"Did she say where she was going?"
"Uh-huh. Can I have some juice?"
"Honey, did your mother say where she was going?"
"Bawden."
"Boston, I know. But where?"
"Uh-huh. Juice?"
"Sure. We'll get some Ocean Spray in a minute. Where in Boston?"
"Grandma's house."
"Where is your grandmother's house?"
"Bowden. I want some juice."
"Honey, what's your mother's name?"
"Mommy." The little girl started to squirm.
"No, I mean her last name?"
"Mommy. I want some juice!"
Rune said, "Did she say anything before she left?"
Courtney stood up in bed, pulled away from Rune. "Zoo."
"The zoo?"
"She said you'd take me to the zoo."
"That's what your mommy said?"
"Uh-huh. I want juice!"
"Did she say how long she'd be gone?"
Courtney frowned for a moment then extended her arms as wide as they'd go. She said, "Long, long time."
Rune picked up the stuffed rabbit. Oh, shit.
Courtney stuck her lower lip out threateningly and said, "Juice."
SAM HEALY WAS IN HIS LATE THIRTIES, OVER SIX FEET tall and lean. His thinning hair was combed straight back and his moustache drooped over the corners of his mouth. He resembled a cowboy, at least when he was wearing what he now wore--a plaid shirt, jeans and black boots. His profession: a detective with the NYPD Bomb Squad.
They sat in Rune's houseboat, where he spent an occasional night, and she leaned forward, listening to him as intensely as if he were telling a rookie how to dismantle a C-4 demolition charge. She asked, "How often should I feed her?"
Healy said, "You're too nervous about this, Rune. Three times a day'll work fine."
"How about medicine?" Rune's palms were glistening with sweat. "Should she be taking medicine?"
"Well, is she sick?"
"No."