Shane opened his mouth wider, and tasted the dirty metal on his tongue.
“I’m doing this to make certain you love Amelia,” she said.
He sat there, trying not to shake, and counting the seconds while she kept the gun in his mouth. It struck him as bizarre, the way she’d said
The notion that she might not be Amelia didn’t occur to him at all. Shane didn’t have a chance. Before the thought even entered his head a bullet already had.
She dipped her hand in the cold lake water to rinse it off. Blood had sprayed on her face and hair, too. She licked her lips and tasted it: salty and warm. Then she bent over the side of the canoe and washed off her face.
Shane had flopped back so violently that the boat had almost tipped over. Water had sluiced in, and one of the oars had gotten knocked into the lake. Now he lay there on the floor of the canoe in an awkward contortion. The small puddle of water lapping around him was almost completely red now.
She checked his wallet. There were only seventeen dollars in there. She kept ten. She’d noticed the ring on his right hand earlier. It was gold with a beautiful black onyx stone. She twisted it off his finger and dropped it into her purse. Wiping off the gun, she carefully placed it beside his lifeless hand. Then with the one oar they had left, she paddled toward the little island. The small patch of land was still unoccupied. She let the canoe hit the muddy bank. Climbing out of the canoe, she stepped knee-deep into the icy lake. She hoisted the knapsack over her shoulder. She had a change of clothes in there, among other things.
Giving the boat a shove, she watched it drift away from the shore.
Then she turned and headed for dry land.
Chapter Sixteen
“Sorry I didn’t call back sooner,” Karen said into her cell. She walked along Boylston Avenue at a brisk clip. She wore a trench coat over her black jeans and her dark green V-neck sweater.
She’d cancelled all her afternoon appointments before running out of the house. It was eleven blocks to her destination, and Karen was in a hurry. She might have taken a cab, but this wasn’t a phone conversation she wanted to conduct in the back of a taxi. She’d turned down Boylston to avoid the crowds and the traffic noise along the main drag, Broadway. This street was more residential, with an eclectic mix of brand-new and very old apartment buildings. Trees lined the parkways, and their fallen leaves covered the sidewalk. Karen hadn’t encountered too many other pedestrians taking this route.
“I wasn’t ignoring you, Detective,” she explained on the phone. “The last couple of hours, I’ve been busy making calls, hoping to find out where Amelia might have gone. You see, I probably should have told you this morning, but, well, Amelia stayed over at my place last night.”
“Is that so?” Jacqueline Peyton said on the other end of the line. “You knew we wanted to get in touch with Amelia. And yet you deliberately kept her from talking to us. Why?”
Karen hesitated. She didn’t want to say anything to incriminate Amelia or herself. Hell, she didn’t even want to be talking to the police right now. But if there was
Yet, she’d slipped her dad’s revolver into her purse before leaving the house a few minutes ago. Exactly who she intended to use it on she didn’t know.
“I’m sorry,” she said at last. “But I’m Amelia’s therapist, and my first duty is to my client. She’s a very sweet, very confused young woman-”
“Did she meet with Koehler on Sunday?” Jacqueline Peyton pressed.
“I can’t say,” Karen replied, picking up her pace. “I can’t tell you anything we discussed in confidence-”
“You know, Karen, that won’t hold up in court.”
“Maybe not, but I’m sticking to it. So, here’s what I can tell you right now. Okay?”
“Go ahead. I’m listening.”
“Amelia stayed at my house last night. After you called me this morning, I went to check on her, and she was gone. So was my car, and about sixty dollars from my purse. My car is a 1999 black Volkswagen Jetta, license plate number EMK903. Are you taking this down?”
“Yes, black VW Jetta, Washington plates EMK903.”
“Amelia’s uncle, her boyfriend, and her roommate don’t have any idea where she is,” Karen continued. “Her uncle and I checked, and she’s not up at her parents’ house in Bellingham. Amelia would never intentionally hurt anybody. But there’s someone who could be with her, and I think he’s trouble. His name’s Blade and he’s in his midtwenties. He has dyed black hair, and wears sunglasses a lot. I believe he drives an old black Cadillac with a bent antenna. I don’t have any other information about him.”
“All right,” the policewoman said. “Where are you right now? Are you at home?”
“No, I’m not,” Karen said. Just half a block ahead, she could see a green sandwich-board sign on the sidewalk. It had ENTERPRISE RENTAL CAR written on it.
“We’ll need to talk to you in person, Karen. And you might want to have your lawyer present.”
“Yes, I was afraid of that,” she murmured into the phone. And then she clicked off.
While they got her compact economy car ready for her, Karen asked to use the restroom. It was a small, gray-tiled unisex bathroom off the garage. She stood by the dirty white sink, and pulled out her cell phone again. She counted three ring tones.
“Sandpoint View Convalescent Home,” Roseann answered.
“Hi, Ro, it’s Karen again, just checking in. How’s my dad?”
“He’s up and around, and having a good day. Still no sign of that girl you asked about.”
“Well, good,” Karen said, relieved. “You might not be able to get ahold of me later this afternoon. If you do see her, call this number right away. Do you have a pen?”
“Just a sec. Okay, shoot.”
“555-9225, that’s a Detective Jacqueline Peyton. Tell her you’re a friend of mine, and you’ve found Amelia Faraday.”
“555-9225,” Roseann repeated. “I’m a friend of yours and I found Amelia Faraday. Got it.”
“Detective Peyton will know what to do from there.”
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
“I can’t right now. But later, Ro, I promise.”
“Sounds like you’re in a hurry to get someplace.”
“Yes, I need to take off soon,” Karen said.
“Well, you caught me in the lounge, and Frank’s right here. Do you have time to talk with him? Like I said, he’s having a good day.”
“Oh, yes, thank you. Ro. Please, put him on.” She waited, and heard some faint murmuring on the other end.
“Hello, Karen?” he said, at last.
“Hi, Poppy, how are you?”
“Fine. How’s my girl doing?”
“I’m okay,” she lied. Her voice even cracked a little, because this was one of those rare moments when she felt like she was talking to her father again. Part of her just wanted to say,
“Well, I’ll be here. Could you bring Rufus?”
“Sure, I will. You sound great, Poppy.”
“We’re having ham for dinner tonight,” he said. “They serve a good ham here.”
