Dance wasn't sure about this at all. But she absolutely couldn't let the girl live with the terrible burden of her guilt. "Yeah."
Theresa calmed at this tentative comfort. "Stupid." She was embarrassed. "It's all so stupid. I wanted to come help you catch him. And I haven't done anything except act like a baby."
"Oh, we're doing fine," Dance said with significance, reflecting some intriguing thoughts she'd just had.
"We are?"
"Yep . . . In fact, I've just thought of some more questions. I hope you're up for them." Dance's stomach gave a peculiar, and opportune, growl just at that moment. They both laughed, and the agent added, "Provided there're two Frappuccinos and a cookie or two in the near future."
Theresa wiped her eyes. "I could go for that, yeah."
Dance called Rey Carraneo and set him on the mission of collaring some sustenance from Starbucks. She then made another call. This one was to TJ, telling him to remain in the office; she believed there'd be a change of plans.
A to B to X . . .
Chapter 48
Parked up the road from the Point Lobos Inn, out of sight of the guards, Daniel Pell continued to stare at a space between the cypress trees. "Come on," he muttered.
And then, just a few seconds later, there she was, Rebecca, hurrying through the bushes with her backpack. She climbed into the car and kissed him firmly.
She sat back. "Shitty weather," she said, grinned and kissed him again. "Sorry I'm late."
"Nobody saw you?"
A laugh. "Climbed out the window. They think I went to bed early."
He put the car in gear and they started up the highway.
This was Daniel Pell's last night in the Monterey Peninsula--and, in a way, his last night on earth. Later, they'd steal another car--an SUV or truck--and head north, winding along the increasingly narrow and rugged roads of Northern California until they came to Pell's mountain property. He'd be king of the mountain, king of a new Family, not answering to anybody, no one to interfere. No one to challenge him. A dozen young people, two dozen, seduced by the Pied Piper.
Heaven . . .
But first his mission here. He had to make certain his future was guaranteed.
Pell handed her the map of Monterey County. She opened a slip of paper and read the street and number as she studied the map. "It's not too far. Shouldn't take us more than fifteen minutes."
*
Edie Dance glanced out the window of the front of her house and observed the police car.
It certainly made her feel comfortable, with an escaped killer somewhere in the area, and she appreciated the fact that Katie was looking out for them.
Still, it wasn't Daniel Pell who occupied her thoughts, but Juan Millar.
Edie was tired, the old bones not behaving, and she was grateful she'd decided not to work overtime--it was always available for any nurse who wanted it. Death and taxes weren't the only certain aspects of life; the need for health care was a third, and Edie Dance would have a career for as long as she wished, anywhere she wished. She couldn't understand her husband's preference for marine, over human, life. People were so fascinating, helping them, reassuring them, taking away their pain.
Kill me . . .
Stuart would be back with the children soon. She loved her grandchildren, of course, but she also truly enjoyed their company. Edie knew how lucky she was that Katie lived nearby; so many of her friends had children hundreds, even thousands, of miles away.
Yes, she was happy Wes and Mags were staying here, but she'd be a lot happier when that terrible man was arrested again and thrown back in jail. Katie's becoming a CBI agent had always bothered her a lot--Stu actually seemed pleased, which irritated her all the more. Edie Dance would never suggest a woman give up a career--she'd worked all her life--but, my God, carrying around a gun and arresting murderers and drug dealers?
Edie would never say it, but her secret desire was that her daughter would meet another man, remarry and abandon police work. Katie had been a successful jury consultant. Why not go back to that? And she and Martine Christensen had that wonderful website, which actually made a little money. If the women devoted themselves to it full-time, think how successful it could be.
Edie had loved her son-in-law dearly. Bill Swenson was sweet, funny, a great father. And the accident that had taken his life was a true tragedy. But that was several years ago. Now it was time for her daughter to move on.
Too bad Michael O'Neil wasn't available; he and Katie were a perfect match (Edie couldn't see why on earth he was with that prima donna Anne, who seemed to treat her children like Christmas decorations and cared more about her gallery than her home). Then that FBI agent at Stu's party, Winston Kellogg, seemed pretty nice too. He reminded Edie of Bill. And then there was Brian Gunderson, the man Katie'd dated recently.