The two MTs walked out from the rear of the house, equipment in hand. “She won’t go to the hospital,” one of them announced. “The adult female. The minor’s mostly just shaken up, but the adult female could use the hospital.”
“What’s her status?”
“Two cracked ribs, bruised kidney, sprained wrist, deep lacerations on both wrists and ankles from fighting against the zip ties, broken nose, severe facial and torso bruising, and lacerations from repeated blows. She was dehydrated, suffered a mild concussion.”
“We’ll see what we can do about getting her to agree to the hospital.”
The other MT shook his head. “Won’t budge. Wouldn’t take a tranq, either. We’ve got her splinted, wanded, stabilized, but she needs to go in.”
“Got it,” Eve said as the MTs walked out.
“She’s afraid to be a foot away from the kid,” Vols told Eve. “Like the kid’s afraid to be a foot away from the mom. You can’t blame them.”
“Yeah. I got that, too. Good work, Officer.”
With Peabody, Eve started back to tell a woman her husband was dead, and a child her father wouldn’t be coming home again.
2
The kid sat, hollow-eyed, glued to her mother’s side on a wide sofa covered with big, bold red flowers. She wore baggy cotton pants, thick pink socks, a purple sweatshirt. The bruises on her wrists added more purple.
Her mother kept a protective arm wrapped around her.
Bruises rioted over Cecily’s face. Eve noted the swelling and blackened rays at the edges of the ice patch on her left eye.
NuSkin bandages wrapped around both of her wrists. Violet-and-yellow bruises spread around her unpatched right eye.
When she shifted, the flicker over her face told Eve there was still considerable pain.
“Ms. Greenspan, I’m Lieutenant Dallas. This is Detective Peabody. We have some questions. We can speak to you at the health center of your choice, as the medics who treated you strongly recommend further examination and treatment.”
“The MTs treated us here. We want to be home.” She looked down at her daughter who cuddled a little closer, nodded. “No one will tell us about Paul, about my husband, Melody’s father. We’ll answer all your questions, but you have to answer one first. Where is Paul?”
Eve sat. Eye-to-eye was better, though there was never a better. “I regret to inform you, your husband’s dead. We’re very sorry for your loss.”
The girl stared at Eve for a long, trembling moment, then pressed her face to her mother’s side. She made a sound like a small animal in terrible pain.
Cecily turned to gather her daughter in, and the pain, all the levels of it drained her face of color until the bruises stood out like banners.
“Are you sure? Are you sure? Are you—”
“Yes. I’m sorry, but we’re sure.”
“Is there someone we can call for you?” Peabody asked. “Can I get you something? Water, some tea?”
“How? How?”
“Detective Peabody can take Melody into another room,” Eve began, and Melody pushed away from her mother, aimed a ferocious look at Eve.
“I’m not leaving my mom. They made me leave her, and they kept hurting her and Daddy. I’m not going to leave. They made him do something awful. They made him because they kept hurting Mom and said how they’d do things to me. One of them had a knife and told Daddy he’d cut me, and he pulled my hair really hard to make me yell. I tried not to, I tried, but it hurt.”
“It’s okay, Melly, It’s okay, my baby.”
“They killed Daddy, and he didn’t do anything. They hurt Mom and she didn’t do anything.”
“Neither did you,” Eve said. “Did they do anything else to hurt you?”
“They put the plastic tie things on my wrist and my feet, really tight. They hurt. When the one took Daddy away, the other came in and . . . he made the ties looser so they didn’t hurt so much. But he said if I didn’t yell for Daddy to help me in the ’link, he’d kill Mom.”
“Oh, Melly, oh baby.”
“I had to do it. I had to. And I could hear Daddy crying. He was crying, but he said it would be okay. It’s not okay. They killed Daddy.”
“Tell us what happened,” Eve said to Cecily, “from the beginning.”
“I heard Melly scream. We were all in bed. I don’t know what time exactly, late Friday night, early Saturday morning. I know it was after midnight because Paul and I didn’t go to bed until about midnight. I heard her scream, and I started to get up and run to her room. Something hit me. Someone.”
She touched a hand to her face.
“I fell, and he pulled my arms behind me, used the zip ties. I called for Paul, but he dragged me back to the bed, hit me again and bound me to the headboard. I could see that Paul was still sleeping—at first I thought he was somehow sleeping through it, but I realized they’d used something—a pressure syringe. He was unconscious, helpless. The other one came in with Melly, bound her to the chair.
“I kept asking what they wanted, begged them not to hurt my baby, told them to take whatever they wanted. They didn’t say anything, didn’t speak. They dragged Paul to the other chair. They tied him, then used another syringe. It brought him around. He tried to fight, but . . .”
“They hurt Mom again. They kept hurting Mom.”
“I’m all right now, Melly. I’m okay now. They hurt me, threatened to hurt Melly to torture Paul. They laughed when he cursed them, threatened them, begged them. They just laughed. Then one sat on the side of the bed, beside me—touched me.”
Cecily’s eyes met Eve’s, said all.
“He said it would get worse, a lot worse. And did Paul want to save his wife and child? Did he want to protect them? Would he do anything to save them? Of course Paul said yes. He said he’d do anything.”
“They took me away, even though Mom and Daddy begged,” Melody said. “One of them carried me into my room and used another of the zip things to tie me to my bed so I couldn’t get up. I was scared, and I kept calling for Mom and Daddy, but the one who locked me in, before he did, he said everything was going to be okay. He told me not to be scared, but to stop calling for my mom and dad. So I stopped calling for them. He wanted me to, so I stopped.”
“You’re smart and you’re brave,” Peabody told her.
“They still killed Daddy.”
“Daddy saved us,” Cecily murmured as she pressed her lips to her daughter’s hair. “The one sitting on the bed told Paul he had to do one thing to save his wife and child. One thing, and they’d leave us alone. If he didn’t do what they said, they’d keep hurting me, they’d . . . violate me, and then they’d start on Melody. If he still wouldn’t do it, they’d kill all of us, him last so he could watch them kill his wife and child. They kept saying that—or the one did—wife and child.”
“What did they say he had to do?”
“Kill. Take lives to save lives. His wife and child, didn’t they mean more to him than anyone else? Paul said he would but he was lying, and they knew it. The one said he needed more time, more persuasion to make the deal. Then he advised me to convince my husband to save me and my child. They left us alone. I don’t know how long.”
“They left you and your husband alone in the bedroom?”
“Yes. Paul tried to get free. I tried. He kept asking if I was all right, telling me he’d find a way. We told each other we loved each other. He swore he’d never let anything happen to Melly.”
Cecily shuddered, took a moment to try to regulate her breathing that had gone ragged. “I think they had a recorder in the room because the one, when he came back in, mocked some of what we’d said to each other.
“It went on and on and on. One would come in, hit me or touch me. Then do something to make Melody call out. Ask Paul if he’d do anything to save his wife and child. Hours. Hours and hours. Then they dragged me out. I fought, and one of them hit me and knocked me out, I think. They took me to the basement, locked me up, but they put up a camera. I think they wanted Paul to see me, locked in, cold and hurt, afraid. I was so afraid. I never saw them again. I never saw Paul again.”