Consider the Crows (27 page)

“Who?”

“The police. Dr. Kalazar's office.” Edie's eyes strayed toward the admin building and back to Carena. “They found her.”

“Dr. Kalazar?”

“In the well,” Edie said with bewilderment. “How do you think they knew?”

Oh dear God. “Wait a minute, Edie. What happened to Dr. Kalazar?”

“She's dead. At the Creighton place. What do they want in her office?”

“I don't know,” Carena said. How could I not have heard about this? “I suppose any pieces they could fit together to explain what happened.”

“Pieces? Dr. Kalazar didn't have pieces. She had everything always all together.”

The old nursery rhyme about Humpty-Dumpty came to Carena's mind.

Edie picked nervously at the Band-Aid on her finger. “You think they'll want to—you know, talk to me? Ask questions?”

“I imagine they probably will. They ask a lot of questions.” No wonder Julie had seemed in such a state of shock. Carena's mind made another nonsensical jump and she murmured, “The frost is on the pumpkin and the fodder's in the shock.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about Julie.” Wishing I hadn't let her go off like that. I should have stayed with her, or taken her home, or bought her a cup of coffee.

“Dr. Kalazar was really angry with her,” Edie was saying.

“With Julie?”

Edie nodded. “About her boyfriend. Sometimes I could hear even when the door was closed. She told Julie she wasn't to see him. Do you think I should tell them?”

I'm a fine one to ask, being myself so honest with the police. “I don't know, Edie. Maybe you should.”

Edie nodded uncertainly and walked off with a worried frown.

Carena got into the Volvo and headed for the supermarket, her mind trying to get a grasp on what Edie'd told her. Audrey's body was found in the well at the Creighton place. Someone had killed Audrey. Who? The same person who killed Lynnelle? It wasn't Caitlin. Caitlin didn't even know Audrey Kalazar.

With the shock and sorrow about Lynnelle's death and the worry over Caitlin, Carena hadn't given a whole lot of thought to Audrey's disappearance. She'd felt, as everybody felt and constantly mentioned, that it was not like Audrey. But Audrey dead? Somehow, Carena couldn't get her mind around it.

At the grocery store, Carena stocked up on dog food, soup, cheese, eggs, breakfast cereal, frozen vegetables and chicken. She loaded the bags in the trunk, wheeled the cart over to a row of others and drove home.

Carrying one bag of groceries, she went gingerly up the slippery walkway between the garage and the house. It should have been shoveled, previously trampled snow had turned to ice. In the screened porch, she heard the phone ringing in the kitchen. Setting down the grocery bag, she fumbled the key in the lock and dashed in.

“Hello.”

Silence.

“Hello?” She heard breathing.

“Hello,” she said again, sharper.

“Carrie?” The voice was faint, tentative.

“Caitlin?”

“They're here again. The dark angels. Singing. They're singing, Carrie.”

“Caitlin, they're not real. They can't hurt you.”

“Soft. And sweet. They want me to come with them. A quiet place. Sleep. In the well. Where it's safe.”

A cold chill gripped her. “Caitlin, where are you?”

“The car.”

“Car phone? Where's the car?”

“The crows. I can feel the crows. They're gathering. I can hear their wings. They scream at me. When I don't listen to the angels.”

“Caitlin, listen to me. You can't hear them if you listen to me.”

“The babies. They're crying. Hanging in the trees.”

“No, Caitlin. I'll help you. I'll come and we'll sing. Loud. You won't hear crying. You have to tell me where you are.”

“You can't help me.”

“Caitlin—”

“You can't see them. A dark angel swinging. I have to fight them. I'm trying, Carrie. Babies hanging on the ropes.”

“Caitlin, where are you?”

“I love you, Carrie.” A click and the line went dead.

Carena broke the connection and started punching in a number, got it wrong and started over.

Phil answered.

“I just got a call from Caitlin.”

“Where is she?”

“In her car somewhere. I thought she was in the hospital.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. Dark angels and crows. Phil, what is going on?”

He was silent for a moment. “She got away.”

“I don't understand.”

“She left the hospital,” he snapped. “Got up and walked out.”

“Didn't they try to stop her? What kind of hospital—”

“They didn't know until she was gone.”

Carena took a deep breath in an attempt to steady her voice. “When did she leave?”

“They don't know for sure. Sometime yesterday evening.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“What could you have done?”

Carena didn't respond. Shrieking at Phil wasn't going to help.

“She's got her car,” he said. “And money. She could be anywhere.”

“What have you done?” Try as she might, accusation leaked into her voice.

“Everything I could.”

“Have you talked with her doctor?”

“Yes. And the police are looking for her. You have any other suggestions?”

“No, Phil. I'm sorry. I'm just worried.”

“So am I,” he said more softly.

“Will you call me when you hear anything?”

He paused, then said tiredly, “Yes.”

Carena hung up. At least, Caitlin was all right.
All right?
A laugh caught in Carena's throat. Hearing singing angels and talking crows? Well, functioning enough to drive and use the phone. The crows hadn't yet convinced her to slice her wrists. Alive then. Not dead or catatonic and curled up somewhere freezing to death.

Pressing her fingertips hard against her temples, Carena tried to recall Caitlin's exact words. Dark angels swinging. That was new. On a vine like Tarzan? Babies crying. Hanging in trees. And something about sleep, a quiet place.
In the well where it's safe.

Oh dear God. Carena jumped up, looked around for her keys and snatched them from the counter by the phone. Alexa got to the door before Carena did and Carena grabbed up the leash, snapped it on the dog's collar and ran out.

She drove crosstown, then headed north, beginning to hear dark angels of her own scrabbling at the back of her mind. Caitlin wasn't violent. She hadn't killed Lynnelle. She hadn't killed Audrey Kalazar. Caitlin could never hurt anybody. Except herself.

Carena pulled into the long driveway, vaguely aware of tire tracks in the snow, and jounced around to the rear of the house. Alexa made little yips of excitement and her tail beat wildly.

“Lynnelle won't be here,” Carena told her softly. “She's never coming back.”

Alexa leaped from the car. Carena took a firm hold on the leash and looked at the house, dark against the gray winter sky. The air felt heavy with the promise of more snow on the way. She was glad of the dog's presence. There was nothing menacing about Alexa, but she was big and she did have big teeth.

Carena tried the front door, then the back. Both were locked. Under the oak tree, she looked at the rope swing and wondered if that's where Caitlin's dark angels were swinging. She gave it a push. “Hear any singing?” she asked the dog. Alexa cocked her head.

The snow on the ground under the tree and across the open space before the woods was scuffed and trampled with trails of footprints, crisscrossed and overlapped. Left by the police activities, Carena thought. If Caitlin was out here somewhere, footprints weren't going to help find her.

Alexa frolicked toward the woods, leaping ahead, getting stopped by the length of the leash, scooping up snow with her nose, tossing it and shaking her head. Under the trees, the snow had a bluish color in the white winter light and Carena followed the layered footprints around trees and to the well. The old weathered boards were gone, replaced by fresh wood with shiny nails. Cautiously, Carena tested one corner with her boot, then she leaned her weight on it. Solid.

It was quiet under the trees, very little wind, occasionally a soft plop as a clump of snow fell from overhead branches. “Caitlin?”

Alexa, busily sniffing at the covered well, looked up at her. The dog seemed happy to be home and didn't behave as though there were anyone else around. Maybe I should turn her loose. Go. Find Caitlin. Hairy angel to the rescue. Her throat tightened around a half-laugh, half-sob.

“Caitlin?” she called again in a thick voice.

Damn it, Caitlin, where the hell are you? Please be safe. Apprehensive at what she might find and remembering Lynnelle's blond curls moving with the stream, Carena slogged to the creek. The muddy bank was frozen hard, the slate-colored water down below trickling endlessly by. Carena took in a breath of cold air. She'd been so afraid of seeing another sodden body.

Dog close by her side, Carena followed the trails of prints and scuffs left by the police, going one way, backtracking and going another. Despite her fleece-lined boots, her feet were cold. Despair pulled at her. She'd better get home. Phil might be trying to call. Maybe Caitlin had been found.

When they got back to the Volvo, the first snowflakes, big fat lazy flakes, started to fall. She opened the door to let the dog in. Alexa raised her head, then barked and Carena heard a car coming up the driveway. It pulled around the house and parked and a man she didn't recognize got out.

“Hello.” He wore a brown suit and dark overcoat. Alexa took one look at him and didn't want to go anywhere near.

“I'm Herbert Ingram. Are you with the police?”

“Carena Egersund.” She waited to see if her name meant anything to him.

He offered a hand to shake, pale against his dark sleeve. “You people told me you were through here and I could start packing up Lynnelle's things.”

Carena nodded at the question in his tone. Ingram. He must be Lynnelle's stepfather. “This is Lynnelle's dog.” Tail drooping, Lexi crowded against her knee.

“Oh yes, the dog,” he said vaguely, looked at Alexa, then shifted his sad brown eyes to Carena.

She was struck by the enormity of the grief she saw there. He did love Lynnelle, she thought, and was somehow relieved by the knowledge.

“You knew her?” he asked.

“Not well.”

“She was such a pretty little girl—” His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat.

Carena felt tears sting her eyes.

“I taught her to ice skate. When she was little.”

“Was she a happy child?”

“Oh yes. Always. Yes.” He smiled with a faraway look on his face. “Until her mother died. She wasn't the same then. She was—almost like she was running away.”

“Children grow up,” she said gently. “They need to live their own lives.”

“She wouldn't come home with me. She wanted to stay here. Here!” He turned to stare at the house. “This is her home, she told me. How could she want to stay here? Look at it.”

He shook his head, one small shake in each direction, then he focused on Carena. His eyes blinked twice, then twice again. “You must forgive me. I keep going back and trying to make it different.” He gave her a weak smile. “And I'm keeping you standing here in the cold. It's difficult to make myself go inside. Was there something you wanted from me?”

“To let you know I have Lynnelle's dog.”

Alexa shifted nervously and gazed up at her with mute appeal.

“The dog,” he repeated as though Alexa had just suddenly appeared. “Might I impose on you to keep it another day or two? Staying at the hotel, you see, there's no place to put it.”

“Yes, of course.”

She was about to give him her phone number when he said, “I do thank you. As soon as possible I'll make arrangements to have it put to sleep.”

You damn well won't. Something of her thoughts must have shown in her face. Herbert's glance sharpened, muscles in his face seemed to tighten as though he suddenly remembered something.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I'm afraid I didn't quite catch your name.”

“Egersund.”

“You're not a police officer. You're the one Lynnelle went to see that night.”

Carena let that hang in the cold air.

“Why did she come to see you?”

“I don't exactly know.”

“What did she say to you?”

Carena wanted to get away and get to a telephone and she'd just as soon he didn't ask her what she was doing here. “Not really anything. She mentioned she was trying to find her biological mother. I don't know why she thought I might be able to help.” When Carena opened the car door, Lexi almost knocked her down scrambling to get in.

The streetlights came on as she was driving home and the snow fell with more seriousness. She drove into the garage, picked up the leash and with the dog at her heels made her way to the house.

Inside, she unsnapped the leash, hung it over the door knob, flicked on the kitchen light, and went right to the phone. No answer from Phil.

She put water on for tea, shrugged off her coat and tossed it over a chair, removed her wet boots and set them on the mat by the door. Alexa barked and Carena shushed her. When the kettle whistled, she put tea bags in the pot and poured water in.

At the table, she sipped peppermint tea and waited for the phone to ring. Snow collected on the window ledge and frost made patterns on the outside of the glass. She tried to call again, made another pot of tea and turned the radio on low. Every time she moved, Alexa jumped up, watched her and then lay back down with a sigh. Her restlessness was affecting the dog. Lexi barked again, went to her empty bowl and looked up hopefully.

“Food. You want your dinner.” She put the bowl on the counter, stooped to get dog food and found a bare shelf. Oh damn, the groceries were in the trunk. Probably have frozen milk. She'd left one sackful on the screened porch, just outside the door. She retrieved it and plunked it on the table. With a sigh, she put on her coat and boots and slipped out to the porch, fending off the dog so she couldn't escape. Alexa barked furiously.