Page 62 of Bad Mother

I wound my arm back and bounced another checker off her head, hard enough to leave a mark, and she fell back to the floor, reaching up to feel the wound and letting out a sob as tears sprang from her eyes and tracked down her cheeks.

Her tears brought me back to myself, and I hesitated before finally tossing the rest of the checkers aside, my chest rising and falling harshly as I attempted to catch my breath. I watched her for another minute, spread-eagled on the floor, her tiny nipples pointed at the ceiling as she muttered and cried, and I only felt pity for her.

I turned, and I left her there before walking to my car and driving home. When I got inside my house, I poured myself a cold glass of lemonade and then stood at the counter, taking big, thirsty gulps. Iwas shaky, my muscles sore from having held them tightly for so many hours. I pictured Dolly lying helpless and wasted on the floor and felt a small measure of shame, but there was also satisfaction. I’d handled her myself. I’d been myownprotector.

Dolly didn’t show up at her job the next day, or the next. I went home each night, expecting the police to show up at my door, lying in my bed unable to sleep as I memorized the lies I would tell. When Dolly finally returned, she looked mostly back to normal, except for a small red mark on her forehead. I tensed when she walked my way, my pulse jumping, but she gave me a small, embarrassed smile, her eyes shifting away as she said, “I want to apologize for whatever I said or did the other night. I get a little... out of hand when I’ve had a lot to drink.” She met my gaze, her eyes imploring as though she wanted me to reassure her that she hadn’t been that bad or maybe clue her in to what she didn’t remember but maybe suspected. Did she have flashes of me bouncing checkers off her forehead? Was she having trouble making that slip of memory align with who she believed me to be?

But I just stared and finally gave her the barest of smiles. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” I said, walking away. I had an extra spring in my step, however. I was off the hook after days of worrying relentlessly. But I still remembered the feeling of confidence—of power—as I stood above her, making her pay for what she’d done, even if that payment was small and perhaps less than she deserved. Yes, I’d taken care of myself for the first time in my life.

Maybe Mother knew. Perhaps she thought I didn’t need her at all anymore. Maybe it’s why she left. And maybe it’s why I let her go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Sienna tapped her fingers on her desk, glancing at the latest copy of Danny Boy’s writing about Dolly as the phone rang at her ear.

“Professor Vitucci,” came the smooth voice on the other end of the line.

“Professor, hi. This is Sienna Walker, one of the detectives with the Reno PD.”

“Yes, hello, Detective Walker. I saw the news this morning. I hate that I was right about the killer striking again, and sooner rather than later.”

“Me too. I knew it was only a matter of time, though. It’s part of what makes this job so hard.”

“The feeling of powerlessness. I understand.” His voice over the phone was melodic, and she felt immediately at ease. He was a professor of criminology, but she wondered if he had ever worked more hands-on in law enforcement and had to assume he had.

“Yes. I have a couple questions, and I was hoping you had a minute or two to spare?”

“Of course.” She heard a door close. “Go ahead.”

“This most recent victim doesn’t seem to have any form of bad parenting behavior in his past,” she said, referring to Harry Lockheed. “In fact, if anything, the opposite. He was a family man, a coach,upstanding in every way we were able to verify so far. And so my question is, Can our killer still be mission oriented but be focused on adifferentmission than the one we originally outlined?”

“Absolutely,” he said smoothly. “The important thing to note, Detective Walker, is thatsomethingconnects these victims. Something makes these victims abhorrent to our killer.”

Abhorrent.

If they weren’t bad mothers or even bad parents, caregivers, or the like, then what was so detestable about these three—so far—people? “The thread is the difficult part,” Professor Vitucci said. “But thereisa thread. Somehow these three victims cross over.”

Sienna thanked the professor for taking the time to speak with her and hung up before making her way to the meeting room, where she, Ingrid, and Kat had planned to gather to go over the latest murder. Because of this development, the city’s fear and concern were understandably mounting, and the pressure on the police department was increasing by the hour.

Sienna took a seat next to Kat at the table and looked at Ingrid, who stood at the front of the room. She filled them both in on her short call with Professor Vitucci and what he’d said about the victims being abhorrent to their killer in some fashion. Ingrid nodded thoughtfully, using a pin to stick the photo of the close-up face of the corpse of the older man to the board that now held three current victims and one mummified teacher who’d died decades before. All of them were connected somehow—someway—but how?

“Harry Lockheed worked as a floor manager at Circus Circus up until a year ago, when he retired. He’d been in the hospitality industry for thirty-five years. No arrest record, clean driving record, no money issues, no concerning material found on his computer or any of his devices, even though they’ve only been given a precursory look. Basically, so far, nothing points to him being anything other than what he appeared to be.

“He left for the grocery store early yesterday morning, and when he didn’t return after a couple of hours and his wife couldn’t get hold of him, she called us. An officer questioned the grocery store employees, but it didn’t appear he’d ever arrived there. His car was found ditched in a neighborhood bordering his own. His body was found a few hours after that by the man looking for bottles, another of Danny Boy’s notes tucked into his shirt pocket.”

“What’s your take on his latest writing installment?” Sienna asked, bouncing her knee.

Kat chewed on her pen for a moment. “It seems like our Danny Boy discovered his ability to overpower a victim,” she said after a moment. “And liked it.”

Sienna nodded in agreement, picturing Dolly lying on the floor as Danny threw checkers at her. He hadn’t taken that power in a murderous direction. Not then. Not yet. He’d first discovered the feeling with Dolly but had ultimately focused it elsewhere, and they still didn’t know why. What Sienna did sense was that he waspacinghis story in some way she couldn’t understand. He had a full picture, though. She was sure of it.

“The other things he left at the scene are these items,” Ingrid said, bringing three clear evidence bags out and laying them on the table. Sienna leaned forward.

The first was a coupon for a free order of chicken wings from a place called Zero Effs Sports Bar and Grille. Sienna’s brow dipped. “Does this mean anything to either of you?” Both Ingrid and Kat shook their heads.

The second item was a pair of black-and-white dice. Sienna picked the bag up, turning them this way and that. “Did you check if they’re weighted?” she asked, wondering if they consistently rolled to a certain number.

“Yes,” Ingrid said. “They seem like regular dice.”

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