“Do you need a psychologist?” asked Emma.
Harley looked from her to Jamie with questions in her eyes.
Jamie asked, “What do you mean, Emma?”
“Harley slept very late. She could be suicidal.”
“No!” Jamie gasped.
“No way!” Harley said at the same time.
“You said suicide,” Emma pointed out to Harley. “I don’t want you to die.” She shot Harley a worried glance before her eyes slid away. Her chest was starting to heave.
“I was talking about Gwen. Ms. Winkelman, or whatever. Mom’s friend. Not about me. I just feel bad about her.” Harley looked at Jamie through the tangle of her hair, which she swept back with one hand. Her eyes were red. “And I feel bad about everything.”
Emma darted a look at Jamie and raised her brows. “Suicidal.”
“No, Emma. I feel bad, too, and neither Harley nor I is suicidal. We’re just dealing with our emotions. Sometimes we feel really bad, really sad.”
Emma nodded gravely, then asked, “Can I have my money now? I think I’m ready to go to Ridge Pointe.”
“We need to work some things out first,” Jamie said, sorry she’d twigged Emma to the supposed nest egg. “I, um, made a decision and I want to talk to both of you about it.” She told them of her conversation with Teddy Ryerson about babysitting the twins from their house. She finished with, “Emma, I know you said you don’t like Teddy and Serena, but Oliver and Anika are seven-year-olds who need a babysitter.”
Harley’s eyes moved from Jamie to Emma, but she said nothing, merely spooned up more cereal.
“I like kids,” said Emma.
“Good.” Jamie was relieved.
“Are you going to have sex with Cooper Haynes again?” Emma asked.
Harley’s eyes swung back to Jamie, who dodged with, “Emma, that’s pretty personal.”
Emma thought hard for a moment, then said, “I don’t think it was him who came back.”
Jamie studied her sister. Her head was cocked, as if she were really working things out. “Do you mean when you told me ‘they came back’? As in the night you were babysitting?”
She nodded slowly. “It wasn’t Cooper Haynes. But it was one of ’em.”
Jamie’s mouth was dry. Cooper had told her that Dug Douglas had gone back to the Ryerson house that night, but he’d denied seeing Emma again. He’d also told her that Race had seen someone in the area in a ski mask. Carefully, Jamie asked, “Was he wearing a . . . ski mask?”
“No.”
“No mask at all?” Jamie queried.
“No.” She drew a breath and turned away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Jamie racked her brain for a way to further the conversation but then glanced at the clock and became more practical. “Harley’s having cereal, but what about . . . lunch?”
Emma stopped. “Pasta?”
“I’ll make some spaghetti. I think I have everything for that.”
“That’s for dinner. Come on, Duchess!” And she headed toward the back door.
Harley asked, “Are you sleeping with Mr. Haynes?” once they were alone.
“You heard what I told Emma. That’s personal.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
* * *
When Cooper’s phone rang, he didn’t recognize the number. He wondered if it might be Nadine Campbell, but it didn’t seem like the number he’d called earlier. When he answered, the caller identified herself as Hillary Campion.
“You gave me your card,” she reminded him.
He was surprised and seized on the opportunity. “At the hospital. You’re Deke’s girlfriend.”
“Yes . . . that’s right.” She sounded so careful that he hadn’t immediately equated her voice with the hostile one from the hospital, where he’d handed her the card.
“I heard that the psychologist died,” she went on. “Winkelman. Deke went to her a time or two. I heard your name. You found her.”
“That’s true.” Cooper looked at the time on his phone. He walked quickly to his office in search of pen and paper. The fact that Deke’s girlfriend had called him after blowing him off, half-blaming him for Deke’s death, was big.
“What happened to her?” she asked.
“We don’t know yet. We’re looking into it,” he said, grabbing up a small notepad and pen.
“Man, what happened to her?” she demanded, bristling. “Tell me the truth. Was she killed?”
He thought about fobbing her off, throwing out evasions, but he knew that wouldn’t fly if he wanted something more from her. “It could be an accident. Possible suicide.”
She laughed without humor. “Suicide? Bullshit. She was too sane. Weird, Deke said, but sane. No suicide. Tell me the truth. Who killed her?”
“Ms. Campion, if I had anything more to tell you, I would. I don’t even know what killed her yet.”
She thought that over for a moment. “You tell me when you find out.”
“I will,” he promised, then asked, “Would you talk to me about Deke?”
“I don’t know, mister. He asked me to keep his secrets, and I’ve been keeping them.”
“I just want to understand his relationship to Emma Whelan. I didn’t know Deke but for a few hours. What I do know is that a lot of people want the truth to come out after they’re gone. Was Deke that kind of man?”
“Deke didn’t like the police much.” She inhaled and exhaled. “But he did like that messed-up girl . . . woman. Made me jealous of her sometimes, except she wanted nothing to do with him anymore.”
“Anymore?”
Another lengthy pause, and then she said, “You know the Logger Room? It was Deke’s place.”
“I know it.”
“Meet me there in an hour. I’ll tell you about Deke and her, what he told me anyway.”
“I’ll be there,” Cooper told her. “Do you want . . .” But she’d already hung up.
It wouldn’t take him much more than twenty minutes to get to the Logger Room, but he grabbed his coat and headed out anyway.
* * *
Harley said, looking at her phone, “There’s this whole thing about the ‘River Glen Knifer’ and Jesus, Mom . . . they’ve brought up the ‘Babysitter Stalker’ and the attack on Emma!”
They
