Ronnie stopped in his tracks and swung around to stare at his mother. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “What are you talking about?”
“Forget about that girl upstairs,” Marjorie hissed. “Forget about the baby. Your baby . . . and that other kid. They’re going to be out of here first thing next week.”
“Don’t you dare . . . do anything,” Ronnie growled. His mother thought there were going to be changes? Well, there certainly might be. Little did she know that he’d be the one making those changes.
“I do whatever I damn well please,” Marjorie said. “Not that it’s any of your business.” She spun away from him and walked into her studio.
Ronnie stood in the hallway waiting patiently. Waiting for his mother to scream. It didn’t take long.
There was an ear-piercing shriek followed by Marjorie’s plaintive wail. “What have you done to my Glynnis doll? How could you? How dare you!”
Marjorie rushed back out into the hallway, her face white as a sheet, her jaw working frantically, teeth practically gnashing the air. In her hands she carried an eighteen-inch baby doll. The doll was dressed in a pale peach organza dress with a white Peter Pan collar and puffy sleeves. Where its little head used to be, a bloody fox head had been impaled.
“Have you gone completely loony!” Marjorie screamed. The fox eyes stared at her hard and beady, the whiskers fairly twitched.
“Like it?” Ronnie asked.
“You fool. You imbecile,” she raged. “I’ll show you who’s . . .” Her arm shot up and her hand clenched into a fist, ready to slug him.
Quick as a striking cobra, Ronnie grabbed Marjorie’s wrist and pinched it tight.
“Let me go!” Her dark eyes, sunk into her putty face like raisins, blazed fiercely at him.
“What did you call me?” Ronnie glowered back at Marjorie, gripping her wrist tight, really digging in his fingernails. Then he hoisted her up slowly until she was standing on tiptoes, practically dangling. He decided she looked like a helpless old cow about to be slaughtered.
“Stop it, stop it!” Marjorie screamed, twisting in his grip, eyes rolling back in her head. “Put me down!”
Ronnie fixed her with a crooked, half-glazed smile. “Shut up, bitch,” he whispered. “You shut up before I take you outside and lop your head off with an ax.”
Marjorie snapped her mouth shut as a jolt of fear ripped through her. And for the first time in her life, Marjorie did exactly what her son told her to do.
37
WHO wants the last slice of pepperoni?” Max asked.
“Me,” Bagin said. He gazed across the conference room table at Afton, put a hand to his mouth, and stifled a burp.
“Go ahead and take it,” Afton told him. “In fact, you’re welcome to it.”
It was practically nine o’clock on Friday night. Afton, Max, Thacker, Jasper, Bagin, and a half dozen others had hung around police headquarters, talking nervously, waiting for Darden’s phone to ring, finally ordering out for pizza.
Darden sat at the far end of the table, looking miserable. He didn’t eat; he didn’t talk to any of the others; he just stared at his cell phone as if willing it to ring.
It hadn’t.
For the second time in two days, techs had attached a microphone and miniature tracking device to Darden’s clothing. They’d debated at length about fitting him with a tiny camera, but had decided against it.
Privately, Afton feared that the kidnappers might have abandoned their original plan to collect a ransom. She worried that the Darden baby might have died, accidentally or otherwise, so there wasn’t going to be a phone call. But here she was, just the same. Waiting, hoping to beat the odds, sweating bullets along with the rest of them.
“You should go home to your kids,” Max said. He’d told her that twice already, as if she were the only person in the room who had kids at home.
“They’re fine,” Afton muttered. “Why don’t you go home to yours?”
Max shrugged. “It’s snowing outside, you know?” Four inches had filtered down this afternoon. More snow—an even larger and more dangerous weather system—was already barreling through the Dakotas and heading their way.
“Yeah,” Afton grumbled. “It’s snowing. Tell me something I don’t know.”
Max held her eyes for a few moments, and then broke off his gaze. He knew she was just as invested in this case as he was. Just as frustrated by the lack of inertia.
Another twenty minutes crept by. Detectives, FBI agents, and uniformed officers came and went. They made urgent, whispered phone calls, rattled candy wrappers, slurped coffee, and tried not to alarm Darden any more than they already had.