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your mom say about that?”
    “Nothing. I hadn’t thought of it then. But
she always figured Evan’s possessiveness and arrogance had a lot to
do with some kind of insecurity.”
    We drove past nice houses with huge lawns,
interspersed with patches of woods. This went on for a couple of
miles.
    I slowed as we approached Overlook. Glyn was
walking out toward Fremont, so I waited. She said hi to Cree, whom
she’d met a couple of times, and got into the back seat.
    Cree half turned and asked both of us,
“Wouldn’t her parents be there? It’s Sunday.”
    “They’re always out gadding,” Glyn said.
“Anyway, they’re clueless. It was all her sister Velda could do to
persuade them to get her into therapy. And then she had to persuade
Kelsey.”
    “Her therapist is a friend of my mom’s.” I
slowed again as we approached Kelsey’s house.
    “Too bad he didn’t . . .” Cree’s comment
petered out as she thought about it.
    “She’s a she,” I said. “I don’t think they
can anticipate everything. Anyway, people don’t listen. If she’d
told Kelsey, ‘And by the way, don’t ever drink yourself blotto if
there are guys around,’ do you think she’d have paid
attention?”
    “I don’t know Kelsey,” Cree replied.
    I crunched over white gravel right up to the
house. It, too, was white, Victorian-style, with a portico at the
front door. In the middle of the roof was a turret that went up
still another story.
    The house was quiet. No people rushed out to
greet us. Or send us away. Far in back, where we couldn’t see it,
was a stable and a paddock with a couple of horses, including
Kelsey’s palomino. I wished I could see them, to know if the
palomino was there. She might have been out riding it.
    But I didn’t think so. Not after last
night.
    “What now?” asked Glyn.
    Good question. “We have to get her to talk.
She probably hates me, and she doesn’t know Cree, so it’s up to
you. You’re going to knock on the door. See that big brass knocker?
Once it’s open, you make nice and be sure it stays open till Cree
and I are inside. Got that?”
    Glyn got her stubborn look. “Why would she be
glad to see me?”
    “Because,” I said, “you’re the only one of us
she wouldn’t not be glad to see.”
    Inside the house, a dog barked. I’d met that
dog, a big German shepherd.
    “Go on, Glyn,” I told her. “Start feeling
guilty again.”
    She gave me a grouchy look and climbed out of
the car.
    With my window open, I heard the knocker. I
heard the dog, but nothing else. I guessed the parents weren’t home
or somebody would have noticed us. Kelsey knew my car. If she saw
it, she would probably ignore it. Maybe they all went to
church.
    Glyn knocked again. The dog barked again, a
deep “woof woof.” Glyn put her face against the door and shouted,
“Anybody home?”
    Cree giggled. “Way to go.”
    “Either they’re not here,” I said, “or
they’re not answering. I hope she’s okay.”
    “What if she’s not?” Cree opened her door and
got out. She walked around studying both sides of the house. I
could see she considered trying the back, but that would be a
little too pushy.
    Glyn knocked again, and then tried the latch.
No dice. They must all have gone out, maybe rushed Kelsey to a
substitute therapist. There had to be someone who could stand in
for Dr. Schiff in an emergency.
    I’d met her parents. They didn’t strike me as
churchgoing types, but you never know.
    “Maddie!”
    Cree was looking up at the turret. “Maddie,
come here!”
    When I got out and went over to her, she
pointed up. At the top of the tower.
     

 
    Chapter
Four
     
    Something was up there. Something
peach-color, like a bundle of cloth. But I didn’t think that’s what
it was.
    Glyn came back, relieved. “The door’s locked.
So now what?”
    Cree pointed. Glyn looked up. “Oh. My.
God.”
    I was glad I had my phone. I quick-dialed
Rick Falco, my cop boyfriend.
    He answered, thank goodness, even though