See No Evil Page 10

  He looked at the slobbering dog, still balanced against the side of the car, eyes intent on him. He wanted to hurt it so bad. He rammed the key in the ignition, turned it, and hit the gas. The animal disappeared from view as he pulled away and into a U turn. His headlights picked out the creature, standing in the middle of the road watching him.

  He aimed the car and floored it.

  At the last moment the dog jumped nimbly to the side, barking at him as if this were a jolly game of dodgeball. Dar slammed on the brakes and twisted the wheel, and took another pass. A third. A fourth. He turned for the fifth and saw to his intense disappointment that the animal was walking across someone’s lawn, heading for the woods. Every so often it stopped and barked in his direction just like a kid who had to have the last word. He watched it until it disappeared into the darkness under the trees.

  Filled with rage at the dog, at old man Horton, at Adolph, and at Anna Volente, Dar drove a quarter mile away, parked, and waited until he felt certain the dog was home. He pulled a penlight from the glove compartment and climbed out of the car. He’d have to walk a bit to get to the stretch of woods he’d escaped through, but it shouldn’t take him long. He had to find that gun.

  Fire shot up his left leg at his first step. The bite! Adrenaline had masked the pain until now. As he realized he couldn’t walk back to the woods, and as he remembered how infectious a dog bite could be, rage gripped him anew. It wasn’t fair.

  And it was all her fault!

  ELEVEN

  Two state policemen arrived at the same time as Sergeant Poole and Officer Schumann. All four looked sleepy, especially our stalwart Amhearst cops who had been rousted from their warm beds before they’d had opportunity to recover from their long day in the classroom. While four men in blue—or gray in the case of the state guys—were very comforting, I’d have been happy if they’d brought along four more.

  The killer had been in our house! He had come to my room! I was so unnerved that I toyed seriously with the idea of calling my father and brothers and pleading with them to come, loaded shotguns and all. Let me tell you, that’s unnerved.

  As it was, I kept Rocky at my feet and stood as close to Gray as I could manage without climbing into his lap. Lucy and Meg hovered close too.

  Our living room was bursting when we all sat down to tell the officers our story. Eight people and six seats presented a slight problem until I sank to the floor with Rocky at my side, and Lucy sat on the raised hearth.

  First we told them of the man in black’s visit at Freedom’s Chase and gave them copies of the pictures I had sent as requested but which they hadn’t yet seen. They grinned with pleasure when they saw the license plate in the one photo. Then we told the night’s tale.

  “I woke up when Rocky growled.” I shivered at the memory. “Then the dog tore out of the room after someone.”

  “I woke up when Rocky came tearing up the bedroom hall, barking and growling to wake the dead,” Gray said. “I heard someone race out the front door, Rocky on his tail. I pulled on my jeans and took off after them, but I couldn’t catch them. They ran into the woods.”

  Meg asked the big question, the one that had us all wondering. “How did he get in through a locked door? Both Gray and I checked it when we went to bed, so we know it was locked.”

  “The back door?” Officer Schumann suggested.

  We all shook our heads.

  “We checked. Locked. The same with all the windows here on the main floor and in the basement.” I shifted slightly and came to rest against Gray’s legs. For a brief moment he laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. For a brief moment it eased my tension.

  “Let’s see if we can’t find you an answer.” Sergeant Poole rose, and so did the others. They split up and searched the house.

  “Down here,” Sergeant Poole called after a few minutes.

  “Not you guys,” one of the state cops told us as we civilians all trooped to the steps. “We don’t want to accidentally contaminate the evidence.”

  We clustered at the top of the steps, listening to the low murmur of voices rise from below. When the four of them reappeared, I was on tenterhooks for more than one reason. I wanted to know what they had found, and I wanted to be assured that the things in my work area were unharmed. After all, I had a substantial monetary investment down there.

  “He came in through a basement window,” Sergeant Poole said when we’d taken our seats in the living room. This time Gray sat on the floor after insisting I take his place on the sofa. The sergeant sat in the chair I’d reupholstered.

  “Which one?” Gray asked. “I looked down there.”

  “The one nearest the oil burner. It looks fine. It’s only if you try to open it that the broken lock shows.”

  “The guy’s good,” one of the state cops said. “That’s why I’m surprised he didn’t do something to neutralize the dog.”

  I thought about the timing. “Maybe he didn’t know we had one. We only got Rocky late today. If he checked out the house after he left Freedom’s Chase but before we got home, he thought there was no dog.”

  “So it’s reasonable to assume that he came in before you brought the dog home.”

  I was appalled. “He was in the house all evening? While we ate? While we watched the movie? While we got ready for bed?”

  Lucy rubbed her arms. “That gives me the creeps.”

  Meg silently wrapped her arms about herself and looked uncomfortable. “So where was he all this time?”

  Officer Schumann held out a tape cassette she grasped by one corner with a tissue. “Are any of you listening to this? It’s part of an audio book, a detective story.”

  In concert the three of us all shook our heads.

  “Where was it?” I asked.

  “In the closet under the stairs, back behind the material and other stuff, in the cramped space where the stairs turn. It looks like he broke in, hid there, then settled down to wait until you were all asleep, passing time by listening to the book.”

  A literate killer. Wasn’t I lucky.

  “Is there a library name on the cassette?” Meg asked. “I get lots of audio books from the county library.””

  “Nothing to indicate any kind of ownership, which probably means he bought it himself,” Schumann said. A state guy held out an evidence bag, and she dropped the cassette in.

  Gray indicated the tape. “That’s probably why he never heard the dog walking around. I was wondering about that. The snick-snick of a dog’s claws sounds very different from a person’s footsteps.” He looked at the floor. “But I guess since most of the house is carpeted with wall-to-wall, he wouldn’t sound all that different after all.”

  “Is everything else okay down in the basement?” I held my breath as I waited for the answer.

  “That’s your sewing stuff?” Sergeant Poole asked.

  I nodded.

  “Looked fine to me. We dusted for prints around the closet and found none, no surprise. This guy knows what he’s doing.”

  I thought of all that grit and what it would do to my fabrics and my machines. I also thought of something else. “Gloves. Like at the Ryders’.”

  “So it appears,” Poole agreed. “We won’t dust around your work area unless we feel we have no choice. Since we have the cassette, the piece of fabric, and the pictures you took this afternoon—” he nodded at Lucy who beamed back “—we may not need to disrupt your things. However, you can’t work down there until we’re sure.”

  That was a lot better than I’d feared. Freedom’s Chase could live without a few more pillows, and I had no more immediate jobs scheduled. I always kept the calendar clear at the end of August, beginning of September because of the new school year.

  The state policemen rose and moved toward the front door.

  “I doubt the hunk of black fabric will tell us more about who your intruder was,” one of them said. “Of course we’ll check, but odds are that it’ll be from a pair of jeans like millions of other pa
irs. Levi’s. Wranglers. Something like that. We’ll need to find the pair with the matching hole to prove anything. But the pictures.” He grinned and winked at Lucy who glowed like a solar flare under all the praise. “We’ll get busy on them right away.”

  When they were gone, I immediately felt more vulnerable. My world had always been safe, secure and relatively mundane until two days ago. Skip Schumann was my worst “enemy”.

  Now I had a genuine I’m-going-to-kill-you enemy, and I wanted my old boring life back, Gray now included, of course.

  Sergeant Poole looked at me. “Can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?”

  I smiled at what I assumed was his little joke.

  “You are a very fortunate woman, Anna.” There was no humor in his face or voice now.

  I nodded. “I know.”

  “I’d like to assign Officer Schumann to act as your bodyguard.”

  I was going to get my own bodyguard? Wow! I felt safer already.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Natalie Schumann start and then frown. “But, Sergeant—”

  Then again. I spoke quickly. “It’s all right. I’m going to Seaside for the weekend, so I’ll be fine. He won’t know where I am, even if he dares come back.”

  He won’t, will he, Lord? But if he was half the man we all thought he was, a man who stalked and killed innocent women, he’d be back. The very thought was enough to make me clammy all over.

  “Are you going to Seaside by yourself?” Poole asked, his craggy face intent.

  “With Meg and Lucy. Lucy’s brother James has a house there.”

  “Will he be there?”

  Lucy nodded. “He lives there year round.”

  “Are you going with them?” the sergeant asked Gray.

  Now it was his turn to start and frown. “Uh,” he said helpfully. Doubtless he was thinking of all the appointments recorded in his precious little PDA.

  “Good,” Poole said. “If you’re along to watch over the ladies, and the brother is there, and of course the dog goes along, then Schumann can be in the wedding she’s supposed to be in on Saturday.”

  Gray looked at Officer Schumann who looked back at him. Then they both turned to me. It was more than obvious that one of them was going to have an unhappy weekend.

  I waved my hand like I was chasing away a bothersome fly. “You don’t have to change your plans, either of you. I’ll be fine.”

  Sergeant Poole shook his head at my naiveté. “Can you say wishful thinking?”

  He certainly knew how to make a girl feel better. I swallowed, trying to force my fear back into my stomach where it belonged, doing cartwheels and trapeze stuff down there.

  I was conscious of Gray’s eyes on me, but I wouldn’t look at him. The last thing I wanted was for him to come along and end up resenting me for interfering with his crowded schedule.

  “I’ll go with the girls,” he finally said, voice flat.

  The sergeant nodded approval, and Schumann wilted with relief. I scowled at Gray who looked stoic and noble. I wanted to tell him to keep his gallantry to himself, but I wanted the comfort of his presence more. It was amazing what fear could do to a girl’s self-respect. I swallowed again and forced out a raspy, “Thanks.”

  “But I can’t leave until tomorrow evening. I need to go to Dorothy Ryder’s viewing.”

  Of course he did. Business was business.

  I was immediately ashamed of myself. I hated the side of me that always suspected others’ motives. It was all Glenn’s fault, dastardly man. I may have been too blind, too naive to see any of the signals that must have warned that disaster lay ahead, but I’d learned my lesson. In fact I’d overlearned. Now I looked for hidden agendas and warped intentions too much, especially in men. Just because the Ryders were business acquaintances was no reason to assume Gray didn’t feel a personal loss at Dorothy’s death. After all, I felt one, and I didn’t even know her.

  Be honest, Anna. You’re miffed because he didn’t immediately jump at the chance to go with you for the weekend.

  Too true. Way too true. It was hard to remember that I’d only known him for three days—now four, since it was almost three in the morning, Friday. He didn’t owe me any allegiance or any assistance.

  “No problem then, except for the heavy weekend traffic.” At least the sergeant was clearly delighted with the way things were working out. “Natalie will stay here through the day, and you, Mr. Edwards, can pick Anna up when you’re finished at work.”

  And so I passed the day with Natalie Schumann trailing me wherever I went—the grocery store with Lucy to get extra food for the weekend, school to make certain all was ready for the new year, the coin laundry since we couldn’t go down to the cellar to use the washer and dryer. Together Natalie and I waved Lucy and Meg off for Seaside around one so they could beat the worst of the shore-bound traffic.

  In the course of my time with Natalie, I discovered that she was everything that her little brother Skip was not. Of course Natalie was about twelve years older than Skip which might have accounted for her pleasant disposition and manner. Then again, Skip might just have gotten all the family’s bad genes, sort of like Danny DeVito in the movie Twins.

  Gray showed up shortly after five, all showered and shaved and looking good in summer slacks and a dress shirt with a carefully folded tie stuffed in his chest pocket. Natalie practically raced out the door to make it to her rehearsal dinner on time.

  I served us a quick hot-weather dinner of taco salad and fresh fruit, and I liked eating across the table from him way too much. The chair in which he inevitably sat had too quickly become “his” chair.

  “Did Lucy leave this for us?” he asked around a bite of lettuce and hamburger. “It’s delicious.”

  “Thank you, I think.”

  He stilled a moment, studying me. “Oops. Sorry. You made it, right?”

  I nodded.

  He grinned. “Doesn’t change a thing. It’s still good.”

  Demoted from delicious to good. Good was sort of like nice, a polite way of saying the quality was so-so. Was he saying I cooked as well as I painted? If so, my matrimonial future looked dark indeed.

  “Were you able to clear your calendar without too much trouble?” I asked as I washed the dishes.

  He shrugged. “I’ve got my laptop in the truck. I can work in Seaside as well as here.”

  “And miss the beach?” I was truly horrified.

  “The beach is sandy. And the ocean is salty.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “About what?”

  I shook my head sadly. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to rethink my opinion of you.”

  He grinned, but I wasn’t certain that I was teasing. How could a shore lover ever hook up with an anti-shore philistine?

  TWELVE

  Dorothy Ryder’s viewing was one of the saddest things I had ever been to.

  When Gray and I arrived at the funeral home Friday evening, the parking lot was nearly full. We joined the steady stream of people going inside even as I wondered where the people arriving after us would find space to park. The death of someone as young as Dorothy always brings a large response. Add to that the violence of her death and the splashy newspaper coverage, and it seemed all of Chester County had turned out.

  Ken stood in the front of the room by the head of the closed casket. He had that shell-shocked look on his face that I had seen on my grandmother’s face when my grandfather died and on my father’s when Mom died.

  Just beyond Ken stood a man and woman with silver hair. They wore the same disbelieving, lost expression, and I thought they must be Dorothy’s parents, enduring the unthinkable pain of burying a child. Near them stood two couples about Ken’s age. Dorothy’s siblings, I decided.

  The line was long, and as we moved slowly forward, I watched Ken. He shook hands with the men and hugged the women, who often kissed him on the cheek. As we approached, I could hear a woman telling Ken a story about Dorothy bringing h
er family meals when she was in the hospital.

  “How old do you think she was?” I asked Gray. I stared at the large picture of Dorothy sitting on the casket. She had been a very lovely dark-haired woman with strength and purpose shining in her dark eyes.

  Gray shrugged. “Thirty-five? Forty? Somewhere in there.”

  “So sad.” I sighed for the abrupt and tragic ending of one who had apparently been a very nice woman as well as a successful businessperson.

  When Ken saw Gray, he tried to smile. “Gray. Thanks for coming.”

  The men shook hands, and Gray patted Ken on the shoulder with that awkward show of affection men have. I hung back, not wanting to intrude.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Ken.” Gray’s voice was rough with emotion.

  Ken’s eyes filled with tears, making me blink against the burning in my own eyes.

  Gray put his hand on the small of my back and pushed me forward. “This is Anna Volente, Ken. She was with me when we—”

  Ken gave me the saddest smile. “I saw your picture in the paper.”

  I nodded and gestured helplessly toward the casket. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” Ken sighed, his shoulder sagging as he studied Dorothy’s picture. Then he turned and introduced us to Dorothy’s weeping family. I felt the tears pooling in my eyes, knowing how they hurt, remembering what it had been like when Mom died. I hadn’t known what to do with all the love I’d still felt for her or how to fill that empty space in my heart where she had lived. In many ways I still didn’t. I ached for these people struggling with their versions of those emotions.

  We moved on to make room for the many behind us. As we walked toward the exit, Gray looked at me with a crooked smile. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to me. “I’d hate to see you at the viewing of someone you actually knew.”

  I wrinkled my nose at him as I blotted my eyes.

  “You are such a girl.” He shook his head as if in disbelief.