The Sleeping Doll (Kathryn Dance 1)

"Rebecca?"

"Yes."

"Are the others okay?"

"They're fine. Linda said Rebecca wasn't feeling well, went to lie down. Didn't want to be disturbed. We found her bedroom window open but her car's still at CBI."

"So Pell picked her up?"

"I'm guessing."

"How long ago?"

"She went to bed an hour ago. They don't know when she slipped out."

If Rebecca had wanted to hurt the other women, she could've done it herself or snuck Pell in through the window. Dance decided they weren't at immediate risk, especially with the guards.

"Where are you now?" she asked Kellogg.

"Going back to CBI. I think Pell and Rebecca are making a run for it. I'll talk to Michael about getting roadblocks set up again."

When they hung up, she called Morton Nagle.

"Hello?" he answered.

"It's Kathryn. Listen, Rebecca's with Pell."

"What? He kidnapped her?"

"They're working together. She was behind the escape."

"No!"

"They might be headed out of town but there's a chance you're in danger."

"Me?"

"Lock your doors. Don't let anybody in. We're on our way. I'll be there in five minutes."

It took them closer to ten, even with TJ's aggressive--he called it "assertive"--driving; the roads were crowded with tourists getting an early start on the weekend. They skidded to a stop in front of the house and walked to the front door. Dance knocked. The writer answered a moment later. He glanced past her at TJ, then scanned the street. The agents stepped inside.

Nagle closed the door. His shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry." The writer's voice broke. "He told me if I gave anything away on the phone, he'd kill my family. I'm so sorry."

Daniel Pell, standing behind the door, touched the back of her head with a pistol.

Chapter 49

"It's my friend. The cat to my mouse. With the funny name. Kathryn Dance . . ."

Nagle continued, "When you phoned, your number came up on caller ID. He made me tell him who it was. I had to say everything was fine. I didn't want to. But my children. I--"

"It's all right--" she began.

"Shhhhh, Mr. Writer and Ms. Interrogator. Shush."

In the bedroom to the left, Dance could see Nagle's family lying belly-down on the floor, their hands on top of their heads. His wife, Joan, and the children--teenage Eric and young, round Sonja. Rebecca was sitting on the bed over them, holding a knife. She gazed at Dance without a fleck of emotion.