sorry, Mr. McAvoy. I don't want to add to your grief. I want to find
out who's responsible for this."
Brian lit a cigarette from the butt of another and said nothing.
"What can you tell me about what happened tonigmt?"
"They killed Darren. My little boy. The took him out of his crib, and
left him on the floor."
Sick at heart, Johrmo snatched up his Styrofoam cup of coffee and turned
away. Lou reached in his pocket for his pad and freshly sharpened
pencil.
"Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm the boy?"
"No. Everyone loves Darren. He's so bright and funny." Brian's throat
locked up, and he looked around blindly for his own cup. "I know this is
difficult. Can you tell me about tonight?"
"We had a party. We were all going to New York tomorrow, and we had a
party."
"I'd like a list of the guests."
"I don't know. Bev might ..." He trailed off, remembering that Bev
was in a room down the hall, heavily sedated.
"We should be able to put together a fairly accurate list between us,"
Pete put in. He tried to drink more coffee, but it was burning a hole
in his gut. "But you can be sure that no one Brian invited to his home
would have done this."
Lou intended to find out. "Did you know everyone at the party, Mr.
McAvoy?"
"I don't know. Probably not." He rested his elbows on his knees a
moment to rub the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. The pain
was the closest he could get to comfort. "Friends and friends of
friends, and like that. You open the door and people come. It just
happens."
Lou nodded as if he understood. He remembered the parties Marge'
planned. The careful guest lists, RSVPS, the detailed checks and
rechecks of food. Their fifteenth-anniversary party had been planned as
meticulously as a state dinner.
"We'll work on the list," Lou decided. "Your daughter, Emma, is it?"
"Yes, Emma."
"She was upstairs during the party."
"Yes. Asleep." His babies, tucked away, safe and sound. "They were
both asleep."
"In the same room?"
"No, they have separate rooms. Alice Wallingsford, our nanny, was
upstairs with them."
"Yes." He'd already had the report that the nanny had been found bound,
gagged, and terrified in her own bed. "And the little girl fell down
toucan carry me," he said, then heard Emma scream.
He rammed into a small table as he turned. Dizzy from drugs and booze,
he stumbled, righted himself, and rushed into the foyer. There
were people already gathered. Pushing through them, he saw her crumpled
at the foot of the steps.
"Emma. My God." He was terrified to touch her. There was blood at the
corner of her mouth. With one trembling finger, he wiped it away. He