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mercilessly broken. She kicked them out on the street and Hill had shipped them away, like cattle.
It’s for the best,
Hill had said as she’d driven them away, straight into hell on earth.
You’ll see.
But it hadn’t been for the best.
    She’d lied, just like all the others. He and Shane had been helpless, homeless. Vulnerable. Old lady Dougherty was home-less. Soon enough she’d be helpless. And then dead. Now it was Penny Hill’s turn to become helpless and homeless. And dead. It was only fair. To use her own words, it was for the best. She’d see.
    He checked the clock. He had someplace to be. He didn’t want to be late.

Chapter Two
    Monday, November 27, 6:45 a.m
    D addy!”
    The shout, accompanied by the banging on his bedroom door, sent the tie tack in Reed’s hand skittering to the floor and under his dresser. He sighed. “Come in, Beth.”
    The door exploded, admitting both fourteen-year-old Beth and her three-month-old sheepdog, who took a running leap, landing in the middle of Reed’s bed. The dog shook, sending muddy water everywhere.
    “Biggles, no.” Beth yanked on his collar, pulling him across the sheets to the floor where he sat, puppy tongue sticking out just far enough to make him too cute to punish.
    Hands on his hips, Reed stared in dismay at the muddy streaks the puppy had left behind. “I just changed my sheets, Beth. I told you to wipe his paws and dry him off before you brought him back in the house. The backyard is a mud bath.”
    Beth’s lips twitched. “Well, his paws are clean now. I’ll wash the sheets again. But first I need lunch money, Dad. The bus is coming soon.”
    Reed pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “Didn’t I just give you lunch money a few days ago?”
    Beth shrugged, her hand out. “You want me to go hungry, or what?”
    He shot her an overly patient look. “I want you to help me find my tie tack. It rolled under the dresser.”
    Beth dropped to her knees and felt under the dresser. “Here it is.” She dropped it in his palm and he handed her a twenty.
    “Try to make it last for at least two weeks, okay?”
    She wrinkled her nose and in that moment looked so much like her mother that his heart squeezed. Beth folded the bill and slid it down into the pocket of jeans that hadn’t seemed that tight before. “Two weeks? You’ve gotta be kidding.”
    “Do I look like I’m kidding?” He looked her up and down. “Your jeans are too tight, Bethie,” he said and she got that look on her face. Damn, he hated that look. It seemed to have appeared about the same time as the pimples and the mood swings. Reed’s sister Lauren had informed him in a dark whisper that his baby was no longer a baby. God. PMS. He wasn’t ready for this. But it didn’t seem to matter. His baby was a teenager. She’d be going off to college any day now.
    His mind flitted to the victim they’d found in the rubble of the Dougherty house. If she was the college house sitter, she wasn’t much older than Beth, and Reed still didn’t know her name. He still hadn’t heard from Joe Dougherty Junior. He had been able to trace the burned-out Chevy in the garage to a Roger Burnette, but when he and Ben had stopped by the Burnette address, no one had been home. He’d try again this morning after he stopped by the morgue and the lab.
    Beth narrowed her eyes, her acidic tone piercing his thoughts. “Are you saying these jeans make me look fat?”
    Reed sucked in his cheek. There was no good answer to this question. “Not even close. You’re not fat. You’re healthy. You’re perfect. You do not need to lose weight.”
    Eyes rolling, her tone became long-suffering. “I’m not going anorexic, Dad.”
    “Good.” He let out the breath he’d been holding. “I’m just saying we need to go shopping for bigger jeans.” He smiled weakly. “You’re growing too fast, baby. Don’t you like the idea of new clothes?” The tie tack rolled in his clumsy fingers, no longer as dexterous as