street as if daring the world to get in her way. No docile little bird here.
Too defiant to appeal to Eve Duncan? Her own daughter had been completely different. But then, Bonnie Duncan had not been brought up in four foster homes like Jane MacGuire. She'd had no need to learn to be streetwise.
He cruised slowly behind the kid. She was going somewhere. She had a purpose.
She suddenly darted into an alley. Should he go after her and risk having her see him? The danger wasn't that great. As usual when he was on the hunt, he'd taken the precaution of a disguise.
He parked the car and got out. She was too good a prospect. He had to make sure.
SON OF A bitch. The creep was following her again.
Well, let him, Jane thought crossly. He was just another dirty old man like the ones who hung out at the school yard and drove away fast if Jane screamed for the teacher. She knew this alley and could run faster than him if she needed to get away. She had noticed him following her yesterday and kept to the public streets.
She couldn't do that today.
“I'm here, Jane.”
She saw Mike crouched inside a big cardboard box against the brick wall. He looked cold. He'd probably slept in the box last night. He usually did when his father came home. Bad luck the bastard had decided to wander back in January, when it was so cold.
She reached into a jacket pocket and handed him the sandwich she'd stolen from Fay's refrigerator that morning. “Breakfast. It's pretty stale. I couldn't get anything else.”
She watched him gobble down the food, then shot a glance behind her.
The creep had ducked into the shadows of a garbage dump. Good place for him.
“Come on. Time to go to school,” she told Mike.
“I ain't going.”
“Sure you are. You want to grow up stupid like your father?”
“I ain't going.”
She played her trump card. “It's warm there.”
Mike thought about it and then got to his feet. “Maybe I'll go just today.”
She'd thought he would. The cold and an empty belly were enemies. She'd spent a lot of nights in alleys herself when she'd been staying with the Carbonis. That was the foster home before Fay's and it was there she'd learned that if she caused enough trouble, not even the welfare money would make foster parents keep her. Welfare was always ready to give them another kid if one didn't work out.
Fay was much better. She was always tired and often crabby, but sometimes Jane thought she might grow to like her . . . if she stayed long enough.
She glanced back at the creep. Still hiding behind the dump. “I think maybe you should find another place to sleep tonight. There's a place near the Union Mission. I'll show you.”
“Okay. You goin' to school now?” Mike asked. “Maybe I could walk along with you.”
He was lonely. He was only six and hadn't learned how to ignore the emptiness yet. “Sure. Why not?”
She smiled at him.
DOM HADN ' T BEEN sure until he'd seen her smile.
The smile was warm and sweet. All the more appealing because of the kid's usual air of wariness and toughness. Without that streak of softness he wouldn't have been sure. But now he was convinced.
Little Jane MacGuire was perfect.
“ YOU ' RE SURE HE ' S the Devon boy?” Spiro asked when Joe opened the door later that afternoon.
“It's close enough.” Joe gestured to the pedestal. “The picture's on the worktable. See for yourself.”
“I'll do that.” He crossed the room. “Where's Ms. Duncan?”
“Still sleeping.”
“Wake her up. I need to talk to her.”
“Screw you. She's exhausted. Talk to me.”
“I have to—” He gave a low whistle as he compared the reconstruction with the photo. “Damn, she's good.”
“Yes.”
He tossed the photo back on the worktable. “I almost wish it wasn't him. You realize what this means?”
“Yes, and so does Eve.”
“I'm going to have to use her, Quinn.”
“No one uses Eve.”
“Unless she wants to
Too defiant to appeal to Eve Duncan? Her own daughter had been completely different. But then, Bonnie Duncan had not been brought up in four foster homes like Jane MacGuire. She'd had no need to learn to be streetwise.
He cruised slowly behind the kid. She was going somewhere. She had a purpose.
She suddenly darted into an alley. Should he go after her and risk having her see him? The danger wasn't that great. As usual when he was on the hunt, he'd taken the precaution of a disguise.
He parked the car and got out. She was too good a prospect. He had to make sure.
SON OF A bitch. The creep was following her again.
Well, let him, Jane thought crossly. He was just another dirty old man like the ones who hung out at the school yard and drove away fast if Jane screamed for the teacher. She knew this alley and could run faster than him if she needed to get away. She had noticed him following her yesterday and kept to the public streets.
She couldn't do that today.
“I'm here, Jane.”
She saw Mike crouched inside a big cardboard box against the brick wall. He looked cold. He'd probably slept in the box last night. He usually did when his father came home. Bad luck the bastard had decided to wander back in January, when it was so cold.
She reached into a jacket pocket and handed him the sandwich she'd stolen from Fay's refrigerator that morning. “Breakfast. It's pretty stale. I couldn't get anything else.”
She watched him gobble down the food, then shot a glance behind her.
The creep had ducked into the shadows of a garbage dump. Good place for him.
“Come on. Time to go to school,” she told Mike.
“I ain't going.”
“Sure you are. You want to grow up stupid like your father?”
“I ain't going.”
She played her trump card. “It's warm there.”
Mike thought about it and then got to his feet. “Maybe I'll go just today.”
She'd thought he would. The cold and an empty belly were enemies. She'd spent a lot of nights in alleys herself when she'd been staying with the Carbonis. That was the foster home before Fay's and it was there she'd learned that if she caused enough trouble, not even the welfare money would make foster parents keep her. Welfare was always ready to give them another kid if one didn't work out.
Fay was much better. She was always tired and often crabby, but sometimes Jane thought she might grow to like her . . . if she stayed long enough.
She glanced back at the creep. Still hiding behind the dump. “I think maybe you should find another place to sleep tonight. There's a place near the Union Mission. I'll show you.”
“Okay. You goin' to school now?” Mike asked. “Maybe I could walk along with you.”
He was lonely. He was only six and hadn't learned how to ignore the emptiness yet. “Sure. Why not?”
She smiled at him.
DOM HADN ' T BEEN sure until he'd seen her smile.
The smile was warm and sweet. All the more appealing because of the kid's usual air of wariness and toughness. Without that streak of softness he wouldn't have been sure. But now he was convinced.
Little Jane MacGuire was perfect.
“ YOU ' RE SURE HE ' S the Devon boy?” Spiro asked when Joe opened the door later that afternoon.
“It's close enough.” Joe gestured to the pedestal. “The picture's on the worktable. See for yourself.”
“I'll do that.” He crossed the room. “Where's Ms. Duncan?”
“Still sleeping.”
“Wake her up. I need to talk to her.”
“Screw you. She's exhausted. Talk to me.”
“I have to—” He gave a low whistle as he compared the reconstruction with the photo. “Damn, she's good.”
“Yes.”
He tossed the photo back on the worktable. “I almost wish it wasn't him. You realize what this means?”
“Yes, and so does Eve.”
“I'm going to have to use her, Quinn.”
“No one uses Eve.”
“Unless she wants to
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