Chosen for Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

need?"
    Suzanne sighed. "Thea, honey, it's Sunday night. You know, the weekend. Can't you wait 'til morning?" I was about to tease her about losing her competitive edge, but I heard deep male tones in the background, and immediately understood what was going on. Suzanne works too hard for the same reason I do, as a distraction. But she readily admits she'd like to get married and have a family and lead a normal life. Most of the men we meet in our business are married, but she'd found one somewhere.
    "Of course," I said. "See you in the morning?"
    Before I could hang up, Suzanne said, "Wait. How did things go at home? Are you OK?"
    "It was bearable," I said. "Just. Tell you about it tomorrow." I cradled the phone. I changed into some decent pants and a sweater, stuffed a yogurt and diet soda into my briefcase, and grabbed my keys. The phone rang before I got to the door.
    "Thea? It's Mom. You got home all right?"
    "Sure. Easy driving today. I was just on my way to the office."
    Mom sighed. It worries her that I work so hard. "There's something I forgot to ask you, dear, while you were here. I got distracted, with so many people around, and that policeman."
    "I know what you mean," I said. "I didn't like him much, I don't know why. There was just something about him."
    "Well, Thea, he was just doing his job. He seemed polite enough to me, although of course I would have preferred not to discuss it. It's about Carrie. The thing I wanted to ask you, I mean. I hope you don't mind. Someone has to go up there and clean out her apartment. The rent's paid until the end of the month, but her landlady says it makes her nervous having a dead person's things around." Mom's tones conveyed her disgust with someone so irrational. "If it bothers her so much, I don't know why she won't just pack them up herself and ship them, but she says she won't touch them. So would you mind too much, dear, going up there next weekend and getting her stuff? You could treat it kind of like a minivacation, couldn't you? Camden is very pretty."
    I didn't bother to ask her why she didn't do it herself. She wouldn't have called me if she could do it. She wasn't superstitious, like Carrie's landlady, but she had her own reasons for not wanting to touch Carrie's things. Memories. Even if she went, it would take her forever to do it. She'd be inundated with memories every time she touched something.
    I should have expected this call. The family persists in believing that I can do anything, that I am the model of calm capability. "Thea will fix it," could be the family motto. It's partly my fault because I don't just say no. I'm flattered that they think I'm capable, but it can be a real nuisance sometimes, since they also don't think my work is important enough to merit any consideration. This was one of those times. I'd wanted a distraction that would get me away from thinking about Carrie, not one that would immerse me in memories.
    The last time I'd been called in to fix things was when they wanted me to persuade Carrie to abandon her notion of searching for her birth parents. I'm ashamed to admit that I tried, too, but that was one that even Thea couldn't fix. Carrie was calm, cool, and resolute. She explained her reasons, dismissed our parents' concerns, and gave me the number of someone I could talk to in the search group she had joined. When I reported my failure, my parents weren't surprised. What I didn't report was Carrie's disappointment in me for failing to understand. That was personal, and it opened a chasm between us that we never bridged. Shortly after that, Carrie moved to Maine. I visited her once, uncomfortable about the distance between us. She didn't mention the search, and neither did I, so I assumed she'd given it up.
    I'd done it again. Drifted off into my own thoughts. Mom was talking and I hadn't paid any attention. "I'm sorry," I said. "I missed what you just said."
    "It's not like you to be inattentive," she said. "You were the same way