted to talk to you in person. I thought if I just turned myself in, they'd take me right to jail. But I had to ask: Were you there when he was shot? Did he say anything?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"Oh. I was just wondering." Her lips tightened, a kinesic clue to remorse. Then a glance at Dance. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I've had worse scares lately," Dance told her. "Why didn't you run, though? Maybe in a few weeks, when your body didn't wash up on shore, we'd've wondered. But you could've gotten to Mexico or Canada by the time we started searching."

"I guess I just got out from underneath his spell. I thought things'd be different with Daniel. I got to know him first-you know, not just the physical stuff-and we developed this real co

"All my life I thought I needed a man. I'd have this idea I was like a flash-light and men were the batteries. I couldn't shine without one in my life. But then after Daniel was killed I was in this motel room and all of a sudden I felt different. I got mad. It was weird. I could taste it, I was so mad. That, like, never happened to me before. And I knew I had to do something about it. But not moaning about Daniel, not going out and finding a new man. Which I always would do in the past. No, I wanted to do something for me. And what's the best thing I could do? Get arrested." She gave a laugh. "Sounds stupid, but it's all my decision. Nobody else's."

"I think that's a good one."

"We'll see. So, I guess that's it."

It pretty much was, Dance decided.

She escorted Je

Still, the woman had surrendered voluntarily and appeared as contrite as they came. Dance would interview her later, if she agreed, and if Je

At the lockup in the courthouse Dance processed her into the system.

"Is there anybody you want me to call?" Dance asked.

She started to say something, then stopped and gave a soft laugh. "No. I think it's best, you know, just to start over. I'm fine."

"They'll get you a lawyer, then maybe you and I could spend some more time talking."

"Sure."

And she was led down the very hallway her lover had escaped from almost one week before.

Chapter 63

It was perhaps a spectacularly bright Saturday afternoon two or three hundred feet up, but the grounds of Monterey Bay Hospital were leached gray by the dense fog.

The mist carried with it the fragrance of pine, eucalyptus and flowers-gardenia, Kathryn Dance believed, but wasn't sure. She liked plants but, like meals, she preferred to purchase them fully functional from those in the know, rather than try her own hand and risk destruction.

Standing beside one of the gardens, Dance watched Linda Whitfield being wheeled out of the front door by her brother. Roger was a slim, austere man whose age could have been anywhere from thirty-five to fifty-five. He fit Dance's expectations, quiet and conservative, wearing pressed jeans, a dress shirt starched and ironed, and a striped tie, held in place with a bar that had a cross on it. He'd greeted Dance with a very firm handshake and no smile whatsoever.

"I'll get the truck. Excuse me, please."

"Are you up for the drive?" Dance asked the woman after he'd gone.

"We'll see. We know some people in Mendocino who used to be in our church. Roger called them. We might stop there for the night."

Linda's eyes were unfocused and she'd been giving giddy laughs at nothing in particular; Dance deduced that the painkiller she'd taken was really, really good.

"I'd vote for stopping. Take it easy. Be coddled."

"Coddled." She laughed at the word. "How's Rebecca? I haven't asked about her."

"Still in intensive care." A nod at the hospital. "Probably not too far from where you were."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"They think so."

"I'll pray for her." Another laugh. It reminded Dance of Morton Nagle's signature chuckle.

Dance crouched down beside the chair. "I can't thank you enough for what you did. I know it was hard. And I'm so sorry you were hurt. But we couldn't've stopped him without you."

"God does His work, life goes on. It's all for the good."

Dance didn't follow; it was like one of Charles Overby's nonsequiturs.

Linda blinked. "Where will Daniel be buried?"

"We called his aunt in Bakersfield, but she doesn't even remember her own name. His brother-Richard? He's not interested. He'll be buried here after the autopsy. In Monterey County, for indigent funerals, the body's cremated. There's a public cemetery."