The Sleeping Doll (Kathryn Dance 1)

The woman continued until she was a few feet away.

She took off her sunglasses, revealing a familiar face, though Dance couldn't place it.

"We've never met. But we kind of know each other. I'm Daniel Pell's girlfriend."

"You're--" Dance gasped.

"Jennie Marston."

Dance's hand dropped to her pistol.

But before she touched the weapon's grip, Jennie said, "I want to turn myself in." She held her wrists out, apparently for the handcuffs. A considerate gesture Dance had never seen in all her years as a law-enforcement agent.

*

"I was supposed to kill you."

This news didn't alarm her as much as it might, considering that Daniel Pell was dead, Jennie's hands were cuffed and Dance had found no weapons on her or in the car.

"He gave me a gun, but it's back at the motel. Really, I'd never hurt you."

She didn't seem capable of it, true.

"He said no policeman had ever gotten into his mind like you had. He was afraid of you."

Threats have to be eliminated. . . .

"So he faked your death?"

"He cut me." Jennie showed her a bandage on the back of her head. "Some skin and hair and blood. Your head bleeds a lot." She sighed. "Then he gave me your address and your parents'. I was supposed to kill you. He knew you'd never let him get away."

"You agreed?"

"I didn't really say anything one way or the other." She shook her head. "He was so hard to say no to. . . . He just assumed I would. Because I'd always done what he wanted. He wanted me to kill you and then come live with him and Rebecca in the woods somewhere. We'd start a new Family."

"You knew about Rebecca?"

"He told me." In a wisp of a voice: "Did she write the emails to me? Pretending to be him?"

"Yes."

Her lips pressed together tightly. "They didn't sound like the way he talked. I thought somebody else wrote them. But I didn't want to ask. Sometimes you just don't want to know the truth."

Amen, thought Kathryn Dance. "How did you get here? Did you follow me?"

"That's right. I wanted to talk to you in person. I thought if I just turned myself in, they'd take me right to jail. But I had to ask: Were you there when he was shot? Did he say anything?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"Oh. I was just wondering." Her lips tightened, a kinesic clue to remorse. Then a glance at Dance. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I've had worse scares lately," Dance told her. "Why didn't you run, though? Maybe in a few weeks, when your body didn't wash up on shore, we'd've wondered. But you could've gotten to Mexico or Canada by the time we started searching."

"I guess I just got out from underneath his spell. I thought things'd be different with Daniel. I got to know him first--you know, not just the physical stuff--and we developed this real connection. Or I thought it was. But then I figured that was all a lie. Rebecca probably told him everything about me so he could hook me in, you know. Just like my husband and boyfriends. I used to get picked up in bars or at catering jobs. Daniel did the same thing, only he was just a lot smarter about it.

"All my life I thought I needed a man. I'd have this idea I was like a flashlight and men were the batteries. I couldn't shine without one in my life. But then after Daniel was killed I was in this motel room and all of a sudden I felt different. I got mad. It was weird. I could taste it, I was so mad. That, like, never happened to me before. And I knew I had to do something about it. But not moaning about Daniel, not going out and finding a new man. Which I always would do in the past. No, I wanted to do something for me. And what's the best thing I could do? Get arrested." She gave a laugh. "Sounds stupid, but it's all my decision. Nobody else's."

"I think that's a good one."