morning. God knows why Grand Coulee Dam. But she’s on her way here now. If all goes well, we should be back in Seattle before ten.” She sighed. “Anyway, I’m worried about Jessie and the kids. Have you heard from her?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m trying to get home. Jessie called a little while ago. I think something’s wrong at the house.”
“What do you mean?”
“Steffie had an asthma attack. She’s supposed to be okay now. But I’m not sure Jessie’s telling me the whole story.”
“She called from your house?” Karen asked.
“Yeah-”
“And Jessie didn’t say anything to you about running into Amelia at my place this afternoon?”
“But I thought you said Amelia’s been at Grand Coulee Dam all day.”
“She has been.” Karen told him about Jessie’s brush with
“No, she didn’t say anything-”
“Did she mention that Shane is dead?”
“Oh, no,” George murmured. “God, no, she didn’t….”
“The police think he shot himself,” she said sadly.
“Jesus, Karen, what’s going on?”
“I told Jessie to take the kids and check in at a hotel,” she explained. “It doesn’t make any sense that she’d go back to your house. George, something’s wrong.”
“Well, maybe she just got a little mixed up with everything that’s happening,” he said. “Plus, Jessie has a family emergency of her own, too. She has to take off for Denver tonight. Her sister’s very sick. It sounds serious.”
For a moment, Karen couldn’t say anything.
“George,” she whispered, at last, “I’m sorry, but Jessie doesn’t have a sister.”
“I’ve called ahead and chartered a plane,” George said. “I should be at the Salem airport in about five minutes. I’ll call you when I land in Seattle. That should be at around eight-thirty. Can you stick around until then, Jessie?”
“Yes, that’s fine,” she said into the phone the young man held to her ear. He listened in on George’s cordless. Jessie was still strapped to the chair, with her hands taped behind her. She’d lost some of the feeling in her arms.
“Any updates on your sister?” George asked.
“No. I was just about to call them,” she replied.
“Is it your sister Estelle, the one with Alzheimer’s?”
Jessie hesitated. He somehow knew this was a setup. “Yes, it’s Estelle,” she said, going along with the fake name George had picked. “I’m really worried the old girl won’t last the night,” she said carefully.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Jessie,” he replied. “Well, I’ll be there soon, unless you want me to send someone else over there to take over.”
His Majesty shook his head at her.
“No, I–I can hold down the fort until you get here.”
“Could I talk to Steffie? Or is she still asleep?”
“Sorry, George, she’s still napping.” Jessie glanced up at the young man. Behind him, through the living room window’s sheer drapes, she could see someone walking up the McMillans’ driveway. Jessie couldn’t tell who it was. The person was too far away. With his back to the living room, the man in the dark glasses hadn’t noticed yet.
“What about Jody?” George was saying on the other end of the line. “Could you put him on the phone for a second?”
Jessie’s throat went dry. “Um, I–I’m sorry, George, he’s in the bathroom. He just stepped in the shower.” She watched the woman approaching the front door now. It was George’s neighbor from across the street, a sixty- something divorcee named Sally Bidwell. She was thin with short silver hair and wore a black pantsuit. She’d been out of town at the time of George’s wife’s death, but had been over twice this week to see if they needed anything. George had told Jessie that Mrs. Bidwell had an extra key to the house in case Jessie ever got locked out.
As she came closer to the house, Mrs. Bidwell stopped and stood on her tiptoes so she could peek into the living room window.
Jessie tried not to stare at her. She didn’t want His Majesty to see they had a visitor.
“Well, it looks like I struck out again,” George said. “But they’re both doing okay, Jess?”
“Yes, George,” she said. “For now, they’re okay.”
“Thank you, Jessie. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
The man started pushing the phone harder against her face. “Hurry up,” he mouthed.
“Okay, George,” she said. “Good-bye.”
The man in the sunglasses quickly hung up the phone, then clicked off the cordless. “‘For now, they’re okay?’ What’s that shit? Was that your way of telling him something’s wrong?”
Jessie just helplessly shook her head at him. She glanced toward the living room window again, but didn’t see Mrs. Bidwell.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
The young man quickly snatched his revolver from the kitchen counter and crept over toward the front door. The doorbell rang again.
Jessie heard a muffled cry coming from Jody’s room.
His back pressed against the wall, the man waited. He had the gun drawn. He seemed very calm and cool, or maybe it was just because Jessie couldn’t read his expression behind those sunglasses.
Outside, Mrs. Bidwell backed away from the door. Craning her neck, she stood on her tiptoes again and tried to get another look into the living room window. Squirming in the chair, Jessie wondered if Mrs. Bidwell could see her though the sheer drapes. She held her breath and watched the young man reach over for the door handle.
Mrs. Bidwell lingered on the front stoop, trying to peek inside the house.
Because the Lake Wenatchee shootings had been such big news, the McMillans had endured their share of snoops this week. Jessie had seen a few driving down the cul-de-sac to catch a glimpse of the house, and others actually came right up to the house and tried to peek into the windows. In contrast, there were also several nice neighbors who had stopped by with flowers, casseroles, and condolences, Mrs. Bidwell among them. But she’d always struck Jessie as a bit over-solicitous and meddling.
At this point, Jessie wasn’t sure if she wanted Mrs. Bidwell to see anything or not. She figured George would know how to handle this. But she didn’t trust Mrs. Bidwell.
Finally, the woman shrugged her shoulders and turned around.
Jessie let out a sigh.
The man in the sunglasses moved over to the edge of the living room window, and he peered outside.
Through the sheer curtains, Jessie watched Mrs. Bidwell walk back up the driveway. But then she stopped and glanced inside the car for a moment. She turned toward the house again.
The man ducked back, and the sheer curtain fluttered.
Mrs. Bidwell stared at the window for a few moments. Then she took another few steps toward the house again. Pausing for a moment, she reached into her purse. Then she continued down the driveway past the front walkway, toward the back door. Jessie couldn’t see her through the living room window anymore.
The man darted back into the kitchen. Swiping a dishtowel off the counter, he turned toward Jessie and grabbed her by the hair. Jessie struggled as he stuffed the dishtowel in her mouth. Helplessly, she watched him scurry over to the back door.
The neighbor knocked a few times. And then Jessie heard the door lock being manipulated. Mrs. Bidwell was using the spare key. Jessie wanted to scream out a warning, but she couldn’t.
The kitchen door opened. “Hello?” Mrs. Bidwell called, stepping into the kitchen. “George? Anyone home?”
The young man waited on the other side of the door with his gun ready. Mrs. Bidwell couldn’t see him, but
