Bledsoe had backed his way to the curb, looking distressed. “Is she all right?”

She was still weeping in his arms, and it broke Daniel’s heart. “No, but she will be.”

Dutton, Tuesday, January 30, 6:45 p.m.

A willowy redhead was sitting on Alex’s front porch steps, her head in her hands. The front door stood open and as soon as he got out of the car Daniel could hear the six notes Alex had told him about. Again and again and again.

The redhead lifted her head and Daniel saw a frustrated woman at the edge of control. Then she saw Alex and stood, her eyes focused. “My God. What happened?”

“She’s okay,” Daniel said. He went around the car and helped Alex to her feet. “Come on, Riley.” The hound took a lazy leap to the street.

Alex winced at the music. “She’s still playing?”

The redhead nodded. “Yes.”

“Why not just unplug the organ?” Daniel asked, and the woman gave him a look so filled with ire that he almost stepped back. “Sorry.”

“I tried to unplug the organ,” she said through gritted teeth. “She started to scream. Loudly.” She glared at Alex in helpless frustration. “Somebody called the cops on me.”

“You’re kidding,” Alex said. “Who came?”

“Some deputy named Cowell. He said he’d have to call Social Services if we couldn’t get her to stop screaming, that the neighbors were complaining. I plugged the organ back in until we could decide what to do next. Alex, we may need to sedate her.”

Alex’s shoulders sagged. “Hell. Daniel, my cousin, Dr. Meredith Fallon. Meredith, Agent Daniel Vartanian.” She looked down at her feet. “And Riley.”

Meredith nodded. “I figured that out. Come in, Alex. You look like hell. Please excuse my rudeness, Agent Vartanian. My nerves are running thin.”

The music was already starting to grate on him after only a few minutes. He couldn’t imagine listening to it for hours. He followed them into the bungalow where a little girl with golden curls sat in front of the organ playing the same six notes with one finger. She didn’t act like she even knew they were there.

Alex’s jaw tightened. “This has gone on long enough. We need Hope to talk to us.” Alex walked to the wall and unplugged the organ. Immediately the music ceased and Hope’s head shot up. Her mouth opened and her chest expanded as she dragged in a deep breath, but before she could make a sound, Alex was in her face. “Don’t. Don’t scream.” She put her hands on the little girl’s shoulders. “Look at me, Hope. Now.”

Startled, Hope lifted her face to Alex’s. Beside him, Meredith huffed a frustrated sigh. “ ‘Don’t scream,’ ” she muttered sarcastically. “Wish to hell I’d thought of that.”

“Sshh,” Daniel cautioned.

“I just came from your house, Hope,” Alex said. “Baby, I know what you saw. I know somebody hurt your mommy.”

Meredith stared at Daniel. “She went to the house?” she mouthed, and he nodded.

Hope was staring up at Alex, a tortured look on her little face, but instead of screaming, silent tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“You’re scared,” Alex said. “And so am I. But, Hope, your mommy loves you. You know she does. She never would have left you on purpose.”

Daniel wondered who Alex was trying to convince, herself or Hope. I hate you. I wish you were dead. Whether or not her mother had actually said the words, they were real in Alex’s mind. It was a terrible burden to live with. This he knew.

Tears still streaming down her cheeks, Hope began to rock on the organ bench. Sliding on the bench next to her, Alex pulled Hope into her arms and rocked with her. “Sshh. I’m here. Meredith’s here. We won’t leave you. You’re safe now.”

Riley padded over to where Alex rocked Hope and poked her thigh with his nose.

Alex took Hope’s clenched fist and, spreading the little fingers wide, put Hope’s hand on Riley’s head. Riley gave one of his giant sighs and laid his nose on Hope’s knee. Hope began to pet Riley’s head.

Beside him Meredith Fallon drew a shaky breath. “I hope she doesn’t pet your dog like she colored or played that organ. Riley will be bald by bedtime.”

“We’ll put Rogaine in his dog chow,” Daniel said.

Meredith snorted a laugh that sounded more like a sob. “She went into the house.”

Daniel sighed. “Yes.”

“And you went with her.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Alex, I’m hungry and I have to get out of this house. When I was running this morning I passed a pizza place next to the post office.”

“Presto Pizza?” Daniel asked, surprised.

“You know it?” Meredith asked and he nodded.

“I lived on their pepperoni slices when I was a kid. I didn’t know it was still there.”

“Then that’s where we’re going. Alex, put on some makeup. We’re eating out.”

Alex lifted her face, frowning. “I don’t think so. We’re going to see Sister Anne.”

“We’ll do that after we eat. Hope needs to get out, too. I’ve been treating her with kid gloves, observing her. You made a breakthrough. I don’t want her sliding backward.”

“We still need to eat, Alex,” Daniel said, earning him an appreciative glance from Meredith. “It won’t take long, then we can go to the shelter. Besides, who knows who’ll show up while we’re eating? The guy that tried to run you down had been watching you. If he wasn’t the same person who took Bailey, he may know who did.”

She nodded. “You’re right. And it’s not only Bailey. There are the other women, too. I’m sorry, Daniel. I’m being selfish. I guess I’m not thinking too straight right now.”

“It’s okay. You’ve had kind of a busy day.” And because she looked like she needed it, he went to her and pulled her into his arms. She rested her cheek against his chest and he realized he’d needed this, too. “Go on, change your clothes.” He looked down at Hope, who was still stroking Riley’s head. Riley gave him a soulful look and Daniel chuckled. “Hurry, before poor Riley needs a toupee.”

Tuesday, January 30, 7:00 p.m.

He gripped the steering wheel, glancing up at his rearview mirror. He licked his lips nervously. It was still there. The car had been tailing him since he’d hit US-19.

Rhett Porter had no idea where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away. Get away. He was a marked man. He’d known it as soon as he’d heard his friend say “Nothing” with such contempt. His friend. Ha. One hell of a friend, dropping him like a hot potato as soon as things got rough.

He’d get away. He knew things. Things any upstanding district attorney would want to know. Would pay to know. He’d take his payment in the form of witness protection.

He’d move to the middle of nowhere, lose his drawl. Disappear.

He heard the rev of the engine behind him a moment before he felt the jolt. The steering wheel wrenched from his hands as the tires slipped off the edge of the road. He fought for control, but it was too late. He saw the road drop away. Saw the rush of trees past his windows. Heard the crunch of metal against wood.

Felt the crushing blow to his skull, the piercing pain in his chest, the dizziness as his car began to roll. He smelled the iron odor of blood. His own blood. I’m bleeding.

When the world stopped moving, he looked up, dazed. He was hanging upside down, still strapped to his seat. He heard footsteps, saw knees as someone crouched to look into the wreckage that had been his car. His hope died when eyes he knew and had once trusted stared at him through the splintered glass of his windshield.

Still he tried. “Help me,” he moaned.

The eyes rolled. “You would have to wear a seat belt. You can’t even die right.”

The eyes disappeared. The footsteps retreated, then returned.

“Help me. Please.”

“You’re a fuck-up, Porter.” He pushed the broken glass aside with his elbow, reached in, and took the keys from his ignition. A moment later, the keys were returned. One key, Rhett knew, would be missing. He almost smiled, wishing he could be there to see their stunned reactions when they saw what it unlocked.