“I remember. When is it?” she asked anxiously.
“Actually, it’s today. He wants me to run up to New York and meet with this guy at Le Bernardin for lunch, and then I’ll be right back home.”
“You’re going to leave me alone here?” she cried.
“No, of course not. I’ll get someone to stay with you. I’ll call around. Maybe Birdie can come over. Leave my mother for a little while.”
“Birdie. She’s a frail, old lady. What’s she going to do if he comes back?” Emma cried.
“Who?”
Tears welled in Emma’s eyes.
“Is that what you’re worried about?” he asked. “The guy with the ski mask? Honey, he’s not going to come here. Look, the greatest likelihood is that he’s some nut who picked you at random. We can’t be afraid to live our lives.”
“You don’t know that. I could be a target. What about all those notes I got? And that disgusting wedding present. It could all be the same person. Besides, you’re not the one who was attacked. The one whose life is in danger.”
“You don’t have to remind me of that,” he said quietly.
Emma looked at him balefully. “David,” she said, “couldn’t Nevin get someone else? Doesn’t he know what happened to me?”
David ran his hand over his unruly hair. “I guess we didn’t make the news in New York. You know the Big Apple. If it didn’t happen there, it didn’t happen.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to him?” she asked. “I was almost killed.”
“I’ll tell him about it,” said David, like a child promising to do a chore. “But knowing Nevin, he won’t care anyway. He’s not interested in my problems. He’s interested in my getting this interview. And I’m lucky he assigned it to me.”
“But today? Does it have to be today?”
“Believe me, I would rather not do it today. But the guy is only going to be in New York for a day or two.”
“Well fine. You go then,” she said petulantly. “And I’ll tell Lizette Slocum that I need her to stay here after all. At least she knows something about self-defense. It’s a good thing my mother was concerned about me.”
David frowned at her. “What does that mean? That I’m not? I wouldn’t have left you alone. Of course I wouldn’t.”
Emma ignored his protest. “I think I am going to call Lieutenant Atkins and tell her about the…wedding gift. I had nightmares all night about opening that box. I kept dreaming that it was sent by the man in the mask.”
“I know you did. You were restless all night,” he said.
Emma could see the dark circles under his eyes, and immediately she felt guilty. “David, I just…I feel like the police need to know about this.”
“But, baby, you know what Mr. Yunger said. We can’t talk to the police. I thought we agreed that we were not going to talk to them.”
Emma stared at him. “I never agreed.”
David looked at her ruefully and then looked away.
“I have to call them, David,” she said.
“You don’t get it, Emma. They’re not looking at anybody else but me.”
“Well, this will give them somewhere else to look,” she insisted. Then she hesitated. “What’s that? Do you hear water running?”
David frowned, got up off the bed, and looked out the door. Lizette had found a watering can under the sink and was filling it. “I thought I’d water your plants before they all died,” she said.
David shook his head and turned back to Emma. “Lizette is watering the plants.”
“They do need it,” Emma said with a wry smile. She extended a hand to him, but he did not reach for it. She pulled it back. “David, the wedding present may have fingerprints or something. Something that could help the police find the man who attacked me.”
“Do what you have to do,” he said. “I’m going to get ready.”
Stung by his rebuff, Emma started to pull herself up and ease her bandaged legs out of the bed. Every movement was torture.
“Just a minute,” said David. “What are you doing?”
“I need to get my pills,” she said.
“I’ll get your pills for you,” he said.
“I don’t want to depend on you,” she said stubbornly.
David stared at her for a long minute. “Thanks, Emma,” he said. “That’s just great.”
A
UDIE
O
SMUND’S
stiff joints told him what the dark, lowering sky also portended. A storm was on its way. The wind whipped leaves around the desolate clearing where the Zamskys’ cabin stood. The crime scene tape was still up around the perimeter of the place, but Audie batted it away like a pesky fly. He climbed the few steps and opened the cabin door, stepping inside. Audie grimaced as he looked around. The walls and floor were still stained with blood, and the smell of putrefaction hung in the air.
He kept returning to this place, walking through the crime in his mind. The killer had taken the ax, which was out on the woodpile. According to the young lady, Emma, her husband had left it there when he was chopping wood. The ax was no longer there. The forensic team from the state police had bagged it and taken it away.
The killer had climbed these stairs and come into the house. Waited, hidden, until Emma entered the main room, and made a fire, lit the candles. Audie scratched his head, thinking about the first blows that were struck. She had been on the floor, near the edge of sofa. The splintered remains of the canoe paddle, with which she had tried to protect herself, also had been bagged up and removed by the state police.
Audie shook his head, thinking about it. She fought back, Audie thought. She was one tough little lady. She even managed to get a hold of the dead hunter’s gun and shoot at the guy. How many women would have the presence of mind to do that? he wondered.
Of course her bravery wasn’t any help to Claude Mathis, whose funeral was tomorrow. Tomorrow Audie would have to face Claude’s family and admit he was no closer to an arrest than he had been on the night Claude had been killed.
Audie didn’t see a lot of killings in his part of the Pine Barrens. Last year a guy got drunk in a bar and shot his cousin. And two domestic disturbances ended in homicide in the last few years. Well, three, if you counted Shannon O’Brien, the pretty little Irish girl who “disappeared” one night after working her shift at a local gas station. Audie thought of that as a domestic because her boyfriend, Turk, was a known drug user with a mean temper. Turk’s brother had provided him with an alibi for the night his colleen entered the ranks of the missing. Audie didn’t believe it but couldn’t disprove it. But no, he was sure that was not a random killing. It was true that people around here didn’t like strangers very much, and sometimes, they’d wave a gun around and holler, but nothing like this. Nothing like this gruesome crime.
The floor behind him creaked. Audie let out a cry and reached for his gun.
“Don’t shoot,” protested a female voice.
Audie whirled around and stared at the woman in the doorway. She had washed-out skin with no makeup, short black hair, and was dressed in a shapeless, green plaid wool shirt, jeans, and muck boots. Outside the door, Audie heard the sound of a nervous whinny. He peered over her shoulder and saw a large bay horse tied to a tree.
“Excuse me,” she said, but I saw the car. “Aren’t you Chief Osmund?”
Audie drew himself up and frowned at her. “I’m Chief Osmund. Who are you?”
“Oh me? My name’s Donna Tuttle. My son and I live in the old Fiore house about a quarter mile from here. We’re actually the next house over the rise. That there is Sparky,” she said, indicating the horse, who was shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the bridle. “Weather’s making him nervous.” The woman stepped into the cabin. Audie put up a hand to stop her, but he was too late.
“Oh my God,” she cried out, clapping a hand over her mouth.
Audie sighed and looked back into the blood-spattered room. “Why don’t we step outside?” he said.
The woman began to gag. Audie caught her under the elbow and helped her down the steps. “Oh my God,” she said, gasping. “Those poor people.”
Audie nodded grimly. “It isn’t pretty.”
Donna Tuttle took a deep breath and straightened up, recovering her composure. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “Usually I got a pretty strong stomach. My husband was a hunter, you know. Yeah.” Her sad gaze drifted. “He always planned to retire here. Butch was a fireman up in Trenton. He got killed fightin’ a fire last year when a roof collapsed on him.”
“I’m very sorry,” said Audie sincerely.
Donna Tuttle acknowledged his sympathy with a nod. “You know if he had retired when he was eligible, he wouldn’t have even been in that building. He already had twenty-five years on the job when it happened. Of course, he started really young. We were just kids when we got married and he joined the department.”
Audie nodded patiently. “Mrs. Tuttle,” he said when she stopped to take a breath, “you say you’re the next house over. Were you there Saturday night when this crime occurred?”
Donna Tuttle nodded eagerly. “I sure was. My boy and I were both home. One of your officers came and questioned us. A nice young man named uh…I forget. Roberts, maybe?”
“Revere. Gene Revere,” said Audie.
“That’s right,” said Donna. “He didn’t tell us what happened, of course. He just wanted to know if we’d seen or heard anything.”
“And did ya?” Audie asked. “Anyone lurking around. Any strange noises?”
“No, I sure didn’t,” said Donna regretfully. “We tried to think of anything, but no. We didn’t even hear the shots. The wind must have been blowing in the other direction. We heard the police arriving, of course. Can’t miss all those sirens.”
Audie sighed. “No, I guess not.”
“But after that, of course, I paid plenty of attention to the news about it. That’s why I stopped when I saw your car. I wanted to mention something. I was listening to the radio this morning and they had a recap on the local news of everything that’s happened, because of that hunter’s funeral tomorrow. And the reporter said something that got me thinking.”
“About what?” Audie asked.
“Well, the reporter said that the couple had come here for a honeymoon weekend, that the husband hadn’t visited this place since boyhood.”
“That’s right,” said Audie.
“Well, a few months ago, I can’t remember if it was late spring, early summer. I remember there was flies, so it could have been summer—”
“What about it,” Audie interrupted impatiently. This woman could talk a hole through a pot.
“We ride by here all the time. Although I don’t like to ride by here as much anymore because it gives me the creeps, you know?”
“So, you were saying,” Audie prodded.
“Well, usually, the place is empty,” she said.
“Right,” said Audie.
“But this one time I was surprised because there was a guy here. Naturally I didn’t want to be rude, ’cause you don’t come across that many people in these woods. So I said ‘Hey’ and he said ‘Hey.’ And you know, we remarked about the weather. It might have been summer, now that I think of it.”
Audie pursed his lips and silently counted to ten.
“Anyway, I asked him if he bought the place. And he said no, that the place belonged to his uncle.”
Audie felt a shiver of interest. “His uncle? Are you sure about that?”
“Yeah,” said Donna. “So when I heard that on the radio this morning about him not being here since he was a kid, I thought hmmm…that’s strange.”
“He told us he hadn’t been here in years,” said Audie, excitement in his voice. “That’s exactly what he said. Hadn’t been here in years. That’s a lie, right there.”
“Of course, the uncle could have more than one nephew,” Donna pointed out.
Audie’s face fell. “That’s right. This Webster has a brother. He’s a lawyer. But he lives out west somewhere.”
Donna Tuttle nodded.
“Did he introduce himself?” Audie asked.
Donna Tuttle grimaced. “He did, but I’m not much for names. I honestly don’t remember what he said his name was.”
Audie looked crestfallen.
“But I think it might have started with a
D
. Because, I’m Donna. So I would remember the
D.”
Audie tried to conceal his eagerness. “Would you be willing to come down to the police station and look at some pictures for me?” Audie asked.
“Sure. I can do that. Sure.”
“Let me speak to this man again. See if he continues to deny being here.”
“Well,” said Donna. “I didn’t know if I should even bother you with this, ’cause it was such a small thing, but when I saw your car going by I thought I’d follow you and tell you,” said the woman brightly. “Just in case.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Temple.”
“Tuttle,” she said.
“Mrs. Tuttle. Thank you very much for coming forward.”
“Glad I could help,” she said. She untied the horse, stuck the toe of her muck boot into the stirrup, and hoisted herself up on the horse’s back. “I hope you get him.”
“Oh we will,” said Audie, and his heart felt lighter than it had in a while. “By the way, this fellow. Was he alone when you saw him?”
Donna Tuttle shrugged as she pulled the horse’s reins to get him back on the trail. “I didn’t see anybody, but now that you mention it, I have a feeling there was somebody with him. I don’t know why. Is it important?”
“It could be,” said Audie.
“Well, if he was scopin’ the place out, he’d probably come alone, wouldn’t he?”
Audie nodded grimly. “That’s what I’d do.”
A
FTER
D
AVID LEFT
, Lizette did a careful, thorough job of changing Emma’s bandages, all the while recounting the story of her life. She explained that she was a widow, that her young husband died in a car wreck when she was twenty-five, and she’d never remarried or had kids. She was new to the area. She lived alone, liked her independence, and was hoping someday to retire to the Florida Keys because she enjoyed fishing. At Emma’s request, and under protest, she went upstairs and retrieved some clothes for her, in case Emma felt like getting dressed. “You don’t need to get dressed,” Lizette advised her.
Too weary to read, Emma sat up, numbly watching morning talk shows on television while Lizette worked around her, over Emma’s protests, straightening up and dusting the house. The pain medication soon sent Emma back to bed for a nap. When Emma awoke, Lizette announced that it was lunchtime and prepared her soup and a sandwich. After lunch Lizette said that she was going to change the beds.
“We only slept on those sheets for one night,” Emma protested. “It’s not necessary.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” Lizette said. She disappeared into the bedroom and emerged with her arms full of sheets. “Where’s your washer?”
“Down in the basement,” Emma said.
“Do you have other sets of sheets?” Lizette asked suspiciously.
“In the upstairs linen closet,” said Emma. “I wish you wouldn’t do all this.”
“I don’t like to sit idly,” said Lizette, inclining her head toward the basement door. “I’m not one of those aides who will sit and watch TV all day. I prefer to earn my money.”
And then the energetic Lizette descended the stairs to the laundry area. Emma sighed and began to hobble around the house in her bathrobe. She leaned on her cane and looked out every window at the ominous sky, clutching in her hand a slip of paper with the phone number of the police department on it. As soon as David had walked out, she had looked up the number and written it down.
She understood that David felt under seige, unfairly targeted by the police. But he was turning it into a test of her loyalty. And ultimately, she knew she had to put her own safety first. And that of her baby. Still, several times she picked up the phone and then replaced it. She knew how betrayed he would feel if she went to the police behind his back. Of course, sometimes innocent people were railroaded. But David was taking the lawyer’s advice to avoid the police too literally. Emma felt sure that the evidence on that gift box could be important.
This might help to clear your husband, she reassured herself as she limped over to the phone in the kitchen and dialed the number on the slip of paper with trembling fingers, only to learn that Lieutenant Atkins was not at the station. Emma gave the receptionist her information and then hung up the phone, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs. Now I wait, she thought. She imagined David coming home, just as the police were showing up at the house. The look of betrayal on his face.
No, don’t think about it. Your own safety comes first, and if your husband doesn’t see it that way, that’s his problem. Over and over her thoughts returned to the horrific wedding gift. What if the sender was, in fact, her attacker? He might have left traces of himself, fingerprints or hairs or something, in the dish or on the box that the police might be able to trace. But the longer it sat outside in the trash can, the more likely it was that the evidence would be contaminated.
She glanced out the window. The day was growing gloomier by the minute. She needed to go outside and retrieve it from the trash can, as much as she dreaded the thought. If it rained, and the lid was even partly loose, any evidence might be destroyed altogether. She pushed herself to her feet. Get dressed, she thought. It’ll make you feel more…in control.
She ran a comb through her long, honey-blond hair and skinned it into a knot at the nape of her neck. She examined her face in the bathroom mirror. Her skin was waxy, and there were circles around her eyes. She dabbed some makeup on the dark shadows and put on some lipstick. Then she limped into the bedroom and put on the black, V-necked dress made of a light jersey in a wide, A-line style, which Lizette had brought downstairs at her request. She had bought the dress for late in her pregnancy, but she decided to wear it now because it was voluminous and didn’t press on her wounds. She pulled it down gingerly over her head. All right, she thought. That will do for trash picking.
She walked to the back door and opened it, inhaling deeply of the smoky, damp November day. Lizette’s voice drifted up the cellar steps. “Everything all right?”
“Yes. Fine,” Emma said in a cranky tone.
She took a deep breath to prepare herself for what was coming next and descended the back steps. Slowly and deliberately, with the aid of her cane, Emma walked to the garbage can enclosure along the side of the house. As she prepared to lift the plastic lid, she inhaled, so that she would smell nothing. She lifted the lid of the trash can and looked inside.