“Mind if I watch?” Kara said as we entered my bedroom.
Merlot and Syrah had the same idea and were already sitting on the bed.
“It’s up to you whether you want an audience, Jillian,” Candace said.
“I guess I don’t mind,” I said, though I really did. But saying no to Kara seemed to be as difficult for me as it had been for John. “Guess you want me to take off my shirt, Candace?”
“That’s right.” Candace surveyed my room. She walked over and closed the door that led to the master bath. “Stand in front of the door. The lighting will be right.”
Candace proceeded to photograph my bruised neck, the blue marks on my biceps where the man had lifted me off my feet and the red abrasions on both wrists. My ankles hadn’t been bound as tightly as my wrists, and there were no marks there. All the scrapes and bruises on my legs had come from my trek to the professor’s house through the fields.
As I was putting my T-shirt back on, Kara said, “When I write my book about these murders and if it turns out Jillian’s attacker was involved, can I get copies of those photos?”
“Not my call,” Candace said brusquely. “As of now, these pictures are part of an ongoing investigation.”
“I see,” Kara said.
“This guy wore gloves the entire time?” Candace asked me.
“Yes,” I said. I motioned to the cats. “Come on, boys. Time for wet food.”
We all walked back toward the kitchen, but Candace stopped. “Wait a minute. He wore a black ski mask, right?”
“Right,” I said.
“And he was holding the very red- haired Merlot when you came in the room?” she said.
“You think he left fiber evidence on Merlot?” I said.
“I better check him out.” Candace had put her case on the sofa and now took out a pair of latex gloves, a large magnifying glass and a pair of long tweezers.
So while Syrah ate his salmon dinner and Merlot chomped down on his grilled beef, Candace sat next to him on the floor with her magnifying glass. She examined his long red coat one section at a time.
Kara stood above Candace, watching with interest.
I opened the fridge for some sweet tea and was surprised to discover that my refrigerator had become a foreign country. Candace had made lunch, so I hadn’t looked in here since Kara went to the store. I saw a half dozen prepackaged containers of sushi rolls and enough Red Bull to energize a pro football team. It reminded me of when Kara had come to spend Christmas with John and me and always filled the fridge with some kind of new and trendy food. Thank goodness for the whole deli chicken and containers of potato salad and olives. I wasn’t a sushi fan.
I asked if anyone wanted a drink but got no reply, so I shrugged and poured myself a glass of tea.
Candace’s “Aha” came seconds later. She leaned back and held up her tweezers. From where I stood across the kitchen I couldn’t see anything, but I assumed she’d found a teensy thread in all that fur.
She said, “Ski masks may be good at concealing faces, but they shed almost as much as Merlot here.”
“Really?” Kara said.
“It’s near impossible to come into someone’s house and not leave evidence of your presence behind. Take you, for instance: long dark hair, obviously colored. Hard not to leave any of those hairs around. Some of them could even contain your DNA.” Candace looked at me. “Would you mind getting an envelope out of my case? You know the ones I use.”
When I brought her the small paper envelope, I also brought her a pen. I knew the routine.
Candace placed her tiny, fuzzy black fiber in the envelope and wrote the date, time and where she’d found the fiber on the front. Then she stood. “I’ll check the sofa to see if there are any more of these.”
She came up empty there and said, “I doubt the rain left us any nice tire tracks, especially since other vehicles have driven in and out of your driveway since the event. But did you hear anything after the door slammed? The sound of an engine, maybe?”
“The event? It wasn’t exactly a rock concert.” Then I felt awful for being sarcastic. “Sorry. Guess I’m still a little on edge. To be honest, I wasn’t paying attention.” I finished off my tea and said, “I was just glad he left. But something has me wondering-guess it was the food in the fridge that sparked something in my head. How did he know he’d find me alone?”
“The food? What are you talking about?” Kara said.
“You were at the store,” I said. “How did someone know you wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon?”
Candace shook her head. “The bad guy might not have even known she was staying here. He got lucky is all.”
“But what if he did know?” I said. “If this was an activist, he’s probably not working alone. Someone could have been following Kara, too.”
“No way,” Kara said. “I would have noticed.”
“Not if they were good,” Candace said.
“That settles it.” Kara made a beeline for the back door and went outside.
Candace said, “What’s with her?”
“Don’t know,” I answered, “but I’m guessing she’s not fleeing in terror.”
And she wasn’t. Kara came back inside a minute later, making sure to wipe her feet on the mat by the door. She held something wrapped in navy felt and lifted the fabric for Candace’s inspection.
Candace stepped back when she looked inside. “Is that loaded?”
“Yes. I was traveling alone. I have the right to protect myself,” Kara said.
I was shocked but spoke as calmly as I could. “I have rights, too, and this is my home. I want you to unload that gun,” I said. “You might accidentally shoot one of my cats. Or me.”
Kara looked at me like I had a screw loose. “Are you crazy, Jillian? Someone came into your house and threatened you. Someone might be following me, so-”
“And that’s why I’m here. For protection,” Candace said evenly. “Jillian has asked you to unload your.38 snubnose or put it back where you got it.”
“From what Tom told me,” Kara said, “ South Carolina has the same law that Texas does-the right to carry a loaded handgun in a concealed place like the glove box.”
“Without a permit. I know,” Candace said. “But it’s not in the glove box now. So please do as Jillian asked.”
“Is the safety on?” I said, still horrified at her bringing a gun into my house. Handguns can hurt their owners, too, and I was worried about Kara carrying that thing around.
“Revolvers don’t have safeties,” they both said in unison.
“Even more reason to get that thing out of here,” I said.
“Fine, but I wanted both of you to know I have this. No one is about to intimidate me. No one.” She rewrapped the gun, whirled and went back outside.
Candace shook her head, her expression troubled. “John’s daughter has issues, Jillian.”
“But John’s daughter happens to be my family. Can you be nice to her? For me?” I asked.
“I’ll try, but you be careful, ’cause I can guarantee you I won’t be turning my back on her.”
Seventeen
The next day, I made pancakes for all three of us. When given the choice of sleeping on the couch, downstairs with a bunch of cats and their litter box or in my king-size bed with me, Candace had chosen my room. I’d told her she shouldn’t feel the need to stay that close to me, but she’d laughed and said her choice was all about comfort.
Though Kara complained that the “overloaded with carbs” breakfast would make her bleary for the rest of the day, she ate twice as many pancakes as Candace did. And that’s a lot of pancakes. Would she have to double up on her Red Bull today? And would I need extra coffee?
When we were finished, I decided to be proactive, take more of a motherly role, and suggested that Kara do
