18

Poppy finally heard it on the six o’clock news.

“… And in Falls Church today, a murder mystery. Neighbors on this quiet suburban street called police when they heard shots fired. Inside the house, a dead man. But the as-yet-unidentified victim died of stab wounds. Nearby, in Alexandria…” Somehow, hearing it on the news made it official. Paulie was dead. Poppy started to cry, then caught herself.

“… the as-yet-unidentified man… ?” What about men? She’d left two bodies in that house. Paulie had been stabbed to death, and Mac had a bullet in his brain. How come they were only talking about Paulie?

Unless…

A stab of fear, as sharp as the blade that had killed Paulie, knifed through her.

“Oh, Jesus!” she said aloud and leapt to her feet.

“Can I change the channel now?” Katie said.

“Sure,” Poppy said without looking at her.

She went to the window and peeked around the edge of the curtain. The light drizzle outside made the parking lot shine. The Holiday Inn sign reflected from the wet surface.

A minute ago she’d felt so safe. She’d had everything planned. Tonight she and Katie would get back on Ninety-five, but they would not stop at the Maryland House. She’d copied down the numbers from a couple of the phones there when they’d called Katie’s dad this afternoon.

At nine o’clock sharp she’d place a call to one of those phones, tell her father that he’d find his daughter waiting in the Roy Rogers at the next rest stop up the freeway from the Maryland House. Then she’d leave Katie in a booth with a burger and fries.

If Katie’s dad was like the rest of Mac’s victims, he probably hadn’t said word one about the snatch to the cops. And even if they were involved, they’d all be at the Maryland House. Poppy would be long gone by the time they reached Katie.

Poppy’s heart would be broken but Katie would be safe and at home with her family, where she belonged.

But she wouldn’t be safe if Mac was alive.

Poppy could still see his eyes as he came out of the kitchen with that knife, saying “She saw me!” Only two people could connect Mac with the kidnapping—and Paulie’s murder—and both were in this room.

Even the slightest chance that Mac was still alive changed everything. A whole new game, a completely different world if Mac had survived. But how could he be alive? She’d like shot him in the head. She had to know. Before she made another move, she had to be sure.

She turned to Katie. “I’m gonna run down the hall for like a soda. You want anything?”

“Can I have a Yoo-Hoo?”

“Sure.”

“My daddy never lets me have Yoo-Hoo.”

Her daddy, her daddy. Never her mommy. Poppy forced a smile. “Well, I’m not your daddy. Be right back.”

This was risky, she knew, maybe even stupid, but it couldn’t wait. She dashed through the drizzle to the Shell station on the far side of the parking lot and found the pay phone. A call to information got her the Falls Church Police Department, and pretty soon she was talking to a homicide detective. He kept trying to get her name and she suspected he was trying to like keep her on the phone.

“Look,” she said, “I’ll just say this once: I know the names of the dead guys in the house on Sylmar Street. The stabbed guy was Paulie Dicastro. The shot guy was—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said the cop. “Nobody was shot. We’ve only got one victim.” Oh, no. Oh, sweet Jesus, no! He’s gotta be lying!

“No. You know damn well there were two! All I can tell you about the shot guy is that his name was like Mac and he drove that blue Jeep out front.”

“What blue Jeep? Do you know the tag number?” Poppy hung up. The drizzle had suddenly become freezing and the night much darker. She shivered and looked around, feeling as if someone was watching her.

Mac was alive! But how? She’d seen him lying there on the floor with like a bullet in his head. Somehow he’d survived.

She dashed back across the parking lot, ducked back into the motel room, and locked the door behind her. She saw Katie sitting there on the bed, eyes glued to the TV. How could she send that little girl back to her father with Mac alive and on the prowl? Her father wouldn’t know how to protect her. Mac had known enough about Katie to kidnap her. How much would it take to get a rifle and put a bullet in her the next time she stepped out her front door?

Poppy shuddered. No way Katie could go home tonight. She hoped the information she’d given the Falls Church cops would set them hunting for Mac. But until they caught him, Katie would be safer with her.

Katie looked up. “Didn’t they have any Yoo-Hoo?” Damn! She’d forgotten all about the drinks.

“I didn’t see any. Want me to get you something else?”

“That’s okay. I’ll take my pill with water.” Pill? Oh, Jesus! Do I have her pills?

Poppy ran over to the night stand where she’d left her pocket book and dumped it out on the bed. She had some Valium, her driver’s license, some bills and change—but not Katie’s medicine.

She ran to the closet and yanked Mac’s jacket off the hanger. Maybe she’d stuffed the pill bottle in one of the pockets as she was leaving. She didn’t believe that for a minute but she had to check. She emptied the pockets; Paulie’s wallet, some loose change, and a cassette tape fell out. But no little amber bottle of pills for Katie.

Poppy slumped on the edge of the bed and wrung her hands. In the horror and confusion and panic back at the house, she’d forgot all about the pills.

Jesus, what else could go wrong?

She stood and paced the tiny room. Decision time. She had to get some medicine for Katie. She remembered the name on the bottle: Tegretol 100 mg. If she couldn’t get hold of any, she’d have no choice: Katie would have to go back home. A possible threat from Mac was not as bad as the totally certain threat of fits if she missed a dose or two of those pills.

Poppy had to get hold of some.

But where? How?

She pulled out the phone book and began flipping through the yellow pages.

19

Carlos listened to the distorted voice barking from the receiver.

“What kind of half-assed operation are you running there, Salinas? I just learned that a bottle of pills belonging to the little girl was found in a house in Falls Church where someone was murdered. What the hell is going on?” Carlos stared at the ceiling. Please, God, if you will ever do anything for me, do this for me now.

“One dead man?” Carlos said. “Has he been identified?”

“Yes. They got a tip as to his name and confirmed his prints. A smalltime hood named Paul Dicastro.” Thank you. God, Carlos thought. I will make a large offering to the church.

“No one else? No woman? No child?”

“No sign of anyone else, but they’re looking. Looking hard, because this death is now linked to the other matter. Better clean house, Salinas. And fast.” The line went dead and Salinas hung up. He turned to Gold who was stuffing a valise with papers from a filing cabinet.

“I believe we can relax for a while, Alien.”

“Relax?” Alien said. His face was unusually pale, even for him. “How can I relax?”

“Well, you insisted on knowing about my dealings with MacLaglen, and now you know.” He smiled. “Don’t you feel better?”

When Carlos had thought he would have to flee the country, he’d filled Gold in on the plan to remove Winston. After all. Gold had to know why they were running for the airport.

He did not return Carlos’s smile. “You want to say, ‘I told you so,’ go ahead. But right now, if we don’t get out of here—”

“Be calm. MacLaglen is not dead. He is still alive and free.”

Alien stared at him. “You’re sure of that?”

“My source.” Alien staggered to the nearest chair and dropped into it.

“What a relief! But why doesn’t he call back?”