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Serena nodded, then buried her face in Marvin's shoulder and Steven pushed back from the table. The little girl had been through quite enough tonight. He stood up and leaned over the table, brushing his palm over the little girl's dark curls.
Je
He cleared his throat and met A
A
Steven looked at A
Mrs. Braden bristled. "Why not now?" she demanded in a hushed whisper. "What's wrong with right now?"
Sheriff Braden put his arms around his mother's shoulders. "It's not a good idea to investigate a crime scene at night. Mom," he told her. "They might miss something, or worse, destroy it because it's too dark to see."
"I will make sure the area is roped off, Mrs. Braden." Steven assured her. "And I'll make sure nobody goes near it until dawn."
Mrs. Braden jerked a nod, looking very much like her daughter as she did so. "Thank you," she said, her voice hoarse.
You're welcome seemed incredibly inadequaic. "We're doing everything we can, Mrs. Braden."
Her eyes filled. "I know." Then she stifled a sob ind turned to bury her face against the starched fabric of her son's uniform. Sheriff Braden looked at Steven, and once again he saw helpless misery.
Steven squeezed Braden's shoulder. "I'll see myself out."
"I'll walk with you," Mike said behind him, then added to Braden, "I'll be right back."
Mike paused in the darkened hallway just outside the kitchen. "You did great, Steven," he said, and Steven heard pride in his old friend's voice. "That little girl was terrified, but you made it as easy as you could." He forced a grin and threw his arm around Steven's shoulders in a clumsy hug. "Y'done good, boy."
"Thanks." Steven looked back at the kitchen with a frown, then back at Mike. "You know Sammie's probably dead by now," he murmured.
Mike swallowed and his forced grin disappeared. "I know. So do they."
Steven sighed. "I need to go." He stepped from the darkened hallway into the light of the living room where Je
Beside him Mike stopped and Steven found his friend's face lit with a genuine smile. "Well, hello!" Mike drawled and Steven's face heated. "Do you plan to introduce us?"
"There are some times I wish you weren't a priest," Steven muttered.
"Steven, Steven, Steven," Mike said, quiet humor in his voice. "Five Hail Marys for just thinking what you just didn't say." He stepped forward, his hand outstretched. "I'm Father Mike Leone, an old friend of Steven's. You must be Je
She shook Mike's hand. "That's right. But, um, Steven didn't mention you."
Mike laughed softly. "No, I don't suppose he would. It's very, very nice to meet you, Je
Je
"Father Mike is fine. Yes, I've known Steven since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. Oh, the stories I could tell. Where do you want me to begin? Pick a year, any year."
Steven gritted his teeth. You wouldn't, he wanted to say. Of course he would, came the reply from his more pragmatic self.
Je
Steven felt a rush of appreciation. She'd felt his discomfort, but instead of exploiting it, she turned the focus to Mike.
"Probably because our mothers knew we'd be as heavenly as the archangel Michael himself," Mike declared reverently, looking up at the ceiling.
Je
Mike looked impressed. "Wow, good memory."
"She has a Ph.D.," Steven replied, as if that explained everything. "Well, we need to be going. I have a lot of work to do."
Je
Mike looked back at the Egglestons' kitchen door, sobering. "I have to be getting back to the Egglestons. It was nice to meet you, Je
She nodded. "I'll try, Father."
And Steven got the feeling she really meant it.
Tuesday, October 4, 10:45 P.M.
She'd put a frozen pizza in the oven. The aroma met Steven's nose as he closed her front door behind him for the second time. He patted the head of whichever dog he'd just walked and looked longingly at the soft brown sofa. He'd bet a week's pay he'd fall asleep as soon as he sat down on it.
He was bone-tired. It had been one hell of a long day.
The area behind McDonald's near the railroad tracks was sealed off, a patrol car assigned to assure no one further contaminated the scene. Steven honestly didn't believe they'd find anything in an open area after five days, but stranger things had happened.
There was almost no chance they'd find Samantha Eggle-ston alive. He could only hope they found her dead, so at least they could find any clues the sick bastard might have left behind.
The killer had left nothing behind at the clearing where they'd found Lorraine Rush. No hairs, no footprints. Nothing but an eviscerated body. And a fresh tattoo, half of which had been scavenged as the body lay out in the open, unprotected. The picture of Lorraine's mutilated body flashed in his mind and he wanted to close his eyes, but knew it would only make the picture clearer. More ghastly. More real. He shivered, suddenly cold.
Je
He stood still, just enjoying the warmth of her smile, which faltered when she saw his face. Sobering, she came all the way out of the kitchen. "Are you all right, Steven? You look like you've seen-" She broke off abruptly.
"A ghost?" he asked, a sardonic edge to his voice, remembering the expression Melissa's face would take when he came home late, tired, his mind full of images. Vile, inescapable images of what one Homo sapiens could do to another. At first Melissa's smile of welcome would falter, just like Je
"Something like that." Je
Je
Je