“The cat died violently.”
“Well, I guess it got hit by a car. That’s such a pity. I told Emily I was afraid of that.”
“It wasn’t hit by a car.”
“Do you suppose one of the dogs around here got it?”
“No,” I said as Marino returned with what looked like a glass of white wine.
“The kitten was killed by a person. Deliberately.”
“How could you know such a thing as that?” She looked terrified, and her hands trembled as she took the wine and set it on the table next to her chair.
“There were physical findings that make it clear the cat’s neck was wrung,” I continued to explain very calmly.
“And I know it’s awful for you to hear details like this, Mrs. Steiner, but you must know the truth if you are to help us find the person responsible.”
“You got any idea who might have done something like that to your little girl’s kitten?” Marino sat back down and leaned forward again, forearms resting on his knees, as if he wanted to assure her that she could depend on and feel safe with him. She silently struggled for composure. Reaching for her wine, she took several unsteady sips.
“I do know I’ve gotten some calls.” She took a deep breath.
“You know, my fingernails are blue. I’m such a wreck.” She held out a hand.
“I can’t settle down. I can’t sleep. I don’t know what to do.” She dissolved into tears again.
“Denesa, it’s all right,” Marino said kindly.
“You just take your time. We’re not going anywhere. Now tell me about the phone calls.” She wiped her eyes and went on.
“It’s been men mostly. Maybe one woman who said if I’d kept my eye on my little girl like a good mother, this wouldn’t have… But one sounded young, like a boy playing pranks. He said something. You know. Like he’d seen Emily riding her bike. This was after. So it couldn’t have been. But this other one, he was older. He said he wasn’t finished. ” She drank more wine.
“He wasn’t finished?” I asked.
“Did he say anything else?”
“I don’t remember.” She shut her eyes.
“When was this?” Marino asked.
“Right after she was found. Found by the lake.” She reached for her wine again and knocked it over.
“I’ll get that.” Marino abruptly got up.
“I need to smoke.”
“Do you know what he meant?” I asked her.
“I knew he was referring to what happened. To who did this to her. I felt he was saying it wasn’t the end of bad things. And I guess it was a day later I found Socks.”
“Captain, maybe you could fix me some toast with peanut butter or cheese. I feel like my blood sugar’s getting low,” said Mrs. Steiner, who seemed oblivious to the glass on its side and the puddle of wine on the table by her chair. He left the room again.
“When the man broke into your house and abducted your daughter,” I said, “did he speak to you at all?”
“He said if I didn’t do exactly what he said, he’d kill me.”
“So you heard his voice.” She nodded as she rocked, her eyes not leaving me.
“Did it sound like the voice on the phone that you were just telling us about?”
“I don’t know. It might have. But it’s hard to say.”
“Mrs. Steiner… ?”
“You can call me Denesa.” Her stare was intense.
“What else do you remember about him, the man who came into your house and taped you up?”
“You’re wondering if he might be that man in Virginia who killed the little boy.” I said nothing.
“I remember seeing pictures of the little boy and his family in People magazine. I remember thinking back then how awful it was, that I couldn’t imagine being his mother. It was bad enough when Mary Jo died. I never thought I’d get past that.”
“Is Mary Jo the child you lost to SIDS?” Interest sparked beneath her dark pain, as if she were impressed or curious that I would know this detail.
“She died in my bed. I woke up and she was next to Chuck, dead.”