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  Then her body jerked as another loud crunch sounded through the grove of dead women, and Carlotta pitched to the side to lie right next to Erin, her eyes staring at her long-lost sibling, the light slowly fading from them.

  Carlotta’s mouth tried to make words, but they did not come. Whatever she tried to say to Erin at that moment went with her to her grave.

  Erin looked up. Isabel Morales, the world’s most famous entertainer, stood there naked, a bloody claw hammer gripped in both hands.

  “I-I killed her,” she said, her voice coming out small, childlike.

  Erin picked herself up, too stunned to speak. Isabel looked all around her at the dead women wrapped around the trees, then suddenly fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

  Erin’s gaze jerked in the direction of the house.

  “Eddie!” Erin shouted, and sprinted back to the house.

  Chapter 21

  Eddie lay in a huge pool of blood where Erin had left him in the torture room. The knife handle still protruded from his chest and Erin’s phone was in his hand. He had dialed a number but the screen had gotten so soaked in gore that Erin couldn’t see what it was.

  Eddie’s eyes were closed, his mouth open and slack.

  “Eddie?” Erin said, kneeling down next to him. Blood soaked through her pants to wet her knees but she didn’t notice. “Eddie?”

  Eddie’s eyes fluttered open.

  “I-I’m sorry, Erin.”

  “Don’t speak. The emergency services will be here soon.”

  “I know. I… called an ambulance. For you and Isabel, not for me. Too late for me.”

  Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed for a second, then opened again. He looked down at her injured side, where blood had run down her torn shirt.

  “You’re hurt,” he said.

  “It’s not bad.” Actually it felt like her entire side was on fire.

  “Isabel?”

  “Alive. Carlotta’s dead.”

  A smile spread across Eddie’s face. “Good won. I knew you could do it.”

  “You helped.”

  Eddie coughed and blood bubbled up from between his lips.

  “A feeble attempt at redemption. I’m so sorry, Isabel. For the way I treated you, for the way I lorded it over the other children, for everything. I’m just as bad as Father.”

  Erin took his hand. “You were only a child. It wasn’t your fault.”

  Eddie shook his head. “Once I was an adult I should have resisted, but I was under his power. So was Carlotta, so are you. Maybe you’re strong enough to resist. So sorry I wasn’t.”

  “I forgive you,” Erin said, and she felt like the weight of a lifetime had been lifted from her shoulders.

  Eddie smiled again, coughed more blood, and his face began to slacken.

  “No, wait. Eddie. Hold on just a little longer. They must be coming up the driveway right now!”

  Eddie’s eyes opened again.

  “Erin, listen,” he said, his voice barely audible. “There were other fates, other instructions. Carlotta wasn’t the only one. Some of the children were sent to innocent fates, but there are others you have to watch out for.”

  Eddie’s eyes fluttered again.

  “Who? What are their names?” Erin asked.

  “I… don’t know. Father wouldn’t tell me. He only told me about Carlotta since I had a part to play. I can’t help you, but take care. Forgive me.”

  “I already have, and I do again.”

  “Thank you. It’s more than I deserve. Father didn’t do anything… you… already were a force for… good.”

  Eddie closed his eyes for the final time.

  The police stormed the house two minutes later, the paramedics not far behind. The emergency team tried to revive Eddie while Erin resisted being put in the back of the ambulance. Erin wouldn’t leave his side until they declared him dead.

  As they patched her side and carried her out of the house on a stretcher, Captain Wilson came up beside her. He looked pale, eyes bugging, and Erin knew that he had seen what was in the woods.

  “Congratulations on breaking the case, Mrs. Bond. I’m sorry that I doubted you. Once you’ve recovered I’ll need to ask you some questions.”

  Erin nodded. Yes, there would be many questions, most of them hard to answer.

  The paramedics carried her away as Captain Wilson directed the police officers to fan out across the property to search for more victims. Just as Erin was about to be put into the back of the ambulance, Isabel came up to her. Someone had given her an overcoat that she had wrapped tightly around herself. It was several sizes too big for her and made Isabel look almost like a child.

  “Thank you for saving me,” Isabel said, looking down at her and taking her hand.

  Erin managed a smile. “Actually you saved me.”

  Isabel shook her head. “I wouldn’t be alive right now if you hadn’t come. I’m so sorry about your friend. I don’t know how I can ever repay you. If there’s anything I can do, just name it.”

  Erin tugged on her hand. “Come closer.”

  Isabel bent over Erin until their faces were inches apart.

  “Closer,” Erin said.

  Guessing her intention, Isabel inclined her head so that Erin could whisper in her ear.

  “Never mention what Carlotta and I said to each other. I chased you two into the grove, and we fought. That’s it.”

  “But why?”

  “Promise.”

  “I promise.”

  “I’ll tell you everything,” Erin whispered. “You have a right to know. But you can’t tell anyone, you understand? If you do, I’ll never be able to put my past behind me.”

  Isabel looked her in the eye. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  Erin nodded and the paramedics put her in the back of the ambulance. As it drove down the dirt lane, Erin drifted off to the sound of sirens.

  Captain Wilson didn’t wait long for her to recover. The next morning, after she had been released from the hospital with twenty-three stitches in her side, there was a squad car waiting to pick her up and bring her to his office. The entire hospital had been sealed off so Erin was spared the bother of being swarmed by the mass of reporters that waited just outside the police cordon.

  The police inspector met her at his office along with a couple of the other detectives who had been assigned to the case. Erin got the impression that they had been summoned there as witnesses.

  “Hello, Mrs. Bond. Are you well?” he asked as she came in the room.

  “Ms. Bond, actually. I’ll have a nasty scar but I’ll recover.”

  “I wish you a speedy recovery,” he said, missing the correction. He extended a hand. “Congratulations.”

  She shook it and gingerly lowered herself into the seat one of the assistants offered her. Captain Wilson sat behind his desk. The two assistants remained standing.

  Captain Wilson interlaced his fingers and studied Erin for a moment.

  “There are a number of unanswered questions regarding last night,” he said.

  “I’d like to help clear things up in any way I can,” she replied evasively.

  “First off, who was this Edward Waters guy?”

  “A crank,” Erin said while giving a little shrug. “I attract them sometimes because of the attention the media gave me over my childhood kidnapping. Like I told you before, I didn’t know he had recommended me until Sergio told me, and I only learned that after I had taken the case. Then you guys let me go and he reappeared, offering to help.”

  “So why was he with you at the house?”

  Erin had known this was coming as soon as she had been summoned for this meeting so she had already prepared an answer.

  “He was obsessed with following my career. One of these lonely figures who attaches himself to some public story. He wanted to be a private investigator like me and so he took on the role, a bit like those people who have never been in the army but show up at Veterans’ Day parades wearing a uniform and me
dals. He said he could help me. I tried to brush him off, of course, both because I’d been taken off the case and because I thought he was a nutter. But then he came up with some valuable information.”

  “What was that?” Captain Wilson asked, his voice neutral. Erin wondered if her cock-and-bull story was going to be accepted or laughed at. Lying to a police investigator was illegal, but if she told the truth she’d have to mention the ticklish little detail about breaking into Sergio’s apartment.

  “He had investigated some of the people associated with Isabel and discovered Carlotta’s home phone number. It had a 914 area code, Westchester County. I thought that was fishy because it’s such a rich area.”

  “That’s an unlisted number,” one of the assistants said in an accusatory tone.

  Erin shrugged again. “He claimed he got it from a newspaper reporter”—she was tempted to say it had been Benjamin Bridges, but she was treading on thin enough ice without getting him involved—“who got it from someone close to the case. He wouldn’t say who. I looked the number up on a database I have access to via the United States Association of Professional Investigators and discovered the property sat on a huge plot of land. Realizing that no simple maid could afford such a property, I decided to investigate.”

  Captain Wilson’s eyes narrowed. Erin tensed, hoping the cop wasn’t about to play a trump card and declare that they’d been recognized going into Sergio’s building. That would be impossible to explain. Finally he spoke. “And so you brought this ‘nutter,’ as you call him, along for the ride?”

  “I couldn’t very well go alone. And it’s a good thing I didn’t,” she replied, suddenly getting angry. “You guys took so long to show up that Isabel and I nearly got killed, and Eddie did get killed.”

  “Eddie?” Captain Wilson asked, picking up on the familiar term. “Not Edward?”

  “That’s what he asked me to call him. He was a good man. A bit unstable, a bit obsessed, but he wanted to help. He did help. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. Neither would Isabel.”

  “We would have saved her in time,” Captain Wilson said dismissively. “I just find it a bit odd that one of your fellow Englishmen would come all the way to America to help you in this case and just happen to find the key clue.”

  Erin raised her hands in an exasperated gesture that wasn’t entirely faked. “My case is famous there, not here, although I suppose that’s just changed. I’m actually surprised I haven’t had more obsessed fans and stalkers in my life. My parents certainly have. And he didn’t find the key clue. He didn’t know its significance until I figured it out. The case is solved, Isabel is safe, why can’t you just be happy with that?”

  Captain Wilson gave her a long, searching look. Erin held his gaze. At last he sighed and raised his hands in surrender.

  “If that’s your story, then I guess we’ll just have to accept it. As you say, we got Isabel back, that’s the main thing, and stopped the worst serial killer this state has seen since the Son of Sam. We’ve done some good this week.”

  What do you mean “we”?

  Erin kept her face calm.

  Captain Wilson sat back in his chair and visibly relaxed. Erin knew what was going through his mind. Her story didn’t feel right, and his gut told him there was more to it than Erin was letting on, but the case was broken and he didn’t have to get raked over the coals at any more press conferences. It nettled him that she was going to get a lot of the glory, but at least the whole nightmare was over.

  Until the next nightmare. This man investigated kidnappings in New York City. His job was a series of nightmares. She realized she shouldn’t judge him for wanting a bit of glory every now and then.

  “I hear you have a meeting with Isabel after this,” Captain Wilson said. “Your ride is waiting for you outside. One of my men will show you out the back door through the mess hall. It’s obscured from view from the street by some recycling bins. None of the reporters know about it. There won’t be any of those vultures there.”

  Chapter 22

  Captain Wilson was mistaken.

  Benjamin Bridges, the reporter from the Daily Review, stood just outside the back door, obviously waiting for her. He had interviewed her only a couple of days ago but it seemed like years.

  “Congratulations, Ms. Bond, you’re the hero of the hour,” he said with a fake smile.

  Great, this is the only guy who doesn’t call me “Mrs. Bond,” Erin thought.

  “Hello, Mr. Bridges. Sorry, but I don’t really have time for an interview at the moment,” she said as she pushed past him.

  “Just a few questions,” he said, falling in step beside her and ignoring her brush-off. Despite all the years of being hounded by newspaper and television reporters, Erin had never figured out how to make them go away. She bet Isabel didn’t know either, not that the singer wanted to get rid of them. It must be strange to bask in the limelight. Erin had been trying to avoid it all her life.

  “No time,” she said, picking up the pace.

  Bridges matched it.

  “I did a little digging on Carlotta Sanchez. Didn’t take long to find something interesting.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “She was kidnapped in England around the same time you were, and released a year later, unharmed. Just like you were. Same region too. Home Counties.”

  Erin stopped and stared at him, trying to give him a look of surprise. Bridges cocked his head and gave her a wry smile.

  “Not very convincing, Ms. Bond. You knew, didn’t you? Did you remember her after all these years, or did she tell you? It’s too much of a coincidence. Two identical kidnappings, and decades later the victims meet up in another country on opposite ends of another kidnapping case. In my line of work we don’t believe in coincidences. Certainly not ones as big as this.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Erin replied with a shrug. “I’ve never heard of her before.”

  Bridges studied her.

  “No, perhaps not,” he mused. “She didn’t get nearly as much press as you did. She was a roly-poly little immigrant girl, not a bright-eyed little English lass like you. She didn’t make as good copy. I had our researcher back in London check the Daily Review archives. We covered the original story, of course, but never did a follow-up on her. If we had perhaps I’d be the hero for stopping a serial killer. More’s the pity. I’ve always wanted an award for all my hard work in journalism.”

  “Not sure I’d call what you do ‘journalism’. Actually I’m sure I wouldn’t,” Erin grumbled, walking quickly in the vain hope that he’d go away.

  “Tsk tsk, Ms. Bond. I’m trying to help you,” Bridges said, matching her pace. “Can’t you see that you two were kidnapped by the same man? There might be more victims out there. From what I’ve read in the archives there was a great deal of talk about that at the time. So many children over about a ten-year period disappearing and then reappearing. Not your typical modus operandi. What if they’re all connected? Would you know anything about that? And what about this Edward Waters fellow? Checked on him. He was never kidnapped, but Sergio Cruz let slip that he had fired you because this Waters chap impersonated a private investigator and recommended you for the case. Something’s going on, Ms. Bond, and I’d very much like to write a story on it.”

  Erin tried very hard to control her expression, forcing her face and voice to exude calm, which she didn’t feel, and not loathing, which she most certainly did.

  “I’m sure you would, but the fact of the matter is that I have no idea who Edward Waters was. My impression is that he was some crank who inserted himself into the case. He never told me who he really was, but I do know that I’m grateful for his helping save my life. As for Carlotta, I didn’t know her until I met her during this case.”

  Bridges inclined his head and smiled like he had just heard the most ridiculous statement in the world.

  “If that’s the way you want it to be, Ms. Bond, I guess that’s just the way it’s g
oing to be. But I sense a story, and I’m going to follow it whether you like it or not. The police will too once they investigate Carlotta Sanchez’s background. The American police aren’t so stupid as to miss the connections. Enjoy your laurels—I dare say you’ve earned them—but don’t think for an instant that you’ve seen the last of me.”

  With that Bridges turned on his heel and sauntered away.

  Only Bridges had been canny enough to sneak around to the little-known back entrance to the police station. After he was gone, Erin got onto the street without incident where a cab waited to take her to the offices of Isabel Enterprises. The star had wanted to send her a limo, saying Erin deserved no less, but decided this would attract less notice.

  Isabel knew her business. Just like the police station, the office building was besieged with fans and reporters. Isabel had already had a press conference to reassure the world that she was safe and sound, and the news of the horrible serial killer and her grisly trophies in the middle of one of the East Coast’s most respected zip codes had made international headlines. It was a miracle that the building’s security managed to usher the cab through the crowd.

  Even so, a heaving mob of fans pounded on the window and cheered Erin once they recognized she was the private detective who had broken the case. The cabbie himself said nothing, just cursed under his breath and leaned on the horn as he nudged his way through the throng. He did give Erin a few appreciative glances over his shoulder. Erin guessed he had been paid to keep quiet and not bother her. Erin appreciated Isabel’s thoughtfulness. Neither of them would get much privacy in the coming weeks.

  As the car zoomed into the parking garage, Erin briefly thought of the other kidnapped children that Eddie had said might have evil programming. Surely they would hear the news like everyone else in the world. Had they been programmed to follow her career like Carlotta had been? How many would recognize her name in the headlines? Suddenly Erin felt like a sitting duck.

  A young woman in a business suit waved the cab to stop. As Erin got out, wincing a little from the pain in her bandaged side, the woman introduced herself as Isabel’s assistant. Within a couple of minutes they had taken a private elevator straight to the top floor of the building where Isabel had a large office overlooking New York.