Protector. Part 15

"Footprints," Jane said without flinching. There was no way she was mentioning blood. "They have to match footprints."

"Footprints? Match them from where?"

"The stairs that lead up here. They took some carpet from there, too. They want to see if the footprints they found there are the same as what was in here."

Emily considered the idea and figured it seemed logical. She glanced toward the closet door. "So, they were standing here when I was in there?"

"That's what the cops think."

Emily buried her head in Jane's stomach. "I don't remember anything."

"I told you before, you don't have to remember a thing. How about if we get out of here? What do you say we go downstairs and you flick that little flashlight you've got out the window and see how fast Martha can get her a.s.s in this house?"

Emily threw her arms tightly around Jane's body. "I want to stay with you."

Jane steadied herself as Emily leaned into her body. "Okay. Fine. We'll stay here. Where are your pajamas?"

Emily stayed glued to Jane's body. "In the top drawer over there."

Jane gently peeled Emily off her and motioned to the bed. "Sit there."

Emily sat on the bed as Jane shuffled through the bureau drawer. Upon finding the pajamas, she returned to Emily's side and helped her undress. There was stone silence between the two of them as Jane pulled off Emily's jumper and shirt and dressed her in a matching set of white pajamas, decorated with hundreds of blue and pink stars. When Jane finished, Emily looked up at her. "What if I can't remember ever?"

"You don't have to remember, Emily. Some things in life are better left forgotten. Believe me, kid. That's the G.o.d's truth."

"But I'm already forgetting what Mommy and Daddy look like."

"That's easy to fix. You've got photos of them. There's that photo downstairs on the refrigerator of the three of you. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Emily leaned over to the side table next to her bed and pulled out the overstuffed drawer. "Where's my pack of photos?" Emily said, clearly upset.

"Is that where you left them?"

"Yeah," Emily said, growing more annoyed.

"Well," Jane said, wedging her hand way back in the drawer. "Sometimes when a drawer is overfilled, items on the top can get caught in the back." After a few moments of pulling and readjusting the drawer, Jane withdrew the crumpled photo pack. "Is that what you're looking for?"

"Yes!" Emily exclaimed, holding the packet to her chest. She slid the photos out of the envelope and looked at the top picture. "There they are."

Jane glanced down at the photo. It looked like the same one on the refrigerator. "Keep those pictures with you and you'll never forget them."

Emily stared at the photo, becoming lost in it. "That was a fun day."

"How about if you put that top one right here by your bedside so you can see it when you wake up." Jane started to take the photo off the stack when Emily quickly placed her hand over Jane's hand.

"I can't sleep up here!" Emily said, her voice filled with fear.

"Nothing is going to happen to you. I'll be downstairs."

"Then I want to be downstairs. I want to be with you." Emily grabbed on to Jane's sleeve as if she were drowning and Jane was her life preserver.

"Well, I'm not-"

"Please let me be with you."

Jane realized that Emily was genuinely scared and that the child was not taking "no" for an answer.

Downstairs, Jane fashioned the couch into a bed using sheets and blankets from the hallway closet.

"Hey," Emily said, safely securing the pack of photographs inside the vinyl case that held her Starlight Starbright projector. "It's dark enough to show you my Starlight Starbright. Turn off the lights!" Emily grabbed the case and skipped over to the couch.

Jane went around the room turning off the various table lamps. When she reached the final lamp that sat next to the couch, her eye glimpsed something against the metal side of the lamp's center post. At first Jane thought it was a large black fly. She squinted through the blinding light. It was a bug, alright, but not the insect kind. Jane carefully removed it and recognized it as the kind of apparatus that the police use for surveillance. She handled it very discreetly as she walked across to the front window. Jane could make out Chris sitting in his unmarked car with the interior light on. He was drinking coffee with one hand and holding his earpiece with the other. Jane purposely ran her finger over the bug and watched Chris readjust his earpiece.

A flash of hot anger surged through Jane's system. She turned to Emily and spoke in as calm a voice as she could muster. "I'll be right back."

Emily watched as Jane crept to the front door, opened it quietly and walked outside leaving the door slightly ajar. Emily slunk off the couch the second Jane was out of sight and crossed to the front door, peering outside into the darkness. Jane walked across the lawn, safely hidden in the dark shadows. She brought the tiny microphone bug to her mouth and spoke into it as though she were having a covert conversation. "Okay, Emily, I'm back. Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully. What you just told me upstairs about how you know who killed your mommy and daddy . . ." Jane stopped walking and watched as Chris immediately held his earpiece closer to his head. "I want you to know that's going to be our little secret. No one ever has to know a thing. Especially not my f.u.c.king partner who's sitting across the street and getting a hard-on listening to what we're saying!"

Chris jerked forward and turned toward the house just in time to see Jane bolt across the street and head right to his car.

"Roll down your f.u.c.king window!" Jane screamed. Martha turned around in the other car to see who was yelling. Chris rolled down his car window. "You got a lot of f.u.c.king nerve, cowboy!" Jane screamed at Chris who looked as though he'd been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

"Yeah, well, call that a little insurance!" Chris yelled back.

"Insurance?"

Chris got out of the sedan and stood his ground. "Insurance that I know everything so I can solve this case!"

"Jesus, Chris! You're turning into a paranoid little f.u.c.k!"

"You think I'm paranoid? Well, just because people call you paranoid does not mean other people aren't out to get you!"

"What in the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

"Oh, f.u.c.k, Jane! Do the math! I catch a huge, career-making case that I can solve and then suddenly I'm pushed aside because some kid dictates who she will and will not talk to! Maybe that kind of s.h.i.t doesn't set well with me!"

"She's a kid!" Jane screamed, slapping the roof of the sedan for emphasis. "She's not a f.u.c.king case notch on your belt!"

"And you're gonna make d.a.m.n sure of that! f.u.c.k! Why Weyler ever gave you this case is beyond me! You have zero ability when it comes to dealing with children!"

"Oh, I don't know about that. I thought I'd learned a lot dealing with you!"

"You don't have to be such a f.u.c.king c.u.n.t!"

Jane's eyes filled with rage as she went for Chris. "Stop calling me that!"

Chris grabbed Jane's arms before she could touch him and physically held her back. "I know you and I know what you're up to! You are willing to sabotage this case because you can't handle it! f.u.c.k, Jane, I heard you say it to the kid in there, so don't deny it! You want this case to disappear because you can't wrap your head around it. Well, that doesn't cut it with me! My a.s.s is on the line, not yours! I will not sit back and let you f.u.c.k it up! That kid knows something! She may be in some psychological trance, but with the right prodding, she will wake up. And when that happens, she will tell you what she saw! So I put in a bug in there! So f.u.c.king what! I did that because I want to hear all the s.h.i.t. Not just the s.h.i.t you deem me worthy of hearing! Get it?"

Jane shook off Chris' tight grip and stuck her face inches from his face. "You want to hear all the s.h.i.t?" she said confidentially. "Stick this bug up your a.s.s and you'll hear more than enough!" With that, Jane threw the bug into Chris' car, turned on her heels and headed back to the house.

Martha popped out of her car and called out to Jane. "Is everything all right?"

Jane never turned around as she yelled, "f.u.c.k off!" She reached the front door and found Emily standing on the outside front porch. "Hey! What did I tell you about going outside?" Jane's voice was edged with fury.

"I just-"

"Just nothing! Get your b.u.t.t back in there!"

Emily quickly turned around and went inside. Jane stood on the front landing and looked back at Chris. He was still glaring at her, p.i.s.sed off that she got in the last word. Jane walked into the house, slamming the door behind her. She stood in the entry hall, arms folded across her chest, trying her best to cool down.

Emily was propped up on the couch, her Starlight Starbright at the ready. "Why was that man yelling at you?"

"Did I not specifically tell you to stay in this house?"

"Yes," Emily said softly.

"Then what the h.e.l.l were you doing on the front porch?"

"He was yelling at you and I was worried-"

"That is not an excuse! I told you to stay inside and I mean it!" Jane stood still, saying nothing, her arms still tight across her chest. All she could really think about was the in-your-face, brazen nerve it took for Chris to plant that bug in the house.

"I'm sorry I went outside," Emily said without hesitating. Jane, still seething, turned away. "Don't cut me off."

"Cut you off?" Jane said, not understanding the child.

"You got your arms crossed. You're building a wall."

Jane looked at Emily, partly in amazement and partly in exasperation. She relaxed her arms, sauntered into the living room and pulled the drapes across the front window. "What's rule number one?"

"Don't ha.s.sle you about smoking," Emily said, without missing a beat.

Jane pulled out her Glock, crossed to the coffee table and set the gun down before removing her shoulder holster. "What's rule number two?"

"Don't ever touch your gun," Emily said on cue.

"And what's rule number three?" Jane said with emphasis, tossing her shoulder holster on the coffee table next to her gun.

"Don't ever, ever, ever go outside unless you say so."

"Good." Jane slumped onto the couch, arranged the pillows and then pulled off her cowboy boots. "You got that thing ready to roll?" Emily nodded. Jane pulled up the makeshift bedding on the couch and turned off the table lamp. Emily turned on the Starlight Starbright. In an instant, the floors, walls and ceiling were covered with pinpoint stars that slowly turned clockwise around the room. Emily moved another k.n.o.b and the soft sounds of crashing waves and distant seagulls calling their partners gently issued forth. Underneath, the moody melody of "Nessun Dorma" filled the room. Emily spooned her body in front of Jane's and pulled the covers up around her neck.

"Isn't it pretty?" Emily quietly said.

"Yeah. It is."

There was a calm silence between the two of them. Both were drawn into the rhythmic sounds and twinkling stars that floated across the ceiling.

"What does it feel like to die?" Emily asked in a whisper.

Jane thought for a second. "It gets very quiet. So quiet that you can't hear yourself trying to breathe. There's no pain. No sadness. You just float far, far away. Until the you that was, no longer exists."

Emily felt herself drifting off to sleep. "Okay," she said quietly as her eyelids got heavy. It was so very peaceful-so serene. She was just about to drift off to sleep when she was jolted awake by the sound of a bloodcurdling scream.

"What is it?" Jane said, herself jumping to her senses.

"You hear that?" Emily arched her back, peering around the darkened room.

"Hear what?"

Emily scanned the room and waited. She sunk back into the couch, closely nestling her body to Jane. "Nothing," she whispered.

Chapter 12.

It had been a long time since Jane dreamed of her mother. Twenty-five years had pa.s.sed since her death and along with it, the distinct memory of her appearance and the sound of her voice. So on the rare occasion when Jane would catch a glimpse of her mother in a dream, there was a faraway, unfamiliar resonance to the experience.

The dreams were always the same-pinpointed moments in time that flashed like a video. Anne standing at the sink in the kitchen looking out the window. Anne hanging sheets on the clothesline. Anne sitting in a chair reading a book. Anne staring into the air with that trapped look on her face. They were crisp images that lasted mere seconds but conveyed years of emotions and an underlying deep sadness. The dream invariably culminated in the final moments of Anne's life.

Anne Perry was propped up in a hospital bed that had been wheeled into the living room. Her gaunt, pasty white face blended into the dingy sheets that covered her body. Her sunken eyes fixated on a spot above her as ten-year-old Jane encouraged her mother to take one more spoonful of soup. Outside, Dale Perry shoveled snow in the late February shadows while five-year-old Mike played alone in the drifts of snow. Pavarotti sang "Nessun Dorma" on the radio that was sitting next to Anne's bedside. There was a plaintive sense in the air that winter day. To Jane, it felt as if the tentacles of heaven were impatiently reaching down to collect another soul.

Even at Jane's young age, she knew her mother was giving up and that it was only a matter of time before she would die. Jane hated her for that and yet, could not bring herself to let go of her mother.

Anne pushed the soup bowl away from her. "That's enough," she whispered.

"You gotta eat more," Jane admonished her mother.

Anne turned her attention to Pavarotti's tenor voice on the radio. "I love 'Nessun Dorma.' I looked up the translation of the words once. It's a beautiful story. Listen to the way he feels the words, Jane." Jane let the haunting melody engulf her. She could sense the pa.s.sion and depth of emotion that 'Nessun Dorma' evoked. "Promise me you'll look up the words in English one day, okay?"

"Okay," Jane said, feeling as though 'Nessun Dorma' was becoming a backdrop for a tragic event. "Come on, Mama. Eat more soup," Jane urged Anne.

"I'm tired, Jane. Bone tired." Her mother's voice filled with an undercurrent of rage. "I want you to really listen to me."

Jane backed away. She knew what was coming. "Take a nap, okay?"

"Jane Anne Perry, come back here now!" Anne demanded in the strongest voice she could muster. Jane reluctantly moved back to the bed. "I want you to promise me that you will always be strong." Anne's bony hand took hold of Jane's hand and held it tightly. "You've got an inner strength that you don't even know you've got. Promise me you'll dig deep and use it."

Jane held on to her mother's hand. "I promise."

Anne tried to crane her neck to look outside but didn't have the energy. "Where's your father?"

"Outside with Mike."

"Good. I want you to promise me something else. Watch over your brother."