“We believe Muriel Pink was murdered sometime last night,” Max said.
Susan wedged herself into the corner of her couch and pulled up her knees. “How?” she asked in a small voice.
“Stabbed,” Afton said. “Someone broke into her home and stabbed her while she was fixing a cup of hot chocolate.”
“We believe,” Max said, “that Muriel Pink’s murder was the direct result of a TV interview she did with Portia Bourgoyne from Channel 7. Going on really just a raw hunch, Bourgoyne linked Pink with the doll lady suspect in your daughter’s kidnapping. The interview aired on Channel 7’s News at Six last night.”
“I didn’t see it. But I’m guessing that you believe the kidnappers saw Mrs. Pink being interviewed?” Susan asked. “And they got worried?”
“That’s exactly what we think,” Afton said. “Mrs. Pink seemed to be . . . recalling a few more details.”
Susan’s face crumpled, and her hand crept up to her mouth. “So the kidnappers are also killers?”
“It’s beginning to look that way,” Afton said.
“And you believe it’s the same two people who broke in here that night,” Susan said slowly. She seemed to be trying to orient herself. “The man who knocked Ashley down and tied her up, and the woman who stole Elizabeth Ann.”
“That’s right,” Afton said.
“So the man is the killer?” Susan asked.
“We don’t know anything for sure,” Afton said. “It’s all speculation so far. But we think that might be the case. There were some, um, elements to the Pink murder that looked amateurish.”
“And it wasn’t Al Sponger,” Susan said.
“Highly doubtful,” Afton said. “Unless he’s got a doppelg?nger twin running around out there.”
“Sponger is under surveillance right now,” Max said. “But we don’t believe he’s competent enough to mastermind a high-profile kidnapping. Or to commit murder.”
“I never thought he was the kidnapper,” Susan said. “Even when the FBI came over yesterday and asked me a whole bunch of questions about Sponger, I never really thought it was him.”
“Sponger’s not entirely off the hook,” Max said. “After all, we’re looking for two suspects.”
“And he did toss out a toy doll,” Afton said. The FBI had briefed Susan Darden on that as well.
“When Sponger was working here, did he ever come into the house?” Max asked.
Susan lifted a hand to her forehead. “Let me see . . . Yes, I believe so. I think he might have asked for a glass of water or something.”
“Did he ever see the baby?” Afton asked.
“I think so. Seems like I was always in the kitchen warming a bottle. I’m sure I had the baby with me in her little bassinette.”
Afton and Max exchanged glances.
“But Sponger’s not in custody?” Susan asked.
“He was,” Max said. “But we didn’t have enough to hold him.”
“But we’re watching him,” Afton said.
“In case he might . . . lead you to . . .” Susan broke off her sentence.
“That’s right,” Afton said. “But let’s not fixate on Sponger right now. We’ve got him covered, and if he even itches his big toe, we’re going to know about it.”
“Okay.” Susan’s voice was thick but controlled.
“We’d like to ask you about the woman at Novamed,” Max said.
Susan dropped her head and then peered up at them through a fringe of blond bangs. “You know about that?”
“It came up yesterday when we were talking to Richard,” Afton said.
“I don’t know who she is,” Susan said. “Because I didn’t want to know. All I know is that it happened.”
“And you believed your husband,” Afton said. “Believed him when he said there was no impropriety on his part.”
Susan considered this. “I believed him at the time.”
“We’re wondering,” Max said, “if there’s a remote possibility that Molly, the doll lady, could be the same woman who harassed Richard at Novamed?”
“That would be an awfully big coincidence, wouldn’t it?” Susan asked.
“Yes, it would,” Max said. “But like I said, we’re looking at all the angles. Trying to tear everything apart.”
“Okay.” Susan shifted on the couch and bounced her knees nervously.
“If the doll lady works or once worked at Novamed,” Afton said, “then that could be where she first came into contact with Richard.”
“Maybe she developed a thing for him,” Max said. “Or saw you at one of their social functions—you did attend corporate functions, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Susan wrinkled her nose. “A few. You’re saying this doll lady might have become obsessed with Richard?”
“It’s a possibility,” Max said. “And if she’s seen you in the past—and then she saw you that day at the Skylark Mall . . .” Max grimaced. “Maybe seeing you triggered something in her brain and she took advantage of the situation.”
“Oh my God,” Susan said. “But I . . . I don’t know who the woman was that supposedly harassed him. Um, did you ask Richard?”