B
ill didn't like Nick Hutchins. The social worker seemed to have it in for him. Nick had been giving him too much grief lately. His monthly inspections of the home had stepped up to twice monthly, and he seemed too curious about the children, especially those who'd been caught in petty crimes. Bill had tried to explain to him that he wasn't responsible for the value systems of these kids before they came to his home, but that he did the best he could with what he got. If one of them occasionally got himself into trouble, it wasn't Bill's fault.
Now, as Bill followed the man from cottage to cottage, as if Nick expected to find some horrible violation that would warrant a severe reprimand from the state, he wondered what Nick was looking for. Did this impromptu inspection have anything to do with Jimmy's disappearance?
“Are all the kids on the premises right now?” Nick asked casually, walking into a playroom and scanning the children playing games.
So, he does know that Jimmy's missing.
Bill struggled with the idea of candidly admitting to the kid's disappearance. But he couldn't understand why Nick was being so secretive. Why didn't Nick just come out and ask him where Jimmy was, and how long the boy had been missing? No, maybe he was just being paranoid. He decided not to mention it yet. “No, actually,” he said. “We took a vanload to the library this morning. Some of the others had swimming lessons at the Y.”
Nick peered at him skeptically.
They had just turned up the hall so that Nick could snoop in the bedrooms when Stella, the housemother of Cottage B, burst in. “Uh, Bill, could I have a word with you, please?”
“Certainly,” Bill said. “Nick, you'll excuse me for a moment, won't you?”
Nick nodded but didn't say anything, and Bill felt the man's eyes on the back of his neck as he followed Stella out of earshot.
“What is it?”
“It's Jimmy. He called just now, trying to disguise his voice.He wanted to speak to Lisa.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Where is he?”
“I don't know. He hung up before I couldâ”
“I'll find out. Go back in there and keep that jerk from doing us any harm. I have to go to my office for a minute.”
He rushed out of the cottage and across the lawn to his office and bolted inside. He unlocked a closet and checked the Caller ID he kept so that he could monitor the origin of calls coming into each of the cottages. When he'd opened the home, he had had an extension to each line installed right here in his office. He also taped all of the calls made on any campus telephone, either incoming or outgoing. It was what he called quality control. You never really knew whom you could trust. And of course no one, not even his “inner circle” of staff, knew what was in this closet.
He checked the Caller ID for Cottage Bâand saw the name
E. J. Wright.
Bill's heart jumped. Elizabeth Wright. Beth. Jimmy was still in her house? Was he nuts? Hadn't he told that kid to get out of there? But Jimmy hadn't asked to speak to Bill, who could come and get him, but he'd asked instead for Lisaâand in a disguised voice.
Something was wrong. Jimmy had turned on him.
What was he telling Beth? Bill rubbed his forehead and found it cool and wet with sweat. Was Jimmy giving her more fodder for her story? That little twerp knew enough to bring down his whole operation.
Bill hadn't had a lot of time to think this morningâfirst the cops had come to tell him about Marlene's death and ask a ton of questions, and then Nick Hutchins had shown up. But this situation didn't require a lot of thought.
He was going to have to kill both Beth and Jimmy, before she could turn that story in.
H is face hardened with violent determination as he cut back across the lawn to the playground behind Cottage B. He saw Lisa, Jimmy's little sister, sitting alone on a swing, drawing figures in the dirt with the tip of her toe. Her strawberry-blonde hair strung down in her eyes, and he could see from her red eyes that she'd been crying.
He approached her, and she looked up fearfully. “Come here, darlin',” he said, taking her hand. “Come with me.”
Her innocent eyes widened. “Where?”
“We got some trainin' to do. I'm about to promote you from orphan to executive. What do you think about that?”
He could see that she didn't have a clue what he was talking about. “I don't know.”
“See, since Jimmy's gone and got himself in trouble, I'm giving you his job. It was a real important job. You think you're smart enough for it?”
Tears filled her eyes, but she nodded bravely. “When is Jimmy coming back?” she managed to ask through trembling lips.
“Good question,” he said. “Probably never.”
B
ill didn't like to get his hands dirty. That was why he always used the children. It kept him nice and distant, and if the children were ever caught breaking and entering, he could throw up his hands and insist that he'd tried as hard as he could to keep tabs on them, but children would be children, and there wasn't a lot he could do about kids who'd been born among criminalsâexcept love them and show them compassion and hope that some good would rub off on them.
Sure, Bill had compassion. So much compassion that he really wished he could see the look on Beth and Jimmy's faces as they opened the cigar box he was “doctoring” for them.
“Know what this is, darlin'?” he asked Lisa, gesturing toward the cigar box open on the desk before him.
“No, sir.”
“It's a little package we're sending to a friend,” he said. “A friend who's been real good to me. And I'm gonna let you deliver it for me.”
She didn't say anything, just sat in the corner, trying hard not to move.
He set the explosives in carefully, then rigged up the detonator caps so that the bomb would go off the moment the box was opened. He'd never done this before, actually, but he'd read all about it in articles on the Internet about the Unabomber. It was no secret, and he and some of his partners had discussed the precise methods more than once. He couldn't believe how perfectly this would work outâexcept that those two traitors wouldn't get this little present until tomorrow, which could be a problem if Beth finished her story and turned it in to her editor before that. In that case, he'd have to make sure the newspaper didn't get his story out by then. In any event, if there were any questions about Bill's involvement in the explosion, he would be able to prove that he was miles away when the explosion occurred.
He closed the box carefully and wrapped it, then addressed it to Beth Wright and affixed an Express Mail waybill.
“You ready to deliver this for me, darlin'?”
Lisa hesitated. “Where?”
“The post office. You're big enough to take something in by yourself, aren't you? You don't even have to talk to anybody. Just drop it in the slot, and my friend will have it by tomorrow.”
She nodded.
“If you do a good job, Lisa, honey, I'll give you a more important job, like the kind I gave Jimmy. And if you do a bad job . . . well . . .” He propped his chin on his hand and smiled. “Remember that time Jimmy had to stay in bed for two days because he couldn't walk so good? Remember those bruises?”
She seemed frozen.
“Well, just don't do a bad job, darlin'.” He took the package and her hand and led her out to his pickup. He'd parked his Buick in a toolshed at the back of the property; even a stupid cop would be able to match the dents and paint scratches on it to the marks on Beth's car, so he didn't plan to drive it until some of his staff had painted it.
Across the lawn, he saw Nick coming out of one of the cottagesâand heading toward him.
He cursed. “Get in, Lisa, and put the package under the seat.”
She did as she was told, and Bill closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. “You about finished snooping, Nick?” he asked in a pseudo-jovial voice.
“Maybe,” Nick said. “I just wondered where you're taking her.”
“To a birthday party,” he said. “One of her little friends at school. Don't think a kid should miss all the fun just because they're wards of the state, do you?”
Nick looked down at the little girl, and Bill wondered if he knew who she was. He wished she didn't look quite so fragile. “She's a little worried 'cause she's late. I clean forgot about it, but no harm done. She'll get there before they blow out the candles if we hurry.”
Nick backed away from the truck. Bill could see that he was trying to think of a way to detain him. What was Nick up to?
“When will you be back, Bill? I want to talk to you.”
“Won't be long. Haven't we talked enough? Don't you have something constructive to do? The state isn't paying you to hang around here all day, are they?”
Nick wasn't intimidated. “Get somebody else to take her, Bill. I'm not finished with you.”
Bill groaned and got out of the truck. “All right, hold on. I'll get Stella, but I'll have to make sure somebody's watching the kids before she comes.” He looked at Lisa with an apologetic face.
“Sugar, you're gonna be a little bit late, but we'll get you there somehow.”
Lisa looked perplexed.
He helped Lisa out of the truck and took her into his office to make sure that Nick didn't speak privately with her. He called over to Cottage B. “Stella, I need you to come run an errand for me. If you run into Nick, tell him that you're taking Lisa to a birthday party, but don't mention her name. Call her Susan. He might know about Jimmy, and her name might ring a bell.”
“Doesn't he already know her?”
“It's been three years since he's dealt with either of them. He won't remember.”
“Where am I really going?” she asked.
“To the post office. Drop Lisa off at the corner and let her put the package in the âexpress' slot.”
“Is Lisa going to be one of your regulars now?” she asked.
“Isn't she a little young?”
“She's perfect. Just get over here. And don't botch this up.
I've had enough problems lately, and I'm not in a good mood. If you mess this up, everything could blow up in our faces.”
He hung up and took in a deep breath. “If that man asks your name, you tell him it's Susan. Do you hear me?”
Lisa nodded, her eyes big.
“You put the package in the Express Mail slot, and if anyone asks you what it is, you say it's a book for your grandma. Got it?”
She nodded.
“Just do as I say, and when you get back, I'll have a surprise for you.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Will Jimmy be home then?”
He decided he might need that leverage. “He might just be, darlin'.”
He led her back outside as Stella hurried across the lawn. “Come on, sugar. Let's get you to that party.”
B
eth sat back in her squeaky desk chair and sighed. Her article was finishedâcomplete with the quotes by Marlene and Jimmy, along with the sad and suggestive news that Marlene had been murdered immediately after giving the interview. She wished she had another hour to tweak it, but she sensed that time was tight. Sitting forward again, she sent it by modem into the paper, then e-mailed her editor to look for it and call her back. As an afterthought, she electronically transferred the transcribed conversation with Marlene so that it would be on file at the newspaper office.
She went downstairs. Jimmy and the puppy were lying on the area rug in front of the television, curled up together as if they were old friends. She stepped around them and saw that they were both sound asleep.
She smiled. How exhausted Jimmy must be, after spending the night in terror in the attic.
The telephone rang, and she snapped it up. “Hello?”
“Beth, I got your article.” It was Phil, her editor.
“Read it yet?”
“Yep. Interesting. Very interesting. Sure is going to cause a big stir.”
“Phil, this is headline material. You'll print it in the Saturday edition tomorrow, won't you?”
He hesitated. “I don't know, Beth. I'm a little reluctant.”
“Why?” she asked. “What's wrong with it?”
“I'd like a few more quotes. The only two people quoted are a dead woman and a little kid who might just have a vivid imagination.”
“Was it my imagination that the kid broke into my house last night, Phil? I didn't make that up. He's here now.”
“Still, I'd feel better if you could get another quote or two. Somebody who's not dead or a juvenile delinquent.”
“Juvenile delinquent? How do you figure that?”
“Hey, don't get defensive. I'm just pointing out how it's going to look to a skeptical public. He did break into your house.”
“Didn't you read the article? He was
forced
to. And Marlene's dead
because
of the article.”
“The kid's story is suspect, Beth. Sorry, but that's the truth. And you
say
the woman died because of your interview; the police haven't concluded that yet. We need more. Maybe you can find someone who grew up in Brandon's home, someone who's not under his thumb anymore. Maybe they'd be willing to talk. That would be just what we need. And call the police stations in all of the towns within a two-hour radius. Find out how often there was evidence that kids had done it. You know, fingerprints, footprints, maybe they saw them but didn't catch them, that sort of thing.”
She closed her eyes and started to feel sick. “If I compiled all that today, Phil, would you print it tomorrow? It's crucial. This whole thing is taking on a life of its own. Something has to be done with Jimmy, and he's worried about his little sisterâwith good reasonâbut we can't get the kids out of there until there's enough evidence. But if I turn him over to the police,
he
may suffer instead of Bill Brandonâ”