He glanced left and then right. A dog barked in the cul-de-sac behind them. Her neighbors' back porch lights were out. Curtains were drawn. The lights were already out in most of the windows.

  "She said she saw us at the ribbon cutting at Maria's Place. Saw us together."

  Delilah gave a little laugh. "We talked for about a minute before you sicced those reporters on me."

  He drew his hand across his mouth as if to wipe away his smile. "Sorry. I shouldn't have come by. I just... I knew you hadn't said anything. I guess I just wanted to see you." He met her gaze again, steady this time. "See your pretty face."

  That was sweet of him, Delilah thought. Very sweet. It really was too bad commitment wasn't an option. It was too bad he was her boss. Too bad he was half black and she came from a Southern family still harboring racial issues a century and a half after the Civil War. A crying shame, her granny would say.

  "You should go," Delilah told him softly. "Callie's still up."

  "That mean you're definitely not going to invite me in?" His tone was playful.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. She liked him when he was like that, teasing, good-humored. She didn't see him often enough like that. His life didn't seem to afford it. The man was a serious guy. "No, I'm not inviting you in."

  "And you won't leave your bedroom window unlocked for me?"

  She laughed picturing him climbing over her rhododendron bush in his uniform and hoisting himself through her window. "Go home, Snowden." She turned for the door, then back. "Oh, hey, did you get my message? I left it on your voice mail at work."

  He was already on the sidewalk. He turned back. "What message? I had that thing to do at the Kiwanis Club tonight."

  She nodded. "Right. I forgot. I finally got to talk to the girl who had the party. The party Rob Crane supposedly went to."

  He nodded, giving her his full attention.

  "We were right, of course. Parents were out of town. Underage drinking." She slid her hands into the pockets of her robe. "Anyway. He never showed up."

  "He never went to the party at all?"

  Delilah shook her head. "Nope. The girl was sure. The party was small, in the basement. Low key. No drunken brawls or jumping out the second story window into the pool. Guess that's why the Rehoboth cops were never called."

  He looked down at the sidewalk, then up at her again. His face was cast in shadow. "So where does that leave us with the Rob Crane case, Detective?"

  "It leaves us nowhere, Chief," she answered softly. "We've got a boy who somehow died of thirst and then was thrown in the pond. We've got a possible homicide and no leads."

  * * *

  The Daughter hadn't gotten up that morning planning to choose the next one. It was too soon. She wasn't even sure there would be a next one. If there was going to be, she knew she should wait weeks, months. And then, suddenly she was there. Right in front of her. Like an epiphany.

  No, not like one. It was one.

  When The Daughter had decided that Rob Crane had to die, she hadn't been on any sort of crusade. It had mostly been impulsive. He had angered her. Pretended to be someone he wasn't in the newspapers, on TV, overshadowing Detective Swift. But now, watching the next one, everything seemed to be falling in place in The Daughter's mind. She had never felt as if she fit in anywhere until she had come to Stephen Kill, and she had often wondered why.

  Was this why? Had this been her purpose all along? Had all her past experiences led her to this point in her life?

  It was certainly possible.

  As The Daughter watched her next victim, she felt her cheeks flush and her pulse quicken. Then she consciously reined in her emotions. She couldn't allow herself to think about the pleasure it had given her to hear Rob Crane beg for water. Beg for his life. She couldn't allow herself to wonder if this one would beg, too. That was how people made mistakes. You saw it all the time on the news. People couldn't keep their business to themselves. Couldn't keep their emotions... their desires in check. But not The Daughter. She was smarter than all of them. She didn't think. She didn't feel. She just studied the woman, letting the plan fall into place.

  Chapter 13

  Julie hung up the phone and sat for a moment, her fingers finding the Benedictine crucifix she, like all nuns of her order, wore, even if they set aside their habits.

  How dare she! was her first reaction when the bishop had spoken. How dare she go over my head! How dare she bring negative attention to Maria's Place in the diocese that still did not fully support a project left solely to nuns, especially a nun with such a checkered past as her own.

  But as Julie's fingers rubbed the ridges of her crucifix, she began to calm. She forced herself to calm down and replace her anger with logic. Sister Agatha had not called the bishop out of malice; he had made that clear in their brief conversation. He had said it was only a courtesy call and that he had no true concerns. He knew she and Sister Agatha could work out their differences.

  Sister Agatha had called the bishop because she had believed it was what was best for the girls, Julie told herself. And in all fairness, the sister had first brought her grievances, on more than one occasion in the last few months, to Julie. But Julie had been too busy to really listen to her.

  Or she had merely disagreed and pushed Sister Agatha's concerns aside. Pushed Sister Agatha aside.

  And it wasn't right.

  Still, she wished Sister Agatha hadn't contacted the bishop. She wished Sister Agatha had made it clearer just how upset she was.

  So now what?

  What did she say to Sister Agatha? How could they resolve their differences, as the bishop had assured her he knew they could? Julie obviously had to speak with her. She considered tabling the conversation for a day or two, letting her emotions settle, her thoughts jell, but putting Sister Agatha off had probably caused much of the tension between them in the first place. There was only one thing she really could do.

  Taking a deep breath, Julie rose from the desk chair and walked out of the office and down the hall. She found Sister Agatha sitting at one of the big tables beside Lareina in the family room, reading quietly to her from an old Catechism book.

  It was Julie's belief that young people responded better to some of the newer teaching programs the Catholic Church offered, but it was from Psalms and the word of God was the word of God, she reminded herself.

  When Sister Agatha saw Julie approach, she finished her sentence and looked up.

  "Could I speak with you when you have a minute?" Julie asked, finally releasing her crucifix and tucking it inside the neckline of her Nike T-shirt.

  "Certainly. In the office?" Agatha pulled the corners of her mouth back in a placating smile.

  She knew what this was about. She'd been waiting for the bishop's call. Julie felt her anger heating her cheeks again. "How about out on the back deck?" she countered, strolling toward the French doors. "It's beautiful outside this evening."

  All the girls except for Lareina, who was with Sister Agatha, and Katy, who was lying down with a headache, were gathered around the wide screen TV watching an ancient rerun of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. The girls laughed along with the laugh track and Julie smiled to herself, glad to know they could laugh at such silliness, considering their situations.

  "You wanna watch with us?" Belinda called to Julie, tossing a kernel of popcorn into her mouth. "This is a funny one. Will Smith gets this job, only he's really bad at it. I've seen it before." She dug into a big plastic blue bowl on the couch between her and Tiffany for more popcorn.

  "Maybe in a few minutes." Julie opened the door, stepping out onto the deck and into the warm, humid evening.

  Sister Agatha followed Julie outside a moment later. She closed the door behind her and stood waiting. Julie took her time before she spoke. "Beautiful crescent moon tonight," she remarked, pointing into the dark sky, glad Sister Agatha had not flipped on the deck lights as she usually did. "We should talk to the girls about moon phases. Maybe borrow a telescope."

  "You spoke to the bishop," Sister Agatha said.

  "Yes." Julie continued to study the tiny sliver of moon hanging low on the horizon, just above the treetops of the woods beyond the rear of the property.

  Sister Agatha shifted nervously behind Julie in her squeaky leather shoes.

  "I wish you would have come to me before you spoke to the bishop," Julie said.

  "I didn't speak to him. I sent him an e-mail. The bishop appreciates e-mail. And I warned you several times about this matter before I felt compelled to inform him of the situation."

  "And what is the situation, Sister?" Julie turned to her, hating to abandon the glorious sight of the moon for Sister Agatha's sour face.

  "This home is not being run as it should be. Rules are lax, enforcement even laxer. We're not spending enough time in spiritual training." The nun cupped her hands together as if making a presentation or singing an operetta. "Volunteers are given free rein of the property and the girls, bringing in questionable influences. What we have here is a potential disaster. All the hard work, the dedication to the Lord's work, could all be for nothing if we end up in a lawsuit with one of these girls' parents. You know very well the diocese cannot afford any more lawsuits right now. Not of any nature."

  Julie studied Agatha for a moment. Though it was dark on the deck, light from the TV flashed through the glass, backlighting the nun in her knee-length habit, black stockings, and utilitarian shoes. "The bishop said that you believe you would be better suited to run this house than I am."

  Sister Agatha stood her ground. She hummed under her breath. "I did."

  "How can you say such a thing?" Julie took a step closer. "Sure, I may be a little lax with the girls. I certainly don't always lead by the best example, but I understand these girls in a way you never could. I feel what they're feeling." She pressed her hand to her heart. "I know on a level that you can't possibly what they're going through right now."

  Sister Agatha said nothing.

  Julie crossed her arms over her chest. "Is this about what you overheard that night Amanda and I were talking on the front porch? Is this about me and my worthiness in your eyes?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about. I do not listen in on private conversations."

  "You most certainly do," Julie said curtly, taking another step.

  Sister Agatha slid one foot back, watching Julie. Seeming almost fearful of her, suddenly.

  "You listen in on private conversations," Julie accused. "You don't think I don't see you sneaking around? You think the girls don't see it?"

  "You have no right to make such allegations," Sister Agatha flared.

  Julie nodded. "You're right. I don't. Your indiscretions are between our Lord and you. But what is between you and me is this house. This house that I built." She pointed at the deck, taking yet another step closer. "This house that was my dream. Is my dream. And I won't allow you... I won't allow anyone to come between me and this house. These girls. Do you understand me, Sister Agatha? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  "No," Sister Agatha snapped. "Actually, I don't know what you're saying. Are you threatening me, Sister Julie?"

  "I'm warning you," Julie said softly, looking into her pretty, cold eyes. "I'll try to work on my enforcement of the rules we've set down for the girls. I'm willing to look at any religious curriculum you believe would benefit them. I'm even willing to adjust the weekly schedule to include more religious training, but I will not shut out our volunteers. I will not remove these girls from the love this community has to offer. And you, Sister, you will bring your concerns to me in the future. You will not attempt to usurp my position, not with the girls, not with the community, and certainly not with the bishop. Not ever again, or you, Sister, will find yourself elsewhere, far from Maria's Place and these girls."

  "Is that all, Sister Julie?"

  Agatha's response caught Julie off guard. Julie knew she had stepped over the line and expected Agatha to call her on it. Julie hadn't meant to lose her temper. This wasn't how she had wanted to leave this issue between them. She didn't want to be a bully.

  But maybe it was better this way. If this was what it took to protect her girls. To protect this house.

  "Yes. That's all," Julie said softly. Then she turned to see the moon again, her back to Agatha, so that the nun did not see the tears that welled in her eyes.

  * * *

  "Hi, honey, sorry I'm so late." Charlie leaned over Jenny's shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. "Had a heat pump that just wouldn't play right."

  "That's okay. Kids and I had a nice evening. We rode bikes down to Mom and Dad's for homemade ice cream. We worked on plans for the picnic on the Fourth. We're taking potato salad and shish kabobs. Daddy says for you to bring your lucky horseshoes." She closed the women's magazine she'd been reading and rose from the kitchen table as he sat down in his chair. "CJ fell asleep on the bike on the way home. I put him to bed with chocolate ice cream still smeared all over his face." She laughed as she took the plate of baked ziti from the refrigerator and popped it in the microwave. While it hummed and spun, she removed a cereal bowl of salad from the fridge, drizzled a little dressing on it, and carried it to the table.

  "Thanks, hon. Hear anything else from that reporter?" Charlie leaned over to remove his steel-toed work boots.

  "Nah. It's only been a few days. She said she'd call if she had any more questions."

  "So is she coming back with the cameras and everything? Are you going to be on TV?"

  The microwave beeped and Jenny pulled out the plate, gingerly removing the plastic wrap, trying to keep from getting burned by the steam. "Who knows? She was a little weird." She carried the plate to him, setting it down on the placemat where she'd left a fork and knife and napkin. "I told you, she didn't really seem to be all that interested in what I had to say."

  "Well, I'm interested in what you have to say." He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his lap.

  Jenny laughed and pretended to want to get away, but she didn't really want to. It was just in fun. She threw her arms around him and gave him a big smack on the mouth. "Eat." She got up. "Want iced tea or water?"

  He slid up to the table. "Water's fine. What smells good in here beside the ziti?"

  "Banana nut crunch muffins. I had some squishy bananas." She dropped ice into a glass and walked to the sink. "I hated to see them go to waste."

  "I get any of these muffins or are they all for the pregnant girls?"

  She eyed him. "Not like you need more muffins, buster."

  He patted his stomach and then stuffed a forkful of ziti into his mouth. "Great, honey. But you already knew that. I swear, you've got to be the best cook in town."

  She carried the water to him. "I left some muffins in the breadbox. I was thinking I might run the others over to Maria's Place, if you don't mind."

  "Now?" He glanced at the clock on the wall that was shaped like an apple. "You sure? You don't want me to run them over in the morning?"

  "Nah, I thought it would be nice if they were there for breakfast tomorrow. You have to get up early enough as it is." She drew her hand across his shoulder. "You sure you don't mind? I won't be gone long."

  "'Course not." He took another bite. "I'll wait up. You wake me up if I fall asleep on the couch?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  "You bet." She grinned, grabbing the cardboard box covered with plastic wrap sitting on the counter. It was one of those that cases of soda or beer came in and it was perfect for transporting muffins and cupcakes. A nice man at the local liquor store up the block always saved them for her. Jenny took him muffins or cookies in exchange.

  "Don't forget your keys," Charlie called as Jenny sailed out the back door.

  She stepped back through the door, grabbed her keys and purse off the counter, and headed out again. "Be right back."

  * * *

  Jenny didn't run into anyone at Maria's Place, but the back door was still open and the lights were still on in the kitchen. She left the box of muffins on the counter, without a note, as she often did, and then headed back out into the dark driveway. As she climbed into her mini-van, her flip-flop caught on something and she looked down. When she looked up, someone was standing right next to the open door.

  "Oh, hi." Jenny pressed her hand to her pounding heart. "You scared me. I didn't see you."

  "I was wondering. Could you give me a ride into town?"

  Jenny looked at her. At the house. She thought she saw someone pass by the kitchen window. "Sure. I... I guess so," she said, a little surprised by the request.

  It was so easy that The Daughter almost laughed out loud. Jenny Grove never saw her coming until it was too late. Even when The Daughter startled her, even when Jenny seemed to know it was odd to be asking for a ride into town at this time of night, the woman never suspected a thing.

  The Daughter chatted with Jenny all the way into town. Asked her about her kids. About her husband. The Daughter complimented her on her baking. Asked about her vacation plans now that school was out and she wouldn't be teaching preschool again until September. The young woman was so gullible. So... nice. It would be hard for many people to believe she was a monster. A fact The Daughter knew to be a fact.

  "I'm sorry. Where did you say I was taking you?" Jenny asked as they entered the city limits and slowed down to the posted twenty-five miles per hour.

  The Daughter named a garage off Main Street that she knew had an unlit parking lot. It would make the whole process more efficient. Even though The Daughter already had a complete explanation of why she needed a ride to the garage, Jenny was polite; she didn't even ask.

  The Daughter had contemplated several ways to subdue the woman who made cupcakes, taught preschool, and pretended to be a good person, but in the end, she just went with simplicity.

  "Could you wait a sec?" The Daughter asked, climbing out of the minivan. "It's so dark out here."

  "Sure." Jenny put the minivan in neutral.

  Getting out of the vehicle, The Daughter pretended to trip. "Oh," she cried, dropping her bag as she went down on both knees.

 

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