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She was just the kid version of his Crispin Maria. Except for the eyes. No one had eyes like Crispin Maria. Crispin Maria had probably looked a great deal like this kid as a child.
The little girl was small, though. Gregory had bitched often enough about her being under the growth chart for height and weight like those were extremely bad things. Said he had made certain the nanny followed the exact meal plan Gregory had created. She was supposed to betaller,or something.
Kid had always looked healthy to Vaughn, though. And smart as a whip. But calling the damned cops—how in the hell had that kid even known how to do that?
Gregory deliberately kept these kids away from the outside world. Didn’t even let them watch TV. No outside influences on his perfect educational environment he’d created for his little eggheads he’d kept.
No way this kid knew how to call the cops. She was just bluffing. She’d probably just pressed random numbers, calling Africa or something. Kids did that.
She was just as smart as her big sister. Had the same smile, he thought. Hell, he couldn't do anything to hurt her.
She had the same damned mouth as his precious angel.
"You are going to stay in your room until Gregory deals with you, young lady. You've been bad, Oakley. Go. In there right now." He put her down, nudged her into her bedroom, thinking once again how boring the room looked. Kid didn't even have that many toys.
What she had were alleducationaland made of wood.
All part of Gregory's stupid fucking experiment to raise the perfect little geniuses or something.
Didn't sound like much of a childhood to him. Far worse than his and Hector’s. Vaughn’s kids someday would get to play like little kids were supposed to, and have real toys and stuff. None of that wooden shit.
He left her there. Locked her door. For good measure, he stopped off and locked the boy's a few doors down, too, after checking on him. Kid felt warm. Probably getting sick again. Kid was always getting sick from something. Kid was out, too, his little rear end stuck up in the air and a stuffed girl clown doll or something with red hair in his arm.
He didn't need either of those kids going into the kitchen and seeing what he'd done to that damned nanny who'd threatened to spill to the cops. That woman even knewnames.
She'd been with Gregory since that girl was born. She probably had known a damned lot. Not now though. He'd made certain of it.
He didn’t really feel that regretful.
She’d been an old hag—but the kids had loved her ok. There was that. Who would they have now that she was dead? He hadn’t thought that far. Gregory was going mad—what would he do with the kids?
He and Crispin Maria had to get out of there. The cops would be on their way. If the kid had called like she had said.
She probably hadn’t.
He wasn’t willing to risk it.
They were just lucky this old haunted shithouse was so far from any real town. That would buy them some time to get out.
He ran downstairs. Gregory needed to know.
Vaughn had to find his girl, too. Get her out of here. Before hell came raining down on all of them.
100
Murdoch didn't knowwhat he had going on here. Had Zoey somehow stumbled into an obsessive serial killer who'd taken her at the first vulnerable opportunity?
It was possible. She’d been featured in that damnedSnotty Garlicalmost monthly since the governor’s damned wedding. Gorgeous, well-connected. It was possible.
Not probable, though. Considering an obsessed sociopath had taken her best friend Shelby, resulting in the mass shooting that had nearly killed Zoey before.Twice in two years was a bit much, right?
Just a random serial killer targeting a young, single woman when she'd been alone? It was possible, too. But not probable either.
And how did this little girl factor in?
No. This tied to her biological mother. He'd bet his badge on that.
They had missed something somewhere. He just had to findher.
