Free The Sleeping Doll by Jeffery Deaver Page B

into a school and shoots students and kills himself. We want the bad guy alive. We need somebody to blame. It’s human nature.”

    He was right, Jennie reflected. She was relieved, but also terrified that she’d upset him. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t’ve mentioned anything.”

    She expected him to tell her to shut up, maybe even get out of the car and walk away. But to her shock he smiled and stroked her hair. “You can ask me anything.”

    She hugged him again. Felt more tears on her cheek and touched them away. The makeup had clotted. She backed away, staring at her fingers. Oh, no. Look at this! She wanted to be pretty for him.

    The fears coming back, digging away.

    Oh, Jennie, you’re going to be wearing your hair like that? You sure you want to? … You don’t want bangs? They’d cover up that high forehead of yours.

    What if she didn’t live up to his expectations?

    Daniel Pell took her face in his strong hands. “Lovely, you’re the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. You don’t even need makeup.”

    Like he could see right into her thoughts.

    Crying again. “I’ve been worried you wouldn’t like me.”

    “Wouldn’t like you. Baby, I love you. What I emailed you, remember?”

    Jennie remembered every word he’d written. She looked into his eyes. “Oh, you’re such a beautiful person.” She pressed her lips against his. Though they made love in her imagination at least once a day, this was their first kiss. She felt his teeth against her lips, his tongue. They stayed locked together in this fierce embrace for what seemed like forever, though it could have been a mere second. Jennie had no sense of time. She wanted him inside her, pressing hard, his chest pulsing against hers.

    Souls are where love should start, but you’ve got to get the bodies involved pretty damn soon.

    She slipped her hand along his bare, muscular leg.

    He gave a laugh. “Tell you what, lovely, maybe we’d better get out of here.”

    “Sure, whatever you want.”

    He asked, “You have the phone I called you on?” Daniel had told her to buy three prepaid cell phones with cash. She handed him the one she’d answered when he’d called just after he’d escaped. He took it apart and pulled the battery and SIM card out. He threw them into a trash can and returned to the car.

    “The others?”

    She produced them. He handed her one and put the other in his pocket.

    He said, “We ought to —”

    A siren sounded nearby — close. They froze.

    Angel songs, Jennie thought, then recited this good–luck mantra a dozen times.

    The sirens faded into the distance.

    She turned back. “They might come back.” Nodding after the sirens.

    Daniel smiled. “I’m not worried about that. I just want to be alone with you.”

    Jennie felt a shiver of happiness down her spine. It almost hurt.
    • • •
    The west–central regional headquarters of the California Bureau of Investigation, home to dozens of agents, was a two–story modern structure, near Highway 68, indistinguishable from the other buildings around it — functional rectangles of glass and stone, housing doctors’ and lawyers’ offices, architectural firms, computer companies and the like. The landscaping was meticulous and boring, the parking lots always half–empty. The countryside rose and fell in gentle hills, which were at the moment bright green, thanks to recent rains. Often the ground was as brown as Colorado during a dry spell.
    A United Express regional jet banked sharply and low, then leveled off, vanishing over the trees for the touchdown at nearby Monterey Peninsula Airport.

    Kathryn Dance and Michael O’Neil were in the CBI’s ground–floor conference room, directly beneath her office. They stood side by side, staring at a large map on which the roadblocks were indicated — this time with push–pins, not entomological Post–it notes. There had been no sightings of the Worldwide Express driver’s Honda, and