Iris Johansen - Pandora's Daughter

"It's not your fault. You did what you thought was right."

"I thought he'd be coming after us, after me. Who the devil could believe that Molino would be able to snatch Phillip out of that place? But people died because I underestimated Molino. I won't let that happen again. I'm not putting anyone else on the line. What did Venable say?"

"He'll have a man in Molino's Miami apartment within a few hours. The personal object Renata needs will be delivered to us by eight A.M. tomorrow morning." He glanced at his watch. "That gives you at least six hours to sleep. Suppose we check in here for tonight?"

"Whatever," she said wearily. "Anywhere will do."

"I'm sleeping with you tonight." He shook his head as she opened her mouth to speak. "Sleeping. You've called me insensitive before, but even I have my limits." He took three steps forward and pulled her into his arms. "You're stretched tense and fragile as a rubber band," he said roughly. "You're full of sadness and worry and guilt and I can feel every single nuance of it. It's driving me crazy. If you'd let me, I could take it away and let you forget. But you won't do that, will you?"

She shook her head. "No." But he was taking away some of that disturbance just by holding her and letting her realize that she wasn't alone. Her arms slid around him and she buried her face in his chest. Her voice was muffled. "Thank you. This feels good. I'm not really… fragile. You know that, Grady."

"Yeah." His lips brushed her temple. "But let's pretend you are for tonight. It will make me feel as if I'm doing something worthwhile. Let me hold you, Megan."

Let me hold you. Let me share your burden. Let me be part of you. Sweet thoughts, a sweeter reality.

"Okay," she whispered. "For tonight."

"HERE IT IS." GRADY CAME into the motel room the next morning and tossed a briefcase on the bed. "Venable's agent delivered it fifteen minutes ago." He paused. "He appeared anxious to get rid of it."

She swung her legs to the floor. "I'll call Renata and tell her we're on our way. What time is it?"

"Seven-twenty." He turned and headed for the bathroom. "We should be on the road in fifteen minutes."

"Right." She was already dialing Renata's number. "We've got it," she said when she reached her. "We'll be there in a few hours."

Silence. "You've got it?"

"Yes, I told you. Venable came through for us. Were you able to zero in on anything from Darnell's sunglasses?"

"No, the vibes were stronger but still inconclusive. If Molino is in this area, then Darnell isn't with him."

"Well, maybe you'll have better luck with one of Molino's possessions."

"Maybe."

"Where shall we meet you?"

"There's a side road on the other side of Redwing just after you pass a little restaurant called Roadkill."

"Yuck. What a name. That will stick in my memory. You'll be waiting on the side road?"

"I'll be there." She hung up.

Megan slowly pressed the disconnect. There it was again; that odd note of which she'd been aware when Renata had spoken about the objects in Molino's Miami apartment. Tension? Fear?

Megan's gaze shifted to the briefcase on the bed.

He appeared anxious to get rid of it.

Why would Venable's agent want to get this briefcase out of his hands?

She slowly reached out and pulled the briefcase toward her.

RENATA WAS LEANING AGAINST the side of her SUV and straightened as she saw Megan pull up. "Where's Grady? He shouldn't have let you come alone."

"He's right behind me. I told him I wanted to talk to you." She grabbed the briefcase and jumped out of the car.

Renata's stiffened, her gaze on the briefcase. "Is that it?"

"Yes. Let's go for a walk."

Renata didn't move. "Why?"

"Stop asking questions." Megan didn't look at her as she strode ahead of her down the road. "I have a few to ask myself."

"Just give me the briefcase." Later.

Renata caught up with her a minute later. "You opened it, didn't you?" Yes.

"What was in it?"

She stopped and turned to face her. "Don't you know?"

Renata shook her head. "The Kipler woman said the drawer was crammed. It could have been anything."

"But you knew whatever it was that you'd be able to use it."

Renata moistened her lips. "What's in it?"

Megan hands were shaking as she opened the briefcase. "It's a child's pink dress. It's ragged, faded, and it must have belonged to a little girl, no more than seven, or eight." She pulled out the dress and offered it to Renata. "Such a little thing to upset a tough CIA agent. Grady said he couldn't wait to get rid of it."

"It's not such a little thing." Renata didn't take the pink dress. "He must have known what it was."

"And what is it, Renata? What was in that drawer? You've been acting scared to death ever since we talked about it."

She lifted her chin. "I'm not scared."

"Then take the dress."

"I will." She didn't move for a moment and then reached out and her hand closed on the cotton material of the dress. She shuddered. "Oh, God."

She ran over to the side of the road and threw up.

"Renata." Megan was beside her, her comforting hand on the other woman's shoulder. "For heaven's sake, Renata."

"I'm sorry." She gasped. "I didn't mean-I'll be better soon."

"Sit down." Megan gently pushed her to the ground to lean against a tall pine tree. Renata's breathing was harsh, rapid. Megan knelt down beside her. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

"It's pretty obvious, isn't it? I got sick."

"Why?"

Renata looked down at the little dress she was still clutching. "Maybe I don't like pink."

"Then let me have it back." Megan took the dress from her hand. "You don't have to use this. We'll get something else."

"No." But her breathing appeared to be less labored now that she was no longer clutching the dress. "It has to be this one. Or something like it."

"Why? What is it?"

"I think you know."

"I made a guess when I saw it. I almost threw up too." Her hand tightened on the dress. "Did it belong to one of the little girl's Molino sold into slavery?"

Renata nodded jerkily. "The Kipler woman told me that Molino was into collecting trophies. He had everything in that drawer from body parts of men who had crossed him to the hair of children he'd raped and killed." The tears were slowly running down her cheeks. "He particularly liked the dresses the little girls had worn the day they were captured. Hedda Kipler made a number of trips from various parts of the world gathering booty from customers and bandits and delivering them to Molino. She said she'd seen him sit at his desk, smiling and fondling them."

The horror that image brought was almost overpowering. "And you still told us to go get… this."

"You want Molino, don't you? This will make it certain I can find him for you."

"You can't even touch this dress without throwing up."

"Yes, I can. Give me a little time." She reached out a tentative finger and touched the dress. She shivered, but her finger remained on the material. "I'm not usually this much of a coward. It's just that I can see her."

"You can?"

"And Molino too. They're all mixed up together. I was afraid it would be like that. It's happened to me before. I'm not like you. I… can't handle that kind of emotion. It's feels as if I'm being beaten." She drew a deep shaky breath. "And it wasn't only the money for him. It gave him a sense of power to destroy those little girls. He liked to stroke these clothes and think about it." A monster.

Renata nodded. "And these trophies couldn't be sending out stronger signals. This is the essence of that son of a bitch. I'll be able to find him even if he's a thousand miles away."

"You said it was mixed up with the little girl."

"Once I get used to her, I'll be able to isolate him." She said hoarsely. "She was so frightened, Megan. Her name was Adia and she ran and ran, but the bandits were on horseback and they caught her. She was crying but nobody cared…"