Don

'Lately more painful than wonderful.' Her headache was getting worse. She rubbed her neck.

'Tension headache?'

'I'm afraid so.'

Ruth gave her a sympathetic smile. 'I barged in on you before you even had a chance to get dressed. Why don't you take a couple of aspirins and a hot shower? You'll feel like a new woman. I'll be on my way.'

'Oh, don't go,' Natalie said, suddenly hating the idea of being alone with Kenny's calls fresh in her mind. 'I'd love to talk with you more. I'll make the shower quick.'

'Well, if you're sure you'd like for me to stay…'

'I am.'

'Then take as long in the shower as you like. I'll have another cup of coffee.'

Natalie went into the small bathroom beside her bedroom. She stood in the shower stall letting the hot water massage her stiff neck muscles for at least five minutes. She was rinsing shampoo out of her hair when Ruth tapped on the bathroom door.

'Natalie!'

She turned off the water. 'Yes?'

'You just got a call from your friend Lily. She wants you to meet her. She says it's urgent.'

In two minutes Natalie stood in the hall wearing an old terry cloth robe she'd found in the depths of her closet and a towel on her wet hair. 'I was standing on the terrace with Blaine,' Ruth explained. 'The phone rang twice and of course I knew the machine would pick up. Lily left her message. When I heard her say urgent I rushed in, but she'd already hung up.'

The light on the answering machine blinked twice. Natalie pushed the play button. The first message was Kenny's. Then a breathless female voice began. 'Natalie, it's Lily. Are you there? I'm at Tamara's. Meet me here. It's urgent.'

'My goodness, she sounds half frantic,' Ruth said.

'Yes. She didn't even wait for me to answer if I'd heard the call. I'd better hurry.'

Ruth frowned. 'Dear, do you think it's safe for you to go to Tamara's?'

'Safe?'

'Yes. The two people who lived in that house were murdered and Lily doesn't say what's wrong.'

'Tamara and Warren weren't murdered in the house and Lily wouldn't ask me to come to a dangerous place.'

Ruth looked concerned. 'I'm not sure your father would want you to go.'

'Dad would like for me to sit in the house and watch TV. But Lily needs me, Ruth. I have to go.'

'I see I can't stop you,' she said unhappily. 'I want you to be careful, though. With all these awful murders, no one is safe.' She paused. 'I do wish you would give this a second thought. A lovely young woman wandering around by herself. Anything could happen. The world has turned into a dangerous place…'

Ruth continued to warn and fret until Natalie handed the woman her purse and nearly pushed her out the door. Then she rushed back to her room, slipped on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, ran a wide-toothed comb through her wet hair, and pulled it back with a large clasp. She grabbed her shoulder bag and headed for the front door.

Blaine sat in the hall looking at her expectantly. 'I'm sorry, girl. I promised you a walk this morning but something has come up.' She opened the door, surprised by the cool air that wafted over her. A gray sky hung low like the lid on a box. She reached for a denim jacket hanging on the coat tree. Then she looked at Blaine again.

'I don't know why Lily wants me to go to Tamara's,' she said. 'You might be in the way, but I have this odd feeling…' The dog turned in excited circles as Natalie picked up her leash. 'I don't want to go out there alone. It's your lucky day.'

Blaine sat quiet and poised on the front seat, looking with interest at everything whizzing by. She left nose prints on the side window. Natalie flipped on the radio and stroked the dog's head as Linda Ronstadt's 'Blue Bayou' played.

When she reached Tamara's house, she was surprised to find the driveway empty. No red Corvette. Maybe Lily had been delayed or had to leave suddenly.

She pulled in the driveway. Blaine jumped out behind her. Natalie held her leash although the dog clearly wasn't going off on her own. They climbed the porch steps. No note on the door. Feeling as guilty as a thief, Natalie turned the doorknob. Locked. She moved to the side and peered through the picture window into the living room. A book lay splayed on an end table as if someone had just put it down and would be right back. Only a week ago Tamara and Warren had lived in this house, Natalie thought. They'd slept, eaten, talked about their days, and now they were both dead. Not just dead-murdered, their throats slashed.

Soon other people would live in this house. Their furniture, their pictures, their clothing would replace the Hunts'. But some essence of Tamara and Warren would always linger here. No one would ever forget what had happened to them.

Natalie stepped off the porch and walked around the house. In Columbus, the daffodils and tulips already had disappeared, but here some faded blooms remained in Tamara's flowerbeds. Poppies and impatiens were just coming up. On the deck sat a glass-topped table with an umbrella. The green-and-white vinyl seat covers matched that of the glider and rocker. An expensive gas grill rested nearby. Leaves brought down in the storm the night Tamara was murdered littered the deck. If she had lived, every leaf would have been gone by noon the next day. Dear, meticulous Tam.

Tam. On the answering machine Lily had said Tamara but Natalie could not remember Lily ever calling her sister anything except Tam. Either my memory is faulty or Lily was really upset, Natalie thought. What on earth could be wrong?

She looked beyond the lawn to Hyacinth Lane. The dirt road was only visible for about a hundred yards until trees and vines obscured it from view. Her gaze drifted skyward.

Vultures.

'Oh, my God!' she cried, the image of Tamara's ravaged face flashing through her mind. 'Lily!'

Natalie ran toward the road. She'd dropped Blaine's leash, but the dog galloped along beside her without a moment's hesitation. The last time Natalie had been out on this road, Blaine had run ahead to show her where Tamara's body lay. Today she thought if the dog ran ahead, then started furiously barking, she would faint.

Dirt and gravel crunched under her Reeboks. Much too soon her breath grew short. She used to run daily but had abandoned the routine months ago. Now she was out of shape. Blaine pulled ahead, then dropped back as if she sensed Natalie's need for a companion.

Natalie tried to keep her eyes straight ahead, but they drifted up again. The ugly birds circled. At least they weren't feasting. Yet.

A wave of nausea and breathlessness forced her to slow down. She was close now, but close to what? Oh, please don't let it be Lily, she prayed.

She saw a gray-white heap in the middle of the road. A hairy gray-white heap with a long bare rat-like tail. A dead opossum.

Natalie stopped abruptly and her vision blurred. She bent over, hands on knees, and drew deep, slow breaths. First she thought she would faint from fear. Now she thought she might faint from relief.

Blaine barked and drew closer. Natalie's head shot up. A man stopped in front of them, looking at Blaine with caution.

'I just wanted to see if you were all right,' he said.

His voice was familiar. Natalie wiped away the perspiration dripping from her forehead into her eyes and blinked. Tall. Slender. Dark blond hair curling over the collar of his denim shirt. The man she'd met in Lily's store.

'Jeff Lindstrom?'

He smiled. 'You remembered.' He looked at Blaine. 'Will you tell Lassie I'm harmless?'

'Her name is Blaine. She's very protective.' Natalie was not sure this was true, although the dog was showing protective tendencies, but she suddenly recalled that the night Charlotte Bishop had been murdered she was seen arguing with a man who fit Jeff's description. She did not touch the dog, hoping Blaine would maintain her tense stance. 'What are you doing out here?'