The Body in the Sleigh Read Online Free PDF Page A

Freeman’s hair was slicked back and he was wearing one of his Carhartt jackets that didn’t smell like bait, over several flannel shirts. The top one was pressed. Nan had a bright blue fleece on that matched her eyes and the slight sheen in her white hair. Faith remembered that their daughter was working at Hair Extrordinaire across the bridge in Sedgwick and Nan had obviously been there recently—getting ready for the holidays. Faith was happy to see them. She was always happy to see them, but a little uneasy too. Freeman was one of the few fishermen who still had his boat in the water. Why wasn’t he working today? It was sunny and milder than it had been the day before. The icicles hanging from the roof had been dripping steadily all morning.
    Faith led the way toward the seating area, Tom came down, and everyone exchanged pleasantries. The casserole (scalloped potatoes and ham) and the pie (lemon meringue, Tom’s favorite) had beenhanded over and Faith’s thanks were genuine. Nan was one of the best cooks on Sanpere.
    Then they came to the point.
    â€œThe girl you found; it was Norah Taft. Thought you might not have heard and that you’d want to know,” Freeman said.
    Faith realized that the girl’s identity, or lack thereof, had indeed never been far from her thoughts. Taft wasn’t an island name. Yet, from his tone of voice, it sounded as if Freeman had known her.
    Tom reached over and took her hand.
    â€œHer mother was a Prescott,” Freeman continued. “Married someone from away and came back here after the divorce when Norah was fourteen or so. But we all knew her. She used to spend summers with her grandparents. Tiny little thing. No brothers or sisters, which is why Darlene—that’s her mother—used to send her home. Plenty of cousins.”
    Nan’s eyes were filled with tears. “She was a real favorite and the apple of her grandparents’ eye. They were gone when she came back to live for good and maybe they could have helped. She wasn’t the Norah we’d known. Angry at the world, especially her mom. Changed her name last year. We had to call her ‘Zara.’ Don’t know where that came from. She started running away when she was fifteen, but she always came back. Until last summer, that is. No one’s seen or heard from her since August. Never even started her senior year.”
    The only reference Faith knew to “Zara” was the Spanish-owned clothing outfit that had come under fire in 2007 for marketing a handbag with swastikas on it, then again several months later for a T-shirt with an update of the racist late-nineteenth, early-twentieth-century golliwog figures. Either Norah Taft had come in contact with fashionistas or she’d simply liked the sound of the name.
    â€œYou were close to her,” Tom said.
    Freeman nodded, reached in his pocket for his red bandanna kerchief, and blew his nose loudly.
    â€œAs I say, we all knew her since she was born. She’d come to our house and make cookies with Nan and our grandkids. Took her out on the boat with me more than once. There wasn’t an evil bone in her body. I don’t know what happened between her and her dad, but she never mentioned him when she came back and we never asked.”
    â€œWhat were people saying? About the divorce? About why her mother came home?” Faith asked. She was sure they knew.
    â€œThe same old saw.” Nan threw an apologetic look at Tom, indicating she wasn’t lumping him in with this sorry group. “He’d found another woman and left them flat is what people said. To my knowledge, Norah never was in touch with him again.”
    A hard time to lose a parent under any circumstances, Faith thought. Norah would have been around Ben’s age. With a foot in childhood and the other stepping toward adulthood, kids entering adolescence could easily slip into any number of crevasses—ones that