want to keep doing what I'm doing. I can make a real difference.'
There was silence. Lacey didn't like herself for it, but she couldn't help it. She started fidgeting. Finally, her father said, 'Douglas has made a stupid error.'
He was letting it go, at least for now. 'Well, he's married, if that's what you mean.'
'Yes, that's exactly what I mean. The woman went after him, then lied about being pregnant. Douglas has always been very careful about taking precautions. I tried to tell him to have blood tests, get positive proof that the child was his, but he said there was no reason for her to lie. He was wrong, of course. The bitch got him. He told me he wanted a kid, that it was time. She wasn't even pregnant. Douglas was a fool.'
'Didn't Douglas want kids with Belinda?'
Her father gave a hoarse laugh. He didn't laugh often. It sounded strange and rusty, and a bit frightening. Her fingers tightened around the phone. 'Remember who her mother is, Lacey. Naturally he wouldn't want to take the risk of any child being as crazy as Belinda's mother.'
'I can't believe he told you that.'
'He didn't, but I'm not stupid.'
She hated this. Usually he was sly in his insults to his wife, but not now. 'She's my mother as well.'
'Yes, well, that's different. I am your father. There's nothing crazy in you.'
Hadn't he told her not two weeks before that her obsession reminded him of her mother's early illness? She shook her head, wanting to hang up, and knowing she wouldn't. 'I never met Belinda's father.'
Her father said coolly, 'That's because we've never mentioned him to you, there was no need. Indeed, Belinda didn't even know what happened to him. Again, there was no reason to be cruel about it.'
'Is he still alive? Who is he?'
'His name's Conal Francis. I can't see that it matters now if you know the truth. He's in San Quentin, at least he was the last time I heard.'
'He's in prison?' Lacey couldn't believe it. Neither he nor her mother had ever said a thing about Belinda's father being in jail.
'What did he do?'
'He tried to murder me. Instead he killed a friend of mine, Lucas Bennett. It was a long time ago, Lacey, before you were born, before your mother and I married. He was a big Irish bully, a gambler, worked for the mob. He must be at least sixty by now. He's four years older than I. Which is why Belinda was cursed. Her genes ruined her. Despite the fact that I raised her, she still would have turned bad. It was already beginning even before she died. A pity, but there it is.'
'But Belinda knew about him, didn't she?'
'She only knew that he'd left her and her mother when she was eight or nine years old. We never told her anything different. There was no point. Look, Lacey, that was a long time ago. You've caught the man who killed her. Belinda's madness died with her. Now the man who killed her will die as well. Forget it, forget all of it.'
She hoped he would prove to be right about that. No, she didn't want to forget Belinda. But at least now that Marlin Jones was in custody, that helpless feeling was gone.
Except for the fact that he'd claimed he hadn't killed Belinda.
'Come home soon, Lacey.' There was a pause, then, 'Do you want to speak to your mother?'
'Oh yes, please, Dad. How is she today?'
'Much the same as always. She's downstairs with me in the library. Here she is.'
Her fingers tightened on the receiver. Her father had spoken about her first husband and Belinda like that in front of her? Savich had come into the room, but it was too late for her to hang up. 'Mom? How are you?'
'I miss you, dearest. I'm glad you caught that bad man. Now you can come home and stay. You always were so pretty, dear, so sweet and pretty. And how well you played the piano. Everyone told me how talented you were. Why, you could teach little children in a kindergarten, couldn't you? You're so suited to something like that. Your grandmother was a pianist, you remember?'
'Yes, Mom, I remember. I'll be home to visit you soon. Not long now and then we'll be together for a couple of days.'
'No, Lacey, I want you to stay here, with me and your father. I have your piano tuned by Joshua Mueller every six months. Remember how much you admired him?'
'Look, Mom, I've got to get back to work now. I love you. Please take care.'
'I always do, Lacey, since your father tried to run me down with that black BMW of his.'
'What? Dad tried to run you down with his BMW?'
'Lacey? It's your father. Your mother is having one of her spells.'
'What did she mean that you tried to run her down?'
'I haven't the foggiest idea.' He sighed deeply. 'Your mother does have good days. This is not one of them. I have never harmed your mother or tried to harm her. Forget what she said, Lacey.'
But how could she? She stared at the phone as if it were a snake about to bite her. She could swear she heard her mother crying in the background.
Savich was looking at her. Her face was white. She looked to be in shock-yes, that was it.
When Savich took the phone from her, she didn't resist. She heard him say in his calm deep voice, 'Judge Sherlock? My name is Dillon Savich. I'm also with the FBI. I'm the head of the Criminal Apprehension Unit. Your daughter works for me. I hope you don't mind, but Lacey is a bit overwhelmed by all that's happened.' He paused, listening to her father. 'Yes, I understand that her mother isn't well. But you must realize that her mother's words shocked her deeply.'
She walked across the room, rubbing her arms with her hands. She heard him say in that firm, calm voice, 'Yes, I will see that she takes care of herself, sir. No, she'll be just fine. Good-bye.'
Savich turned to look at her-nothing more, just to look. Then he said very slowly, 'What in the name of heaven is going on with your family?'
Her laugh was on the shaky side, but it was a laugh. 'I feel like Alice in Wonderland. I've just fallen down the rabbit hole. No, it's always like that, but this is the first time the hole is deeper than I am tall.'
He smiled. 'That's good, Sherlock. You've got some color back. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't scare me again like that.'
'You shouldn't have stayed in the room.'
'Actually, I brought you a message from Marlin Jones. He wants to talk to you again, with his lawyer present. He got Big John Bullock, a hotshot shark from New York who does really well with insanity pleas. I recommend that you don't go. He's doubtless set this up so that his lawyer can humiliate you. He won't let you get to first base with Jones anymore.'
He would have wagered his next paycheck that she'd still insist on seeing Marlin Jones. To his surprise, she said, 'You're right. The police and the D.A. can get the rest of the pertinent information from him. There's nothing more for me to say to him. Can we go home now?'
He nodded slowly. He wondered what she was thinking.
The taxi stopped in front of her town house at ten o'clock that night. She felt more tired than she could ever remember in her life. But it wasn't the peaceful, good sort of tired she would have expected, now that Belinda's killer had been caught.
She hadn't said much to Savich on the flight from Boston or on the ride in the taxi from Dulles to Georgetown. He walked her to the door, saying, 'Sleep late, Sherlock. I don't want to see you before noon tomorrow, you got that? You've had more happen to you in the past three days than in the past five years. Sleep, it's the best thing for you, all right?'
She didn't have any words. How could he know that her brain was on meltdown? 'Would you sing me just one more outrageous country-and-western line before you leave?'
He grinned down at her, set her suitcase down on the front step of her town house, and sang in a soft tenor whine, 'I told her I had oceanfront property in Arizona. She nodded sweetly and I told her to buy it, that I'd throw in the Golden Gate for free. She thanked me oh so sweetly so I told her that I loved her and that I'd be true for all time. Sweetly, sweetly, she kissed me so sweetly and bought every word I said.'
'Thank you, Dillon. That was amazing. That was also very coldhearted and cynical.'
'Anytime, Sherlock. Not until noon now. Hey, that's just a silly song, sung by a lonely man who's not going anywhere. All he can do is dream that he's a winner, which he's not, and he knows it deep down. See ya tomorrow,
