Page 21 of Bad Mother

“Exactly. Anyway, I’ll run him, and then we can bring him in and see what he has to say. What were you calling me about?”

She focused back on where she was, what had occurred in the last hour or so. “I have an address we need to check out. I have no idea what to expect, if anything. Can I explain when I pick you up?”

“Sure, that’s fine. See you soon.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I don’t even know what to think about this,” Kat said after Sienna explained how she and Gavin had arrived back at Reva Keeling’s house and pried apart a tennis ball that was apparently a prop left by the person she could only assume was the killer.

“I don’t either,” Sienna muttered, turning left where the female computerized GPS voice instructed her to. They pulled into a block of clearly abandoned houses and empty lots littered with garbage and likely used syringes. She spotted a mattress in one of the yards and looked away, choosing not to note the details of what was certainly a stained, infested health hazard.

“I’m glad we asked Gavin to consult,” Kat said, her gaze focused out the window. “How are you feeling about that?”

“It’s been fine,” Sienna said. And that was true. Sure, his presence prompted memories to surface that hadn’t in a long time, but she was a professional, and, per usual, when she was focused on solving a case, it tended to completely preoccupy her mind. Which was a gift and, according to Brandon, an annoyance. “And I never would have caught that phrase as relating to cards in any way,” she said, voicing the thought she’d had earlier.

If Gavin hadn’t recognized that particular wording, she wouldn’t have pictured the random tennis ball... likely the apartment would have been bagged up, trash taken to the dump, and the clue wouldhave been lost forever. She was still shocked about that. It was both eerie and confounding that the killer had placed it there for them to find.Specifically, me.

Sienna came to a stop in front of a dilapidated house, half the roof caving in and the front porch sagging. It appeared that the lawn had once featured desert landscaping—rocks and cacti—but now was weedy and trash strewn, the cacti nothing more than shriveled husks. Which went to show that sometimes even that which was right where it belonged withered with neglect.

Kat and Sienna got out of the car, squinting at the house for a moment, the lowering sun creating a molten halo. The juxtaposition was beautifully brutal, and Sienna got that strange tingle down her spine again as though someone was watching them. She looked around, but all was quiet and still. If people used this place, they did so once the sun went down and they could operate under the cover of darkness.

They both donned gloves and then made their way up the cracked pathway to the door, testing the portion of porch that looked stable before putting their full collective weight on it. The window to the side of the entry was open a quarter of an inch or so, and when Sienna looked at the door, it appeared the knob was new.

“Someone accessed the house and changed the front door hardware,” Kat murmured, obviously noticing the same thing Sienna just had.

She held up the key she’d taken from the tennis ball and inserted it in the lock. It worked, as she’d somehow known it would, and she met Kat’s gaze as the door swung open on a loud squeak. The person who’d led them here had installed new hardware, ensuring the key would fit this lock. The skin on the back of her neck crawled, and she looked behind herself. Wouldn’t someone who had gone to so much trouble want to see his game play out? There was no movement anywhere, though, and few places within viewing distance to hide.

Kat called inside, “Reno PD. Anyone here?” They paused and listened, but no sound emerged, and so they both entered, Kat sweeping the entryway, Sienna behind her.

Kat called into the house again, but once more, all was still. There were shafts of light streaming through the uncovered windows, and surprisingly, although old and in need of about a thousand repairs, the place was free of garbage, and the structure and walls were intact, no spray paint in sight.

Perhaps the sagging roof and porch were a deterrent to those who might use the property unlawfully, when there were other abandoned homes nearby that didn’t look as if they might cave in at any moment.

They went from room to room, clearing the whole house, and ended up in the kitchen at the back. The tile floor was grimy but free of cracks, only one brown cabinet door hanging askew. The busy floral wallpaper was peeling, one whole sheet slumped halfway over like a garishly dressed woman who’d fallen asleep while still on her feet but hadn’t yet hit the floor.

Sienna opened a cabinet, the smell of musty captive air making her wince. Next to her, Kat was doing the same but was wise enough to stand at an arm’s length as she did so. Sienna learned from her mistake and stood back as she pulled a drawer open and then another. In the bottom was an ancient-looking first aid kit. Sienna picked it up and snapped it open, but all that was inside was a bottle corroded with rust-colored liquid. She didn’t imagine it was a clue—it looked like it’d been there as long as the house—but she’d make sure the criminalists gathered it anyway.

The other cabinets and drawers were empty. “Oh,” Sienna breathed right after she’d opened the door to an old pantry. Kat stepped over, coming to stand next to her, and together, they peered at another piece of handwritten note, pinned to the inside of the door the way an old recipe might be. Sienna’s heart picked up speed at the sight of the familiar penmanship.

She looked over her shoulder, and Kat whispered, “Did you hear something?”

Sienna shook her head. “No. It’s just creepy as hell. He’s leading us around, Kat.”

She nodded once, picking up the note and depositing it into an evidence bag. “Let’s get out of here,” Kat suggested. “We can read this at the station.”

“I agree. And we’ll get a criminalist out here for a quick once-over.” She had a feeling this guy was smart enough to wear gloves, but maybe they’d find a shoe print or a hair... something. Sienna felttargeted, and it was extremely off-putting.

They were back in the car a few minutes later and entering the station thirty minutes after that. Ingrid was out of her office, and so they used that room to spread the note out beneath the copy of the first. Sienna refreshed her memory with the final lines of the previous note and was suddenly back in the kitchen, where she pictured “Father” bound to a chair, a gag in his mouth. “Mother” had challenged “Father” to a game of seven-card stud, and Sienna had the distinct impression he was about to lose.

Father’s eyes continued to convey a mixture of rage and confusion. He didn’t know about the cards. Mother and I never played games while he was home, and I kept the boards and the puzzles and the decks of cards in the back of my closet under a loose board. The uncertainty in his gaze overtook the anger when my mother placed two cards down in front of him and herself in rotation.

She stared at my father, seeming emotionless, though I saw the flicker of fire in her gaze because I knew her better than anyone. Mother always played her emotions close to the vest, unlike me, who foundit difficult to contain my feelings. “I like that word,” she said to my father. “Stud.Do you like that word, Roger? No, of course you don’t.” Her lips tipped devilishly, and she raised her pinkie finger, wiggling it. My face burned at her insinuation. “It mocks you, doesn’t it, Roger?” She clicked her tongue. “Poor pencil-dick Roger. No stud at all. Not even close.”

Beneath his gag, my father let out a growl of anger.

“Danny, your father’s hands are unavailable at the moment, so you’ll need to handle the cards for him.” I was slightly unnerved to get so close to Father, but Mother gave me a reassuring nod, and so I moved in close. “Those are your hole cards, Roger,” Mother explained. “I realize you’re at a disadvantage when it comes to cards. It irks you, doesn’t it? But that’s the way of life, right, Danny Boy?”

“Yes, Mother.”

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