tiny stones made a hail-like racket under her rental car, and the occasional divot gave her a jolt. Karen had an awful foreboding feeling in the pit of her stomach, along with nerves and hunger, too. She hadn’t eaten all day.
She spotted a turnaround on her left. Helene had told her to ignore that one. The inlet the Faradays used was up ahead. Karen slowed down. She could see a little plateau off the bay with enough room for two small cars. As she inched into the spot, Karen could see other tire marks in the gravel and dirt.
After the two-and-a-half-hour drive, Karen’s legs cramped a bit as she climbed out of the rental. Grabbing her purse, she took another look at the gun inside. Along with the tire tracks, she noticed a cigarette butt and footprints, too. It looked like more than one person.
So Amelia hadn’t come here alone this morning. She must have been with Blade.
Karen saw the footprints again as she made her way down the trail, which was mostly dirt, but some patches were covered in gravel. There were a few stone steps, too, and an old wooden railing at a few precarious spots. She caught a glimpse of the lake between the trees. Finally, the terrain started to flatten out. Karen could see a clearing and the Faradays’ house ahead.
A crude flagstone path led to the front stoop of the weathered, two-story Cape Cod home. Karen tried to peek inside the windows as she passed. But it was dark in the house, and she couldn’t see anything beyond her own timid reflection.
Strips of yellow police tape with CRIME SCENE-DO NOT CROSS written on them had been taped across the front door. But someone had torn past them, and the loose tape strips now fluttered in the wind. There was also a notice taped to the front door-a green sheet of paper with a police shield logo and CITY OF WENATCHEE POLICE DEPARTMENT along the top. Karen glanced at it. There were two paragraphs of legal jargon, but the last words were in bold print: NO TRESPASSING-VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECTUED.
Obviously, someone else had already ignored those warnings. Karen was about to knock on the front door, but hesitated. If Blade and Amelia were in there, did she really want to announce her arrival?
Biting her lip, Karen tried the doorknob. To her amazement, the door wasn’t locked. Slowly, she opened it. Reaching into her purse, she took out her father’s revolver, and then stepped over the threshold. All the blinds were half drawn, and the windows closed. It was dark and stuffy inside the house. Nearly every stick of furniture had been dusted for fingerprints. A dirt trail covered the carpet and floors, obviously from all the police traipsing in and out of the crime scene. By the fireplace, Karen noticed the rocking chair where Amelia’s father was found. Behind it, she saw the large splotch on the wall, now a rust color. There were bloodstains on the beige carpet, too, beneath the rocker, and also a few feet away, where George’s wife must have been shot. Everything was just as Amelia-and Koehler-had described it.
Karen followed the investigators’ trail toward the kitchen, but abruptly stopped at the sound of something creaking. It seemed to have come from upstairs, but she wasn’t sure. With the gun in her trembling hand, Karen listened and waited for the next little noise. She counted to ten, and didn’t hear anything. She told herself it was just the house settling. She crept into the kitchen. It had gingerbread trim on the shelves and a yellow, fifties-style dinette set. Through the window in the kitchen door, she noticed the yellow police tape again, only this time, it was intact and crisscrossed over the entry.
There was another door in the kitchen, open about two inches. Beyond that, all Karen could see was darkness. She moved the door, and it creaked on the hinges. She froze. Was that the same sound she’d heard earlier?
She gazed at the wood-plank stairs leading down to the pitch-black basement. Turning to look for a light switch by the door, she saw something dart past the kitchen window. Karen gasped. For a moment, she was paralyzed. She didn’t know what to do. It had looked like a person, but she’d only caught a glimpse of her-or him. Whoever it was, they must have been outside, peeking in at her. And they’d moved away from that window so quickly, all Karen had seen was a human-shaped blur.
Clutching the revolver, Karen made her way toward the front door again. She kept checking the windows for whoever was outside the house, but didn’t see anybody. “Amelia?” she called. Karen edged toward the door, which she’d left open. She still had the gun poised. “Amelia, is that you? It’s Karen. Amelia?”
A dog started barking. “Who’s in there?” someone called from outside.
Karen looked out, and saw an older woman with close-cropped gray hair, glasses, and a bulky gray sweater. She had a collie on a leash. “Hush, Abby,” she whispered.
Karen quickly stashed the gun in her purse. “Are you Helene?”
Scowling at her, the old woman nodded. “Are you the one I talked to on the phone earlier?”
“Yes,” she said, catching her breath. “I’m Karen Carlisle, Amelia’s therapist.”
“Well, Amelia must have skedaddled,” Helene said. “No one’s in there. I checked a little while ago.”
Karen closed the door behind her. “You went in there after I warned you not to?”
Helene shrugged. “Why should I listen to you? I don’t even know you. Anyway, the place is empty.” She bent down and scratched her dog behind the ears. “I have no idea when she left. Like I told you on the phone, I saw only Amelia earlier, though it sure sounded like two people were here.”
Karen nodded. She was thinking about the double footprints on the dirt trail that led to the house. “Ms. Sumner, before today, when was the last time you noticed Amelia here?”
“Well, she and that boyfriend of hers were carrying on out by the lake a week ago Monday,” Helene answered, still hovering over her dog.
“The Monday before the shootings?” Karen asked. She was almost certain she’d had a therapy session with Amelia that Monday. “The fifteenth?”
Helene nodded.
“Are you sure?”
Helene nodded again emphatically. “Monday is my shopping day. When you get to be my age, and you live alone, different rituals become like your companion….”
Karen nodded. She knew exactly what the old woman meant, and it scared her a little that she was already becoming so set in her ways.
“So Monday afternoon, before I headed out to the store, I took Abby for a walk, and I saw Amelia and that creepy young man by the lake. The way they were carrying on, I think they might have been doing drugs.”
“What time was this?” Karen asked.
“Smack dab in the middle of the day, around one o’clock.”
Karen shook her head. It didn’t make sense. If she remembered correctly, her appointment with Amelia that Monday had been in the early afternoon. “Are you sure of the time?” she pressed. “Are you sure it was Amelia?”
Frowning, Helene stopped petting her dog and straightened up. “Miss, I may be old. But I’m not senile-not yet, at least.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m almost positive I was with Amelia, in Seattle, around that exact same time.”
Helene scowled at her. “Well, if you were with Amelia on that Monday afternoon, then who was that girl I saw by the lake?”
“Jessie, could you do me a huge favor?” Karen asked. She was in the phone booth by the entrance to Danny’s Diner. “Could you drive over to my place and check something out for me?”
“Now?”
“I know my timing stinks with rush hour about to start, but this is important.”
“Oh, I guess it’s no problem,” Jessie said. “Jody just got home from school. I’m supposed to pick up Steffie from daycare at four anyway. We’ll just keep driving. The kids can meet Rufus. So what do you want me to do over there?”
“I need you to take a look at my appointment book on my desk, and find out if I had a session with Amelia on Monday afternoon, October fifteenth.”
“That’s all? I don’t get to snoop through anything else of yours?”
“Sorry. I just need to confirm that I saw Amelia on that particular day.”
“Monday, the fifteenth,” Jessie repeated. “I’ll check it out, and give you a ring on your cell in about a half hour.”
“Um, cell phones don’t work around here for some reason. I’m in a phone booth. I’ll call you back.”
“Try me at your place in about a half hour. We ought to be there by then.”
