New York to Dallas (In Death 33)

Darlie took an unsteady breath when her lips trembled. “He didn’t have any clothes on, and when he finished with the tattoo, she started . . .” Darlie’s color came up, rode high on her cheeks. “She started touching him, you know, down there. And he started touching her, but he was watching me. I felt sick, and I closed my eyes because I wanted it to be a bad dream.”

“Is there anything else about the room, or what they talked about?”

“He told her to stop, you know, the touching, and she got mad again. He said it was time for a threesome. Time to set up the camera.”

“Camera?”

“He made her get it out of the closet. It was on a stand, a vid cam on a stand. He made me drink something, and I could move. But my hands. They were tied.” She held her arms up and back. “I screamed. I was crying and trying to get away and she slapped me. Really hard. She told me . . .” Darlie glanced toward the door. “She said, ‘Shut the fuck up.’ But he told her he liked hearing the bad girls scream. And then . . .” Tears flowed again.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to think about that or talk about that, unless you’re ready. Tell me about the camera.”

“Um . . . He had it so he could take a vid of what they were doing. When—when he was—” She shut her eyes, reached up. Understanding, Eve stepped closer, gripped her hand.

“When he was raping me,” Darlie said, eyes still closed, “he told me to scream ‘help,’ to scream, ‘Help me, help me.’ I did, but he didn’t stop. He said to cry, cry, sweetheart, and to scream ‘Dallas’ over and over. I did, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop.”

So, Eve thought, sickened with rage, he’d thought of her when he’d raped Darlie. Even then he’d thought of her.

“Were you ever alone with him? Did the woman ever leave the room?”

“I don’t—yes. I think. It was after the first time, or the second. It gets mixed up.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t think I could scream anymore. It hurt to scream. They were lying on the bed with me. She said she was hungry, and she wanted some candy, so he told her to go help herself. When she went out, he said maybe he’d keep me, his first new bad girl. Maybe he’d take me with him when he was done.”

“Where? Did he tell you where?”

“He wasn’t really talking to me. He was looking up at the ceiling, sort of talking to himself, I think. He said he’d find us another mommy, and we’d live it up for a while with Dallas at our feet. But he missed New York and all the bad girls. Couldn’t wait to go back home.

“Then he turned the camera back on.” Her breath started to hitch. “And he got on me. I could still scream.”

“Give it a rest awhile. You gave me a couple of things I might be able to use to catch him.”

“I did?” Darlie swiped at her cheeks. “Really?”

“What’s the point of telling you if you didn’t?”

“To make me feel better.”

“Hey, you’re getting ice cream. You’re already going to feel better.”

Whether it was surprise or genuine humor, a smile ghosted around Darlie’s lips. “You’re funny.”

“I’m a barrel of monkeys, kid, though mostly I figure monkeys stuck in a barrel are just going to be pissed off.”

The laugh tripped out, a little rusty, a little weak, but it fell into the room just as Darlie’s parents came back in. At the sound of it, Mrs. Morgansten’s eyes filled.

“Good timing.” Eve got to her feet. “We’re just finished here.”

“We got you a cone.” Mr. Morgansten lurched forward, holding out a cone topped with a scoop of chocolate goo.

“Now you’ll feel better, too,” Darlie told her.

“Looks like. Thanks.”

“Lieutenant Dallas?” Darlie took the cone her father gave her, but continued to stare at Eve. “Will you tell me when you catch him and put him back in jail?”

“You’ll be the first. That’s a promise.”