The Third Victim Part 38

"They're all done with school for a bit as well."

"It's not summer."

"It's almost summer."

"Mommy, it's not summer."

"Becky .. . You know something bad happened at school, right? You understand that?" Becky nodded.

"Well, that bad thing has made everyone sad. You're sad, aren't you?"

Becky nodded again.

"I'm sad," Sandy said softly.

"Daddy's sad. And the other kids, they're sad too. So for a little bit, because everyone is so sad, there's no school."

"But someday?"

"Someday, Becky, yes, there will be school. But it's okay, honey! It won't be until you're ready, and we'll make sure the school is very safe. So the bad thing ' The monster."

Sandy hesitated.

"Yes, so the monster can't happen anymore."

Becky stared at her. Her eyes were big and serious. Sandy hadn't realized until now just how old her little girl had become. Then Becky returned her attention to her bowl of whipped cream and Jell-O. Sandy understood. Becky didn't believe her. She already a.s.sumed her world wouldn't be safe again. Not in a time when monsters could go to school.

Sandy returned to the kitchen sink, downing the last of her orange juice and then carefully, methodically was.h.i.+ng the gla.s.s. The light on the answering machine blinked madly at her, but she'd already heard the message yesterday. Mitch.e.l.l trying to find her, before Shep had changed their phone number to end the relentless calls. Mitch.e.l.l, so sorry to disturb her at a time like this, but he was desperately trying to get his hands on the Wal-Mart reports. Could she please give him a quick buzz and tell him where he might find the files?

Sandy knew what he was looking for. She could picture the files perfectly in her mind. But she hadn't picked up the phone and called him back.

Maybe Shep was right. Maybe she'd been working too much, putting her own needs in front of the children's. If she'd been home more, paying more attention ... If Danny had felt safer, more important, more loved .. .

If ... if ... if ... Sandy shut off the water. Her hands were shaking on the faucet; she had tears in her eyes. Mommy, what happened to school?

I want to make the world safe. Oh G.o.d, honey. I wish I could make the world safe for you.

"Mommy."

Sandy turned back to Becky. For a moment, she thought she saw blood on her daughter's face and she nearly screamed. Strawberry Jell-O, her mind filled in belatedly. Strawberry Jell-O.

But then she saw the tears in her daughter's eyes.

"My tongue hurts."

Sandy rushed across the kitchen. She looked at her daughter's mouth, and to her dismay, she realized it was bleeding. Poor Becky's tongue was bleeding.

"What happened? Did you bite your tongue? Ah, honey, let me get you a washcloth and an ice cube. Hang on a second."

She picked up the salad, carrying it over to the sink. It wasn't until she was running a fresh washcloth under the tap that she looked in the bowl and noticed the way light glinted off fragments of Jell-O.

Very slowly, Sandy got out a spoon. She dug through the salad. She pulled out five shards of gla.s.s.

Baby killer. Baby killer. Baby killer.

It's a children's salad! Even if you hate us, what kind of animals put shattered gla.s.s in a f.u.c.king children's salad!

She returned to Becky with surprising calmness. She wiped off her little girl's face; she gave her an ice cube to suck on. Already the bleeding appeared to have stopped. The gla.s.s shards were small. Maybe they hadn't done much damage.

Tenderly Sandy feathered back Becky's fine blond hair.

"How are you feeling, honey?"

"Okay."

"Did you eat much?" she asked lightly.

Becky shook her head.

"Not hungry."

"If your tummy hurts, you'll tell me, won't you?"

Becky nodded. Sandy decided to let it go. Becky seemed fine and Sandy didn't want to frighten her with another trip to the emergency room.

"I know," Sandy said briskly, 'let's make some snicker-doodle cookies!

I'll bring out all the ingredients and you can help me measure everything. How does that sound?"

Becky shrugged.

"Wonderful. Let me just clean this stuff up and we'll be on our way."

Sandy gave her daughter a bright, rea.s.suring smile. She kept her chin high and her features composed. Then she returned to the kitchen sink, where she spooned all the Jell-O salad and the three other ca.s.seroles into the garbage disposal while she swore to herself that she would not, would not, would not cry.

"Don't let the monster get you, Mommy."

"Becky, I would never dream of doing any such thing." Thursday, May 17, 6:33 a.m.

Quincy did not dream of his daughter. In the gray hours of the morning, he tossed and turned in the pink Motel Hotel, caught in a case that had happened nearly a decade ago. Thirteen-year-old Candy Wallace, with the pretty blond hair and hundred-watt smile. Beautiful, sunny Candy Wallace, who was raised a devout Baptist and had no idea of the true evil that lurked in men's hearts.

She was s.n.a.t.c.hed on her way home from school on a normal Wednesday afternoon. One minute she was walking down the street. The next, a pile of books was all that remained.

But Candy's captor hadn't really wanted Candy. He wanted Polly, her sixteen-year-old sister, and getting the wrong sibling angered him. So he took to calling the Wallaces' home. He would put Candy on the phone. And then he would do things to her while her sister and parents listened.

After the first phone call, Quincy was brought in to listen as well.

They considered him to have expert ears.

Now, in the throes of his dream, he did not remember Candy Wallace's screams or the agonized face of her mother. He did not recall her sister Polly begging for the man to stop, to please come take her instead. She would willingly go with him if he would just let her little sister go. Please, please, please .. .