up by the Port Gamble Police. The twins were watching TV downstairs, not talking to each other. Taylor resented Hayley and Colton for going off on a Jake dirt-finding mission without her. Not cool. And there was no saying when they would forgive each other. One time, they didn’t talk for five days—and that was over a sweater that Hayley had stained with cranberry juice.
BETH: MOM’S DORKY FRIEND NINA WORKS THERE. SAYS JAKE WZ WANTED ON AN OUTSTNDNG WARRANT 4 DUI.
TAYLOR: DID THEY ARREST HIM FOR KILLING K?
BETH: NO. NOT YET. NINA SAYS THAT HE’S BEEN ?ED BOUD STLKNG HER, BUT HE DENIED IT.
HAYLEY: HE’S SUCH A LIAR!
BETH: YEAH, BUT KIND OF QT.
TAYLOR: OMG, U THINK A SLEZ GUY LYK THAT IS QT?
BETH: DON’T BLAME ME. I ¦ ME A BAD BOY.
Hayley turned to her sister and they burst out laughing.
“Can you believe her?” Hayley asked.
“No,” Taylor said, her smile fading. “And I’m still kind of mad at you.”
SAVANNAH OSTEEN CRAWLED ONTO HER COUCH knowing she had made a very big mistake. She pulled an old poly-filled comforter up to her neck and allowed her tears to tumble.
Whenever she told anyone about her sister’s death, it was like the creation of a fresh wound—a rusty knife into her stomach. Hurt poured out of her. Regret, shame, and guilt too.
Savannah could never let go of her sister and how she’d loved her more than anyone—more than her mother, father, older brothers. When Serena came home from the hospital, it was like getting a real-life baby doll. She was pink. Straight-haired.
To lose Serena as Savannah had and to have missed the opportunity to save her was a tragic event that shaped the rest of her life. She quit the university, got involved in drugs, and went from boyfriend to boyfriend. She’d only come out of the darkness the year before she posted the response on the Kitsap Kalamities website.
Curled up with the comforter, Savannah knew she had made a grave error sharing that videotape with the reporter, but she couldn’t help herself. She had wanted to tell somebody for the longest time. Someone who didn’t know her and wouldn’t judge her.
In doing so, she had unleashed something that she hadn’t meant to.
Just then she made a decision. Her pity party was over. Savannah threw off the comforter, dried her tears, went to her computer, and found Kevin Ryan’s website. She hit the CONTACT button. An e-mail window opened and she started typing a message.
She hoped that it wasn’t too late.
A MESSAGE FROM THE WASHINGTON STATE CRIME LAB was waiting for Dr. Waterman when she returned to her desk from her autopsy suite. The note made absolutely no sense. She dialed the lab and got a tech on the phone.
“The pregnancy test kit you sent in with Ramstad came back negative, no presence of hCG. Picked up a trace of blood, though. We typed it though, AB. Nada else,” said the lab tech, a cheerful woman named Paris who always made sure that everyone knew she was named for the French capital, not the plaster.
Dr. Waterman slid her glasses down her nose as she searched for the Ramstad folder.
“There must be an error,” she said.
“Nope. Pretty clear. That gunshot victim, Robin, wasn’t pregnant.”
“I should hope not,” Birdy said.
“What’s with that?” the tech said.
“She’d be the first man to have a baby.”
Paris wasn’t so sure. “What about that guy in Oregon? The one I saw on
Birdy knew what she was referring to but ignored the impulse to say another word. Instead, she thanked Paris and hung up, a flash of recognition coming to her. She moved her hands over her desk, feeling the covering of file folders for the pregnancy kit that Mrs. Berkley had waved at her when she came to the morgue.
It was nowhere to be found.
She didn’t know whether to fire him or hug him right then. His error was an answer to a tormented mother’s prayers.
Dr. Waterman felt so relieved. In a job that seemed only to relay the worst possible news to a loved one (“ten broken ribs” or “sixtyone stab wounds to the chest” or “strangled with a bungee cord”), she had something that would bring comfort, not additional pain. Sandra Berkley would be comforted to know that Katelyn hadn’t cut her out of every important thing in her life. Dr. Waterman immediately phoned her and explained how her assistant’s mistake had inadvertently brought information that she thought would console her.
At least a little bit.
“Are you sure about this?” Sandra asked, clearly overjoyed that her daughter had not hidden a pregnancy.
The forensic pathologist said she was positive.
“I only have one question …”
“I know the question, but I don’t have the answer. Whoever thought she was pregnant was AB. That’s about all I can say.”
IT WAS EARLY EVENING. The Ryans’ dinner table had been cleared and the girls were upstairs doing their schoolwork, though Hayley said she really didn’t have any.
“I’ll just do some sympathy homework for you, Tay,” she said, trying to worm her way back into her sister’s good graces.
Taylor begrudgingly thanked her. She had to write a paper for art class.
“Can’t you just do a drawing or something?” Hayley asked.
“I wish. I thought art would be easy. This teacher is actually making us write papers on technique. I’m doing mine on chiaroscuro.”
“Yum … I love churros,” Hayley teased.
Downstairs, things were quiet. Valerie had gone out to gas up her car so she wouldn’t have to do it in the morning, and Kevin went into his office to catch up on e-mail.
He was pleased to see two fan letters in his in-box. The first was from a woman in Alabama who said she’d never written to a “real life” author in her entire life, but after reading Kevin’s
The next one was from S. Osteen. Her tone was too familiar for a mere fan letter, which he instantly knew it was not.
From: S. Osteen
To: Kevin Ryan
RE: WARNING!
Mr. Ryan, hopefully you remember me. I observed your girls for the linguistics project from the U. I’m Savannah Osteen. I have done something terrible, and I wanted to warn you. I apologize for it, and I truly hope no harm comes to you or your family. I showed a reporter named Moira Windsor a tape I made when I was there filming your girls. Maybe you know what was on that tape. Maybe you don’t. I know Mrs. Ryan does. Please forgive me.
Kevin could feel his heart sinking. He hit the PRINT button on his computer and fumbled for an aspirin in case
