Vengeance: Mystery Writers of America Presents

knife against her left hand, the brick-shaped wad of paper against her right.

He opened the door for her. Of course he did.

It was over fast. She knew it would be. He was a lifelong junkie with slow reflexes and no idea what was about to happen when he turned to get that glass of water she asked for. Blade into the carotid artery, the results of which she’d seen in so many autopsies. He never even touched her.

The hardest part was waking Kiley, but she had no choice. She lifted the girl from her bed. Was it her imagination or was the child lighter than the last time she’d held her at Janice Miller’s house? Chance had probably been trading food stamps for drugs instead of feeding the poor thing.

She held Kiley close to her chest and grabbed the stuffed raccoon from the bed. “Shhh,” she whispered. “It won’t be long, baby girl.”

She set Kiley on the worn linoleum of the bloody kitchen floor and then started walking backward toward the living room, waving the stuffed toy in front of her as she moved. “Come here, sweetie. Come play with your Coo- Coo. Yeah, good girl. You’re such a good girl. Now you’re safe. No more bad things in the kitchen, okay?” Kiley followed her. Diane gave her the stuffed animal.

She dialed 911 and let the receiver fall to the floor.

“Don’t be afraid, Kiley. Someone will be here in just a few minutes. We’re going to be all right.” Diane tried not to cry as she looked one last time at Kiley, alone on the living room rug with nothing but a blood-smeared acrylic raccoon.

“THE FINAL CASE on the docket, Your Honor. Kiley Chance.”

Stone nodded as Diane reminded him of the court’s decision to reinstate custody of the child to her biological father, Kyle Chance.

“Mr. Chance’s body was found in his apartment late Wednesday night.” Stone emitted multiple tsk noises as she outlined the facts. Fatally stabbed. A wad of paper found at the scene. Not money, but a twenty-dollar bill folded around strips of newspaper cut to resemble bills. The police believe it was likely a drug deal gone bad. Chance tried to bilk the seller. Got a knife in the neck in return. The perpetrator at least had the decency to dial 911 before leaving.

The judge said, “I guess we’ll have to chalk this up to a lesson about the fragility of recovery from addiction.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” As if she hadn’t warned him.

“And what do you need from me today, Miss Light?”

“Nothing imminent. I thought you deserved the earliest possible update on the case status. The child is back in the group home where she resided prior to placement with her father, and the State is trying to secure a foster home for her.”

“Sad stuff. All right, we’re done here?”

She had expected Stone to at least ask about the chances of a foster placement before calling it a day.

“It won’t be easy to find a home for this girl. The prenatal drug exposure, the sexual abuse, and now having apparently witnessed the murder of her father — she was covered in his blood — well, the deck is stacked against her.”

I’m so sorry, Kiley. I’m so sorry for waking you. For putting you through that. For the blood. But I couldn’t take a chance. According to dispatch, it was only six minutes before police arrived. Six minutes I hope you can’t remember. Six minutes that were nothing compared to what your parents put you through.

“I thought there was an aunt or something?”

“The father’s sister. Even she won’t take her. Potential parents assume she’s damaged goods.”

“What about that offer you made, Miss Light? I don’t suppose that door is still open?”

Stone laughed, mocking what he still considered her overly dramatic objection to his initial ruling. She joined him with an awkward giggle.

“Actually, Your Honor, I suppose I should put my money where my mouth is. Yes, I guess if it’s acceptable to you, I am willing to take her home. Just temporarily. The child does know me, after all. Maybe something else will come through in a week or two. And if worst comes to worst, once she starts making progress with speech therapy, it will be easier to find another placement for her.”

“Well, I’d say that’s very generous of you, Miss Light. You’re sure about this?”

“Sure, Your Honor. Why not?” Not one of the million little goose bumps she felt beneath her sleeves revealed itself in her voice.

THAT AFTERNOON, DIANE’S cell pinged as she strapped on her seat belt. She pulled it from her purse and saw a new message on the screen. From Mark again. He couldn’t call or even e-mail like a regular adult. He was like a teenager with the texting. Mindy in Seattle so I’m mister mom this week. Any chance you’re willing to meet Nicole? Know it’s a lot to ask. Trying to find a way to be friends.

Nicole. At least Mark and Mindy hadn’t named their kid some stupid matching M-name.

She hit Delete and looked at herself in the rearview mirror. Behind her she saw last night’s purchases: a child safety seat and the biggest, best stuffed raccoon she could find. Maybe they’d call him Coo-Coo Two.

She was careful as she backed out of the parking space. She was in a hurry but would need to be a more cautious driver now. She was picking up her daughter.

“WHAT COLOR IS this one?”

“Red!”

“How about this one?”

“Yellow!”

“And this?”

“Ahnje!”

“That’s right. Orange. And all of these flowers are called tulips. Isn’t that a funny name? Tulips.”

Kiley smiled and pointed at Diane’s mouth. “Two lips.”

She and Kiley had been together nearly six months. The adoption wasn’t quite finalized, but Diane had nevertheless succumbed to the calls from her old downtown colleagues to bring her daughter for a visit. It was a rare dry day in April, so after leaving the office, they’d gone over to enjoy the bloom of tulips on the Portland Park Blocks. The area’s potpourri of college students and homeless people shared the lush green grass and an occasional park bench.

She reached into the brown sack in her purse. “What’s this, Kiley?”

“Coo-kie.”

Maybe someday her daughter would talk her ears numb, but for now, Diane cherished every word. In light of Kiley’s progress, her speech and cognition therapists said she might even be ready to start kindergarten with her own age group.

Diane broke off an especially chocolaty piece of cookie for Kiley and kissed her on the forehead. “That’s right. And you are my little cookie monster.” She allowed herself a bite as well. She wasn’t worried about the few extra pounds. It was normal to gain weight with a child around.

She heard her cell phone beep in her purse. She recognized the office extension on the display screen.

“Light.”

“Hey, Diane. It’s Sam Kincaid.” Kincaid was the major-crimes attorney who’d inherited Diane’s caseload last year. “I hope you don’t mind my calling your cell, but I hear you and your sweetie were doing the rounds on your old stomping grounds.”

“Yeah, we just headed out.” Kincaid was a good lawyer but a little high maintenance for Diane’s taste. They’d never been close.

“Shoot. I was hoping to catch you. Do you remember your case against Kyle and Rachel Chance? It was a rape one, compelling prostitution, bunch of other charges involving their two-year-old daughter?”

Twenty-two months.

Diane had told her friends she’d adopted a daughter but hadn’t mentioned Kiley’s connection to the earlier criminal trial.