was going to play nice, but the sour expression on his face said otherwise.
“I was just wondering if maybe you forgot your court date.”
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, and the kid who had opened the door stepped into the room.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, and leaned his head on Lyndon’s shoulder.
“She’s trying to take me to court,” Lyndon whined, and wrapped an arm around the boy’s waist. His eyes were very blue and bloodshot. His hair was white blond on the tips and he was wearing baggy blue jeans with the crotch nearly to his knees and a rope for a belt—Old Navy on pot.
“You’re taking him to jail?” the boyfriend wanted to know. His eyes were bright—someone who appreciated a good drama, I could see.
I shook my head. “He just needs to come down to the office with me so we can make up a new agreement and reschedule some stuff.”
Not.
“I don’t feel like doing that today,” Harrison announced.
Oh boy.
“Your mom put up her house for you,” I reminded him. “You know that she could lose it?”
He looked down at me as if I was the most pathetically boring human on earth. “I’ll do it tomorrow,” he said with a lazy blink, and turned away.
I grabbed his right wrist and clamped the cuffs on, and when he spun around, I got them on the other wrist. “Sorry, but tomorrow just doesn’t work for my schedule.”
“Who are you?”
“Bond enforcement,” I answered. “Let’s go.”
“Cool,” gushed the boyfriend as I pushed Lyndon out the door.
“Can Clifford go with us?” Lyndon wanted to know. We were heading down the sidewalk with his boyfriend and the dog trailing behind us toward my car parked curbside.
“Can’t your boyfriend take care of him?”
Lyndon sneered. “Clifford is my boyfriend. Duh!”
I opened the passenger door and helped him into the front seat, ran the seat belt through the cuff chain, and buckled him in just in case he had any bright ideas about a quick exit. “What’s the dog’s name? John?” I asked.
“You’re a total buzzkill.” Lyndon pouted.
In the rearview, I saw Clifford and the dog standing in the center of the oak-lined street. Clifford gave a little wave with his fingers as we pulled away.
Honey, I’m home.
The voice was loud enough to travel over the polished hardwood and through the quiet Morningside house. Setting the briefcase on the table next to the door in the foyer, the killer opened it and slipped into a skintight pair of surgical gloves. A four-inch fishing knife slid easily out of an unsnapped compartment.
How was your day?
The question was delivered loudly but pleasantly, standing at the refrigerator with the door open, a fresh bottle of water in one hand, searching for a snack. Really long day. No time to eat, to do anything. The intruder stomped on the kitchen floor a few times, hard enough and loud enough to be heard downstairs.
Why so quiet? Still mad about last night?
Something stirred. A fat cat was standing at the kitchen door watching the stranger he knew only from the street outside. He opened his mouth and a tiny squeak came out, nothing more.
Where have you been hiding?
The stranger knelt, peeled off a glove, and held out the back of one hand. The cat didn’t hesitate, just walked right over and bumped into it.
Do you have food and water? Let’s get you fixed up. And then I’ll take care of your mother, your needy mother, your silly, stupid, needy fucking mother.
The killer sat at the kitchen table, drank the bottled water, sliced off a few pieces of sharp white cheddar, tried to shake off the day, relax a little while watching the gray tabby crunching dry food.
I’m so sorry to have to leave you alone, buddy, but I have so much to do. So many people are waiting. Time to deliver.
Melissa Dumas was bound to an old straight-back chair in the partially finished basement, where the washer and drier and all the yard tools were stored. She had been dragged down the hard steps by her hair a day ago, barely conscious, head bumping against each step, moaning quietly. She couldn’t have known how many times she’d been stabbed, because she had faded in and out after the second wound. She had begged for water and received only a few drops, just enough to keep her alive.
Her eyes half opened at a sound. What she must have seen surely would have startled her—the intruder was standing in front of her wearing only