The Sleeping Doll

Pell, shaking his head, climbed out too. He stood, studying the damage.

"Weren't you looking?" The driver of the Infiniti was a middle-aged Latino man. "I just bought it last month." He glanced up from the cars and frowned at the blood on Pell's arm. "Are you hurt?"

His eyes followed the stain down to Pell's hand, where he saw the gun.

But by then it was too late.

Chapter 52

The first thing Kathryn Dance had done at Nagle's house-while TJ called in the escape-was to phone the deputy guarding her parents and children and have him take them, under guard, to CBI headquarters. She doubted Pell would waste time at this point carrying out his threats, but she wasn't going to take any chances.

She now asked the writer and his wife if Pell had said anything about where he might be fleeing, especially his mountaintop. Nagle had been honest with Pell; he'd never heard anything about an enclave in the wilderness. He, his wife and children could add nothing more. Rebecca was badly wounded and unconscious. O'Neil had sent a deputy with her in the ambulance. The moment she was able to talk, he'd call the detective.

Dance now joined Kellogg and O'Neil, who stood nearby, heads bowed, as they discussed the case. Whatever personal reservations O'Neil had about the FBI man, and vice versa, you couldn't tell it from their posture and gesturing. They were efficiently and quickly coordinating roadblocks and pla

O'Neil took a phone call. He frowned. "Okay, sure. Call Watsonville… I'll handle it." He hung up and a

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 co

"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 i

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 take you to CBI. Just leave everything and come with me." The other deputy was outside, looking around the parking lot.

Sam said into the phone, "It's the deputy, Kathryn. We're leaving now."

They hung up.

Samantha grabbed her purse. "Let's go." Her voice was shaking.

The deputy, hand near his pistol, nodded them forward.

At that moment a bullet struck him in the side of his head. Another shot, and the second deputy grabbed his chest, slumping to the ground, crying out. A third bullet struck him as well. The first officer crawled toward his car and collapsed on the sidewalk.

Linda gasped. "No, no!"

Footsteps were ru

Sam was paralyzed.

Then she leapt forward and slammed the door, managed to get the chain on and step aside just as another bullet snapped through the wood. She lunged for the phone.

Daniel Pell gave two solid kicks. The second one cracked the lock on the door, though the chain held. It opened only a few inches.

"Rebecca's room!" Sam cried. She ran to Linda and grabbed her arm but the woman stood rooted in the doorway.

Sam assumed she was frozen in panic.

But her face didn't look frightened at all.

She pulled away from Sam. "Daniel," she called.

"What are you doing?" Sam screamed. "Come on!"

Pell kicked the door again, but the chain continued to hold. Sam dragged Linda a step or two closer to Rebecca's bedroom but she pulled away. "Daniel," Linda repeated. "Please, listen to me. It's not too late. You can give yourself up. We'll get you a lawyer. I'll make sure you're-"

Pell shot her.