set it aside.
“What is that?” Gray asked.
“I don’t know. The cap off the bottom of a chair leg, maybe—or from one of those TV trays people use.” She looked around the room. “I never saw it before.”
“You must have. It was in your pocket.”
Her mouth took a stubborn downturn. “Well, I didn’t put it there.”
“That’s an interesting thought.”
“It’s just a rubber cap,” she said and made a move to toss it in a wastebasket.
Gray caught the piece. “I think I’ll hang on to this. You never know, I may come up with an idea about what it is.”
“Which brings me to an intriguing question,” she said. “You knew about the helmet, but you hadn’t been in that warehouse before. Or had you?”
“You know I hadn’t.”
She sat cross-legged on the floor and accepted Winnie on her lap. “Gray, you’re definitely psychic.”
“No, I’m not. I’ve thought about it for hours on and off. I think I’m really in tune with you so I see some of the things you think about.”
“Not bad, but not the whole story. I didn’t see the helmet, Gray. I promise you, I didn’t.” Her attention pulled away. What was she missing? “Did you tell me I’d picked something up in that place? Before? You did, but I didn’t remember.”
Leaning forward, Gray absently hooked Winnie’s bone from beside the couch and held it out to the dog. She raised her snubby nose and ignored him.
“You picked something up,” Gray said.
“Evidently. But you knew it before I did—consciously.”
He waved the chew in the air and Winnie looked sideways at him with something close to a dismissive sneer. “What if I don’t want to be psychic?”
She shrugged. “I never saw anyone who was, but didn’t want to be. It’s got its advantages, y’know.”
“Such as?”
“Finding life and death clues in criminal cases. Sometimes knowing when someone thinks you’re an ass. Stuff like that.”
“Charming.”
“It could be that when you aren’t around me anymore, you’ll lose your touch.”
“What does that mean?” Gray said. “When I’m not around you anymore?”
It meant that she was fishing for reassurance that she might still matter to him when all this was over. “I don’t know,” she lied.
“You…” He fell back on the couch and looked at the ceiling. “I’m not much for fooling around with feelings, Marley. I hope I’ll be around you for a really long time.”
She swallowed and felt silly tears. “Me, too,” she said quietly. “Phew, we’ve dealt with that now.”
Gray made a growling sound and started to reach for her.
Winnie leaped between the two of them, planted her bowed legs and snorted at Gray. Marley was grateful she hadn’t actually snarled, but figured they shouldn’t push it.
“Sorry,” Gray told the dog. “You’re a good girl to guard your mom from evil men. Have your bone.” He pushed it toward her and she took it.
“There’s an elephant in the room,” Marley said. “I think it’s getting bigger, too. We need to talk about it.”
Gray nodded. “Pearl Brite? I haven’t heard one darn word on her whereabouts yet. According to Nat this is one more just like Liza and Amber. Zap, she’s gone.”
“Nat talked to me this afternoon,” Marley said. “I wish I could have been more useful, but at least we’ve made progress. Now he’s a believer—which is good news, bad news. He wants me to keep
“And maybe Pearl Brite?” Gray said. “She sounds like a nice kid. Twenty-four. Lives at home with her dad who doesn’t see so well. Mother dead since Pearl was a little girl and Pearl and her dad have looked after each other. She’s popular at Alexander’s. Some say she’s ready for bigger things.”
Marley propped her chin on a fist.
“What are you thinking?” Gray said.
“It’s not fair. That always sounds so stupid, but it isn’t.”
“No, it isn’t. Did Nat tell you there definitely was no sign of any blood in that warehouse?”
She shook her head.
“That’s hopeful.”
“D’you think? Oh, I hope so.”
“Marley, what’s the deal with the red dollhouse?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask. Will you trust me to explain when I can figure out how? Some things are so much a part of me and my experience that I don’t know how to talk about them. The house is my connection to wherever those women are. That’s the simple explanation.”
“Where did it come from?”
“It was given to me for safekeeping.”
He moved fractionally closer. “By whom?”
“A woman. I don’t know who she was and I can’t find her again. I’ve tried. Please give me some room on this.”
She took hold of the hand he offered and let him pull her to the seat of the couch. Sitting sideways, he looked into her face while he stroked her hair—and kissed her. He adjusted himself to get closer and closed his eyes.
“Mmm-mm,” Marley said. She put her fingers on his lips. “What time are you due at Myrtle Woods?”
“Whoa.” He drew back looking shell-shocked. “Darn it. I’ve got to go.”
“We’ve got to go.”
The day’s flow of tourists had deserted the wide and winding way along River Road. Most of the once fantastic mansions were set well back, but often on modest lots cut from the vast acreage they once commanded. The visible signs of fortunes made in indigo and sugar clung to the shabby-grand houses. So did the odor of inequity.
“I haven’t been out here in years,” Gray said. “I like it better in the evening. You can’t see the decay so clearly.”
Marley said, “You’re right. A bit like a faded photo in sepia tones. But it’s so creepy, it’s great.”
“You would think that.”
She didn’t come back at him for the remark and he was grateful.
The devil made him ask, “Are you afraid of the dark, or ghosts, or any of that stuff?”
Marley glanced at him and, with a completely straight face, said, “Not the dark. Ghosts are okay if they aren’t the mean kind. Pinching isn’t my thing. And getting your ears pulled is the pits. I could do without poltergeists. Werewolves can be benevolent—but they’re unpredictable. I don’t think about any of those much, but I really have negative vibes about the undead.”
She gave him an odd look. “Don’t you?”
Gray frowned, searching for a way to change the subject. “You didn’t say how your dad is. It must have been at least kind of nice to see him.”
“It was. He’s my dad. Same as always. Bossy. He was just fine, thank you. Gus doing okay?”
He smiled to himself. “Irascible as ever. I got in a few hours’ work this afternoon and he hovered the whole time. All he wanted to talk about was you.”
“Am I supposed to feel bad about that?” She gave him a puckish smile.
Gray sighed. “Gus has got a sense of humor, thank God. If you can laugh at yourself it’s got to make life a lot easier—even when it’s hard.”
Myrtle Woods bore no marker. If you didn’t have an idea where to turn in, you’d drive right by.
