3rd Degree (Women's Murder Club 3)

Wendy, the au pair, disappeared.

Any moment now, Malcolm would come by. They had agreed not to meet until they were sure she hadn’t been followed. But she needed him. Now that she’d proved what she was made of.

She heard the sound of the front door being rattled. Michelle’s heart jumped.

What if she’d been careless? What if someone had seen her coming back with the kid? What if they were kicking the door down now!

Then Malcolm stepped into the room. “You were expecting cops, weren’t you? I told you they’re stupid!” he said. Michelle ran over to him and jumped into his arms.

“Oh, Mal, we did it. We did it.” She kissed his face about a hundred times. “I did the right thing, didn’t I?” Michelle asked. “I mean, the TV is saying that whoever did this was a monster.”

“I told you, you have to be strong, Michelle.” Mal stroked her hair. “The TV, they’re bought and paid for, just like the rest. But look at you…. You look so different.”

Suddenly, there was a cry from the bedroom. Mal took a gun from his belt. “What the fuck was that?”

She was behind him as he ran into the bedroom. He stared, horrified, at Caitlin.

“Mal, we can keep her, just for a little while. I’ll care for her. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“You dumb twit,” he said, pushing her onto the bed. “Every cop in the city will be looking for this kid.”

She felt herself wheezing now. The way she always did when Mal’s voice got hard. She fumbled around her purse for her inhaler. It was always there. She never went anywhere without it. She’d had it just last night. Where the hell was it now?

“I cared for her, Malcolm,” Michelle said again. “I thought you’d understand….”

Malcolm pushed her face in front of the child. “Yeah, well understand this…. That kid is gone, tomorrow. You make it stop crying. Stick your tits in its mouth, put a fucking pillow over its head. In the morning, the baby’s gone.”

Chapter 16

CHARLES DANKO didn’t believe in taking unnecessary chances; he also resolutely believed that all soldiers were expendable, even himself. He had always preached the gospel: there’s always another soldier.

So he made the call from a pay phone in the Mission District. If the call was interrupted, if the call was discovered, well, so be it.

The phone rang several times before someone picked up at the apartment. He recognized the voice of Michelle, the wonderfully coldhearted au pair. What a performance she’d put on.

“I’m proud of you, Michelle. Please don’t say anything. Just put Malcolm on. You are a hero, though.”

Michelle put the phone down, and Danko had to choke back a laugh at how they obeyed his orders.

It was priceless and it said so much about the human condition. Hell, it might even explain Hitler at Munich.

These were very smart people, most of them with graduate degrees, but they rarely questioned anything he told them.

“Yeah. It’s me.”

He heard Malcolm’s cheerless voice. This boy was brilliant, but he was truly a killer, probably a psychopath; he even scared Danko sometimes.

“Listen to me. I don’t want to stay on too long. I just wanted to give you an update—everything is working beautifully. It couldn’t be better.”

Danko paused for a couple of seconds. “Do it again,” he finally said.

Chapter 17

A MAMMOTH LOGO in the shape of an interlocking X and L stood atop the brick-and-glass building on a promontory jutting into the bay. A nicely dressed receptionist led Jacobi and me to a con

ference room inside. On the paneled walls, articles and magazine covers featuring Morton Lightower’s glowing face ran the length of the room. One Forbes cover asked, CAN ANYONE IN SILICON VALLEY STOP THIS MAN?

“Just what does this company do?” I asked Jacobi.