he’s the one burgling houses around here.”
Brian nodded. “Maybe he is and maybe he isn’t. You’re hiding something, Lexie. I’m disappointed. You know you can talk to me.”
My face grew warm. I wanted to tell him everything Gayle had told me, but it wasn’t my story. “Believe me, Brian, I don’t know that man’s name. Maybe he wanted to see one of the book club members. Or…”
“Or?” Brian pounced on my hesitation.
“Or nothing.”
A uniformed officer came to the door. He conferred with Brian in whispers.
“I’ll be back,” Brian said. “Please write down the name and address of everyone who was here last night.”
Everyone? “Of course,” I said and reached for a pen and pad.
Outside, yellow tape blocked off the area of the backyard where the body still lay—as though anyone would want to go there! Well, maybe some curious kids would, once word got out. I straightened up the kitchen and left the names of the mystery book club members on the kitchen table. I was considering leaving Brian a note to say I’d gone to shower and get dressed, when he stepped back into the kitchen.
“Thanks,” he said, pocketing the list of names.
“Sure.”
“Will you be home this afternoon?”
“I suppose.”
“Good. We’ll talk again soon.”
Was that a threat? His voice held no affection, but when I opened the front door he put his hand on my arm.
“I’ve been so damn busy, I’m only realizing now that I’ve missed you.”
“Should you be handling this case?”
Brian gave me one of his heart-stopping grins. “Why not? You don’t know the vic, right?”
I saw him out, then headed for the bathroom. I was dressed and putting on makeup when I glanced out the window as they were removing the body. Car doors slammed. A minute later they were gone.
I was halfway to the university when it dawned on me: the kitchen door had been unlocked when I went to look at the body. Gayle had lied. She had gone outside before waking me up.
A shiver ran through me. I failed to stifle the question that filled my head. Had Gayle killed the man before he had a chance to murder her?
CHAPTER THREE
I drove slowly to the university, churning over everything Gayle had done and told me since she’d turned up unexpectedly. I loved my sister and feared for her life, but part of me wondered if her story about Shawn killing her boyfriend was true.
Gayle had been an imaginative child. She had an imaginary playmate named Hans, and insisted that Mom fix a plate of food for Hans at every meal or she wouldn’t eat. She stuck to it, too, which led to our throwing out lots of food in those years. Hans attended kindergarten with Gayle, until she decided she didn’t want to share her valentine cards with him. As suddenly as he’d appeared, Hans disappeared. She never mentioned him again; it was a though he’d never existed.
In middle school and high school, she had a few dorky friends with whom she played Dungeons and Dragons and other web-based electronic games. Gayle’s grades were average, though she’d scored high enough on her SAT boards to get her into the college of her choice in Colorado. She called me late one night during finals of her freshman year, sounding frantic and out of breath. This guy she’d been dating was stalking her. I told her to calm down so she could tell me about it. Instead, she grew more agitated and angry at me for not taking her side. She hung up and refused to answer the phone when I called her back.
I called my parents to inform them of Gayle’s state of mind. My mother called the university the following morning. The dean promised to look into it, and called back later that day. Gayle had refused to talk to her, but her roommate, Linda, had plenty to say. She and her boyfriend were considering filing a complaint against Gayle. It seemed my sister had developed a crush on the guy and had taken to following him around wherever he went.
When my parents called Gayle
Carol Wallace, Bill Wallance