She told herself it had nothing to do with her.
She wanted to tell whoever it was to go away but her throat seemed to have closed up, robbing her of voice. Cautiously, she moved closer and pressed an ear to the door.
"Caroline," came the soft whisper from the other side, as though whoever it was had sensed her there. She jumped back with a lurching of her heart, hand at her throat. Again, the doorknob rattled softly in its casing while her heart thumped against her ribcage like a small faulty engine.
She stood hugging herself in the yellow robe that suddenly seemed to have lost all ability to warm her. The whispered voice might have belonged to a man or a woman; she couldn't be sure but she sensed a man.
Standing there, her fear was gradually replaced with anger and indignance. How dare they? This is my room. No one had a right to intrude on her privacy, to wake her in the middle of the night. No one. She made her voice firm, authoritative. "Who is it?" she called out.
Act strong and you will be strong
, Dr. Rosen had told her.
"What do you want?" she called.
"Y O U…"
At once, a chill slipped through her as she thought of the man who rescued her from Mike Handratty. The man who had hid his face and whispered her name. She'd just come from shopping at Natalie's Boutique, had her packages with her. They'd slapped against her hip as she ran home.
Hearing soft footsteps descending the stairs, she hurried to the window, and saw a hooded figure fleeing into the night.
The whispered word YOU echoed in her mind. It had come through the door like the hiss of a serpent and coiled itself around her heart. Had she not been listening with every fibre of her being, she might not have heard him going downstairs at all. The strip of light was back beneath the door.
Even seeing the figure disappear into the night did not satisfy her that he was really gone. Maybe it was a trick, and he was back now. A good twenty minutes passed before she gathered the courage to open the door. She unlocked and opened the door a crack and looked out into the scantily lighted hallway. She was about to close it again when she noticed the tiny lavender bag hanging on her doorknob, the logo of Natalie's Boutique clearly visible on the side of the bag. Both puzzled and curious, she unhooked it from the knob and took it inside. Her name was printed on the tiny card, nothing else.
She undid the wrapping, and lifted the lid of the creamy velvet box. She was surprised to find inside the gold pin the storeowner had suggested to her.
Looking at it, you would have thought it would be a perfect match for the teardrop earrings, but it wasn't. It was too large for one thing, and the gold had a more yellow cast than her mother's earrings. But not wanting to seem unappreciative, Caroline had let the storekeeper think they were not in her budget. Which was true, but not the main reason she didn't get it.
Had Jeffrey bought it for her as a Christmas gift? But why would he? How would he even know she'd been looking at it? Coincidence? One thing was sure; she had no intention of keeping such an expensive gift. She would return it and hope he understood. If it
was
Jeffrey who had hung it there. The more she thought about it, the less it made sense. Why would he knock on her door at such an hour and then not identify himself? Then run out into the night. Why had he whispered? Because he didn't want to wake the neighbors? Yet that whispered voice had given her the creeps. Made her feel threatened. Anyway, why wouldn't he simply have given it to her when they were at the bar if he'd bought it for her?
But if he didn't leave this gift, then whose footsteps had she heard going down the stairs? What shadowy figure had she glimpsed running into the night?
Her thoughts went round like mice in a maze. She wished she had someone to talk to. Someone she could trust. But there was no more time to dwell on the mystery, she needed some sleep. She had to get up for work in a few hours.
Forty-Four
Upon entering the restaurant the next morning, Christmas day, it was obvious the place was in a state of terrified excitement. She thought of the sirens last night, and the bad feeling returned.
"Isn't it awful about that poor woman," Ethel said, as soon as she walked into the kitchen.
"What woman, Ethel?" She hung her coat on the rack.
"Didn't you hear, Caroline? That woman who owns that nice store—Natalie's Boutique. I think you got my scarf there. It's lovely by the way and so thoughtful of you."
Caroline, barely able to answer, said she was glad she liked it. "No, I didn't hear anything," she breathed. Only the sirens. "What happened?"
"She was murdered last night. Horrible. Her daughter found her on the floor of her shop. The place was in shambles. Something like that to happen on Christmas Eve, so tragic?"
A numbness went through her. Yet while the news was shocking, it was not altogether a surprise. Something in her had known when she heard those sirens last night that something terrible had happened.
"The cops think it was the same man who killed those other women," Ethel continued, putting on a new pot of coffee, "but no one knows, really. Though, according to a friend of mine who should, she apparently wasn't sexually molested like the others. That's why I'm hearing anyway, but mostly it's all speculation. There hasn't been time to do an autopsy. The cops aren't saying much in the media."
Caroline didn't realize tears were streaming down her cheeks until Ethel said, "Did you know her, honey? I can see that you're upset. Not so surprising though, even if you didn't. There's a devil out there killing women. Enough to upset anyone."
"I shopped there a couple of times," Caroline said. "She was really nice. She told me her daughter and grandson were spending Christmas with her. She was so happy about that."
Caroline wanted to sit and weep but there was no time to dwell on this latest horror. She mopped at her eyes with some tissues, then got into a clean uniform, grabbed her checkbook and went out into the restaurant where the tables were already filling up. She found herself studying the male customers, those with nowhere else to go on Christmas, wondering if one of them might be him.
Forty-Five
When Caroline got home from work, without even taking off her coat, she grabbed the little bag with the brooch inside and went upstairs to knock on Jeffrey's door. Her feet hurt and her mind was a whirl of uncertainties and fears. Thinking of Natalie Breen sent a fresh wave of sadness and anger over her. Why can't the police catch him? He must have left something of himself behind at the scene. Some clue.
She knocked on Jeffrey's door lightly, twice, harder the second time, but there was no answer. He wasn't home. As she was coming back downstairs, Mrs. Bannister called up to her. "Caroline, dear, you have visitor."
And then Nurse Addison was coming up the stairs to meet her, a wide smile on her face and Caroline could hardly believe her eyes. She looked so different out of her white uniform, dressed fashionably as a model in a long, brown coat with a rolled black velvet collar. Forgetting the bag she still held in her hand, Caroline rushed down the stairs, and threw her arms about her old friend and nurse, almost knocking her over in the process. "I'm so happy to see you, Nurse Addison," she cried. "Oh, what a wonderful Christmas present."
Lynne Addison grabbed the handrail and laughed softly, managing to hug her back with her other arm. "For me, too. And it's Lynne, Caroline. You don't have to call me Nurse Addison anymore. You and I are good friends. I left my husband and son engaged in a electronic hockey game," she laughed. "I doubt they'll even miss me. I really wanted to see you."
Mrs. Bannister stood at the foot of the stairs looking up with curiosity, smiling expectantly.
"This is my good friend, Lynne Addison," Caroline said. "That's Mrs. Bannister." Then, not wanting to share her visitor further, Caroline ushered the nurse upstairs and into her room. She closed the door and it shut with a small snick, the sound of privacy. She left the bag on top of the bureau and hugged the nurse again, feeling as if she never wanted to let her go. She knew she'd missed her, but she didn't realize how much.
"You smell so good," Caroline said, finally releasing Lynne from her embrace.
"Thank you. New perfume for Christmas from my dear hubby, Joe. L'air Du Temps. I'm glad you like it. Me, too. It's nice to be able to wear perfume; I couldn't at the hospital. Some of the patients and staff were allergic."
Caroline listened enraptured as Lynne told her a little about her life. She learned her husband was a firefighter, retired now as she was. They'd been married for thirty-five years and had one married son and a granddaughter named Angel. How could I have forgotten her name? Lynne used to show us pictures and talk about her, like she was doing now.
"Angel's our pride and joy, of course. Joe's a pushover for her. But no one adores her more than her great-grandma, my mom. And it's mutual. They both light up at the sight of one another, but I don't know how much longer that will be true for my mother, Caroline. She has Alzheimer's'. We've moved her into our son, Kevin's old room. Thank God I'm home now so I can take care of her. But it's been difficult. Otherwise, I would have been to see you a lot sooner."
"I'm just glad you're here now. I've really missed you. I'm so sorry about your mother."
"Thanks. I try not to dwell on it. It doesn't help and it won't change anything. But enough about me. I want to hear all about you. You've been on my mind a lot, Caroline. I've worried about you ever since I put you in that taxi, though it's obvious I needn't have. You're doing great. Tell me everything. You're enjoying your job. I hear you're a waitress now."
"Yes. I was really nervous when they first put me out in the restaurant, but I like it now. People are nice, mostly."
"Yes, they are. But then you're easy to be nice to. Oh, by the way, Martha Blizzard has been released into her sister's care. She lives in Vancouver now. I knew you'd be happy to know that. You two were good friends."
So far away, Caroline thought. Not likely they would ever have that cup of tea together. But she was glad for Martha. Maybe she would write to her. She would always remember her kindness. What Caroline said next seemed to come out of nowhere. "I think of Elizabeth every day. Especially now, at Christmas."
"Your little girl."
"Yes. I know that wouldn't be her name now, but it's how I always think of her. She'd be nine now. I wonder what she looks like, what sort of present she might like for Christmas. I wish I could send her something."
A look of resolve came into Lynne's face. "I can't promise anything, but I'm going to make sure there's a note in the adoption file that you are anxious to hear from her. You never know. When she's of age, she might want to find you too. We keep your current information on file. She looked around her. "This is really a very nice room, Caroline. And what a sweet tree."
"Thank you." Caroline knew this was Lynne's way of steering the conversation onto an easier path, and that was fine with her. "Some of those Christmas bulbs belonged to my parents. They were in the trunk."
Lynne said they were beautiful with their old fashioned hand-paintings. She also commented on the wallpaper with its tiny flowers, the white woodwork. "Everything so sparkling and tidy. But then you always were a great little worker."
"Let me take your coat, Nurse…Lynne." She touched the soft, velvety sleeve. "It's so beautiful."
After hanging the coat in the closet, Caroline put the tea on and set out a plate of the mixed Christmas cakes and cookies Harold had brought her. He wasn't mad at her anymore, and she was glad about that. He had really liked his model airplane, and Mrs. Bannister had washed out the cat cookie jar and filled it with cookies almost as soon as she unwrapped it. She kept smiling at the cat cover, saying the face looked exactly like Saucy's, one of her cats that was no longer in the world.
She was flitting around the room like Wendi in Peter Pan, putting on water for tea, setting out cups and saucers and plates, sore feet forgotten in the pure pleasure of her friend's company. She set her new cups and saucers out. "You're always looking after people, aren't you?" she said.
"Like you're doing now," she smiled. "I'm lucky to be able to do it, though, Caroline. My, what pretty cups and saucers."
"They're real bone china, too," she said proudly. "A Christmas gift from my landlady."
Painted with pink flowers and tiny green leaves, Caroline had seen them in Mrs. Bannister's china cabinet many times. She was touched that she had given it to her, and now pleased to set them out before her special guest.
Having poured their tea, Caroline finally sat herself down in the chair opposite Lynne. She slid the plate of Christmas goodies across to her. "Harold bought me these cakes; he works in the bakery."
"Harold?"
"The landlady's nephew. He lives downstairs with her."
Lynne took one of the chocolate chip and cherry cookies. "Mmm. My favorite. Now, tell me everything. I want details."