How was he going to look her in the eyes and force those words past his lips?

But she had to know. She had a right to know. Because she'd asked him to learn whatever he could about the man bedding her daughter, and this was what he'd discovered.

Jack decided then that he wanted—needed—to get this over with, to remove this burden of truth and send it home. Tonight.

"Maybe I've found that way."

Eagerness crowded her words. "You have? What? What?"

"It's not for the phone."

"Come on, Jack. Please?"

"Trust me." He thought of the copies of Levy's printouts in his pocket. "This needs show as well as tell."

"Okay, then. I'm about an hour from home. Where can we meet?"

"Your place is as good as any."

"But I thought you didn't want to be seen with me."

"He's on to me, so it doesn't matter anymore."

"I can be there in an hour—maybe less if I hurry."

Jack had reached the end of the bridge and began looking for a way to get back on the Queens-bound lanes.

"All right. I'm on my way."

"Hurry. I can't wait."

Yes, you can, he thought. You'll wish you'd waited forever.

17

It didn't take long for Dawn to fall asleep. Jeremy listened to her slow, even breathing for about ten minutes, then got up and limped out to the living room to find her phone.

Time to call Moonglow again.

If she was home, he'd just wasted a roofie on Dawn. Even if not, this still might turn out to be a waste.

He hit REDIAL for maybe the sixth time tonight—every time Dawn had left the room. And this time turned out the same as the others: no answer.

Excellent.

He went back into the bedroom and gave her a nudge. She didn't stir. Not even a little.

Double excellent.

Earlier he'd gone into the bathroom and dissolved one of the olive-green roofies in some hot water in a medicine cup. When he'd sent Dawn back for the ice cubes, he'd poured it into the Diet Pepsi. Odorless, tasteless, she hadn't a clue…

She'd be out till morning.

His only worry was whether or not the roofie would hurt the baby. He couldn't see how one milligram could matter.

Now… to Moonglow's place.

He slipped out, taking a pair of winter gloves plus Dawn's phone and keys. He took her SUV—no way he'd be able to bend his swollen knee far enough to get into the Miata. Damn good thing it was his left knee too—he'd never be able to drive if it was the right. He dashed to the Home Depot where he bought a cheap utility knife, all razorbladed up and ready to use.

When he reached Moonglow's he called again. Still no answer.

He parked down the street and limped back in the dark. He made a circuit of the outside of the house and found no sign of anyone home. So he pulled on his gloves and let himself in with Dawn's house key. Easing the door closed behind him, he stood listening.

All quiet.

He went straight to the kitchen and opened the fridge where he found the ever-present bottle of Diet Pepsi. Like mother, like daughter. This one was two-thirds full. Moving quickly—she might pull into the driveway any minute—he emptied it until only eight ounces or so remained. A single glass.

Even though the kitchen faced the backyard, he didn't want to risk putting on the lights. So, using the open fridge to show the way, he took a disposable plastic cup and crushed eight roofies in it with a spoon. He dissolved the powder in an ounce of warm water, then poured the solution into the Pepsi.

As he was swirling the bottle he heard a hum. He stopped and listened, then realized it was the garage door opener.

Shit!

Moving as fast as he dared or could, he stowed the Pepsi back in the refrigerator, then rinsed the spoon and dropped it into its drawer. After crumpling the plastic cup, he shoved it into his pocket as he hopped-limped for the back door. He eased it closed behind him and found a dark corner of the backyard that allowed a good view of the kitchen.

Lights went on as Moonglow crossed the dining room and disappeared.

Where'd she go? Not straight to bed, he hoped. Too early. Maybe the bathroom?

After a couple of minutes she reappeared and he pumped a fist as she went straight to the fridge and pulled out the Diet Pepsi. He tensed as she paused and held up the bottle. Had he left any sediment? No. The roofies had been completely dissolved when he'd poured in the solution. She must be thinking she'd left more in the bottle.

She shrugged and emptied the bottle into a glass, took a long gulp, then carried the rest to somewhere else in the house.

Yes!

He'd give it time to work before he got down to business.

And then it would be bye-bye Moonglow.

18

"Come on.!"

Jack sat behind the wheel and fumed. Traffic had come to a standstill, leaving him trapped on the eastbound LIE between Mount Zion Cemetery and Maspeth. He'd passed this way just an hour ago traveling west and everything had been fine. Had to be an accident.

And then he heard sirens and saw flashing lights in his rearview mirror. A cop cruiser and an ambulance passed him on the shoulder.

Swell. An accident with injuries.

He turned off his car and reached for his phone. Better call Christy and tell her he'd be late. Just what he wanted to do: Draw this out.

No answer. Probably taking a shower, something he wished he were doing.

He plugged his iPod into the radio, selected shuffle, and let her rip. Nils-son's voice filled the car. Vicky's favorite viewing these days was a DVD of the old TV special, The Point, and Jack had become a fan of the sound track.

"This is the town and these are the people …"

19

Jeremy heard Moonglow's phone start to ring. He knew from his multiple calls tonight that her voice mail picked up after the fourth. He counted four rings.

Time to check her out.

He limped up to the dining room window and peeked in. Empty. But it of-lered a line ol sight into the living room at the Iront ol the house, and there he spotted her, sprawled on the couch.

Excellent.

He let himself in and made his way to where she lay with her eyes closed and mouth open. He nudged her.

Nothing.

Nudged her again—hard.

Nothing. Completely conked out.

Excellent.

He slipped his arms under her and lifted. Groaning with the pain in his knee, he carried her upstairs, stopping ever few steps and leaning against the wall to relieve the weight on his leg. Finally he made it to the master bathroom where he laid her gently in the tub—didn't want any bruises.

As he stepped back to stare at her, she began to snore.

Decision time: clothes on or off? Tough one. Different people did it different ways. Much as he'd love to see her naked again after all these years—what a fine piece of ass she'd been as a teenager—he decided to keep it simple.

Leaving her clothes on, he started the water, nice and warm.

While the tub was filling he returned to the kitchen where he loaded two baggies with ice cubes—Dawn's first aid for his bruises had given him this idea—then limped back upstairs. He arranged Moonglow's arms and hands on the edges of the tub, palms up, then placed an ice bag over each wrist.

During his seemingly endless years at Creighton, Jeremy had devoted a lot of time to planning his own suicide. He'd been sentenced to two consecutive life sentences with no possibility of parole, so he was sure he'd never get out, and just as sure that he'd failed his daddy and the Bloodline. So what was the point of living—especially if it meant spending another thirty or forty years like that?

Of course if he'd known he was going to be let out for this drug trial, his attitude would have been different.