Mom Zone Mysteries 02 Staying Home Is a Killer (20 page)

“Pink Girl, Mommy. Pink Girl.” Livvy continued her refrain.

The headlights closed. I pressed the gas, but the next incline ate up any speed the Cherokee had. The skin between my shoulder blades tightened as I tensed. Suddenly the headlights glared in the driver’s-side mirror. I pulled the Cherokee slightly toward the snow-bank on the edge of the drop-off. The headlights inched up to the back door. I glanced over my shoulder. A pickup. The wheel jumped in my hands. I gripped it and pulled back to the left. Snow flew as my tires churned into the snowbank.

I heard the roar of the truck’s engine. It floated closer. With a scrape of metal, the truck growled past. I fought the wheel and touched the brakes. “Lightly, lightly.” I realized I was repeating my dad’s words the day he took me out to a deserted, frozen parking lot and taught me to drive on ice.

My side mirror dangled against the car door. “He hit me!” I was incredulous. “On purpose!” The driver of the truck accelerated. I knew the driver wasn’t going to stop. I maneuvered out of the snow-bank. On the sanded road again, I pressed the gas and followed the truck. “White. New, with curves, fancy taillight covers,” I inventoried as the mirror flapped against the door like a wounded bird.

The Cherokee inched closer. “Eight-oh-six,” I said out loud, reading off the license as the truck pulled farther away. There was no way I was going to catch it. I slowed down and pulled over. Blood pounded in my forehead and I felt a headache coming on. I found a scrap of paper and wrote down the first three numbers on the license plate and the details about the truck. My pen jumped and wiggled over the page. I pulled my phone out of my purse and dialed 911.

“Mommy?”

“What?” I said to Livvy.

“Vernon Emergency Services. What is your emergency, please?” asked the calm voice in my ear at the same time Livvy said, “Pink Girl, now?”

“A car sideswiped me. I’m on Rim Rock Road.” I leaned back and patted the floorboard with my right hand until I felt the small toy.

“You need to go by the Windemere Police Station and pick up an accident form.”

“You’re not going to send someone out?” I angled my arm back and Livvy grabbed the toy out of my hand. I’d spent a lot of time retrieving toys from the floorboard in the last year. My triceps were more toned than they’d ever been.

“No. Just pick up the form and fill it out.”

I closed the phone and carefully navigated toward home. Since the 911 operator didn’t feel it was very urgent, I’d pick up the form in the morning.

As soon as I stepped in the door at home the phone rang. Probably Mitch. I shushed Rex’s barking, set Livvy down, and dropped the diaper bag on the floor. I paused before I picked up the phone. What was I going to tell him? There wasn’t much he could do to help me out and he didn’t need to be worried about me in the middle of his flying. I’d just wing it. Maybe he’d have news that they were coming back.

“Hello?”

“Give it up.”

Not Mitch. “What?” I struggled to place the voice. It was a medium kind of voice. Nothing special about it. It wasn’t distinctly male or female, soft or loud.

“Not ready to give it up yet?” The bland tone and the pronunciation sounded almost automated. “It will only get worse.”

“What are you talking about? Did you try to run me off the road?”

Chapter Nineteen

S
ilence.

“What? What are you talking about?” I shouted. Livvy turned from her spot in front of Rex’s kennel and watched me curiously. I took a deep breath. “Listen—”

A click and then a dial tone came over the line. I leaned against the counter. The deliberate, slow voice was worse than someone yelling threats. The robotic, automatic delivery chilled me.

I hit the hang-up button and then punched in the buttons to trace the call. A recording informed me that the service I requested could not be performed. I carefully set the phone down. Then I scrambled eggs and made toast on autopilot. For once, I didn’t miss adult conversation at the dinner table. I needed time to think. So Livvy pushed her eggs around on her plate and ate her toast, smearing both her cheeks with grape jelly, while I tried to decide what to do.

I could call Thistlewait or the local police, but I wasn’t eager to do either one. I was already a suspect in two—
two
—murders and I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself. Less contact with “authorities” seemed better for me. And figuring out who was calling wouldn’t make them stop. I needed to get to the real problem: what the person wanted. I had to find out what “it” was and where “it” was.

After we ate, I stacked the dishes in the sink and got Livvy ready for bed. The bedtime routine of bath, story, and a song soothed me as much as it did Livvy.

“Good night, Livvy.” I adjusted her blanket and stood up.

“Where Daddy go?” Livvy was used to Daddy being gone on trips for a few days, so his abrupt departure hadn’t fazed her. But it had been several days and she missed him at bedtime.

“He went on a trip. He’ll be back as soon as he can.”

Livvy contemplated this for a few moments, then nodded.

“Good night.” I brushed her hair off her forehead and kissed her.

“Night, Mommy. I wove you.”

“I love you, too.”

I dropped into the overstuffed chair and clicked on the television, then switched back and forth between the twenty-four-hour news channels. Finally, there was a brief mention that American troops and aircraft had arrived in Turkey, the base for their operation of creating an air bridge to Osan. The reporter seemed almost apologetic as he said, “Things seem calm now in the capital city.” Like he was sorry he didn’t have a little more action and danger to report. Calm was good for me. I skimmed channels a little bit more. Watching the news, searching for any scrap of info, could become an obsession when Mitch was deployed to a dangerous place. The phone rang and I punched the
OFF
button, then snagged the phone before the second ring.

“Ellie? This is Rachel.”

“Hi! How are you?”

“Fine. Toby!” I pulled the phone away from my ear for a second. I could hear Rachel say, “I said get in the bathtub, now!” Rachel continued in her normal tones over the sound of a small riot in the background, “Sorry. You left me a message?”

“Yes. If you can’t talk about this, it’s fine. But I wondered if the OSI had been able to find Clarissa’s friend Karen Barakat?”

I heard a door shut and the background noise faded. “They’ve looked, but from what I’ve heard it sounds like they can’t find her.”

“You’re kidding. She’s disappeared?”

“Yep. She skipped on her apartment in the middle of the night and she hasn’t been back to her job since Clarissa died. Matt’s so frustrated. Seems like everything is turning into a dead end.”

“Really? Even stuff about Penny? The castor beans?”

“Yep.”

“They checked out Ballard Nova and Bree Reed?”

“Sure did. Ballard was in her store when Penny died and she had the video surveillance tapes to prove it, and Bree had driven over to Seattle to try and sell some of the art galleries there on her work. She’s got the receipts and witnesses to prove it, too.”

“All that proves is that they didn’t actually asphyxiate her or slit her wrists.” I had to pause and take a deep breath; those words brought awful images to my mind. “They could still have given her the beans.”

Pounding sounded down the phone line. I jerked the phone away again as Rachel shouted, “Mommy will be out in a minute. Sheesh! With four kids I can’t even take potty break alone. I’ve got to go.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I realized I’d picked up
Time to Sleep
, one of Livvy’s favorite picture books. I ran my hand over the cover and put it on the coffee table on top of the teetering stack of picture books. I knew sleep wouldn’t come easy for me tonight.

“Rex, come.” Rex trotted to the back fence, his tether zinging down the string between two maple trees as he ran his favorite circuit around the barren lilac bush and down the partial chain-link fence. “Come!” He twisted his head around to look at me over his shoulder, then turned back to the fence.

“Fine. You can stay out.” The snow in the back was over two feet deep. Two inches of new snow fell this morning. “I’m not ruining my shoes to drag you inside.”

“Kelly.” I slammed the handful of dog bones on the counter and teetered across the slick wooden floor of the kitchen into the living room. Did I really wear these shoes when I worked at the PR office? I stepped onto the Persian rug and felt steadier. “Kelly,” I said to the round-faced, brown-eyed girl I’d hired to watch Livvy, “I can’t get the dog to come inside. If he starts barking, take him off his tether and let him in. He’ll go right in his kennel for a treat. I left some on the counter. If he doesn’t want to come inside, just leave him out. There’s an old doghouse in the back. He can use that if he gets cold.” Not that he’d ever been in there since we’d owned him.

“Now, about Livvy. She’s been fed and bathed. She likes a story before bed. And I always sing her ‘Hush, Little Baby’ after she’s in bed.”

I walked over and kissed her on the head. “Bye, sweetie. See you in a little while.”

“Bye,” Livvy murmured, immersed in her game of blocks.

“Okay.” I backed reluctantly toward the door. “Oh, and change her diaper before bed.”

“Sure, Mrs. Avery,” Kelly said. “I’ve got four little brothers and sisters. We’ll be fine. Have a good time.”

“Oh. Okay. My cell phone number is by the phone.” I picked up my vintage clutch bag with the amethyst clasp and smoothed my hand over the soft skirt of my little black dress that Abby had talked me into buying. I hadn’t wanted to spend the money, but now, even after a little alteration, it still looked great. My hair was another story. I swept my bangs out of my eyes. I had to get my hair cut soon.

In the Cherokee, I checked the passenger-side mirror. I only had to squish down a little to see the reflection of the road. Bob at the gas station down the street had wired the mirror back on as best he could and ordered a replacement. I looked at the clock on the dashboard.

There was time for a quick detour. I’d arrive fashionably late, but if Abby arrived on time, she’d be stranded. I took my foot off the accelerator as I hit a patch of ice. Abby was never on time. I cleared the ice and accelerated. She’d never even know I was late.

I found the address on Ponderosa, pulled into the small parking lot, and crept along, checking numbers on the doors. The new apartment complex, the Cedars, perched on a steep hill with the apartment buildings rising three stories above the trees that gave the complex its name. I slowed as I passed building 400. Karen Barakat had lived at number 431. But the last apartment was 420. I tapped the steering wheel. I’d seen the manager’s office, but it was dark. Had Karen ever lived here?

A movement in the shadows caught my eye. A girl pushed a large rolling trash can through the fresh snow into position beside a Dumpster. I drove over to her and rolled down my window an inch. “Hi,” I said.

She jumped and spun around. As she turned, I realized she wasn’t a girl, but a young woman with a slight build. A thin black sweater with a low neckline clung to her spare body. Instead of looking sexy, she looked anorexic, all pointy collar bones and sharp elbows.

“I’m looking for number 431.”

She studied me and the interior of the Cherokee before she said, “Down there.” She pointed to a lane that I hadn’t seen. It wrapped around behind the soaring buildings. “They’re duplexes,” she explained.

“Thanks,” I said brightly. She didn’t reply, just lined up the other trash can. “I’m looking for Karen Barakat. Do you know her?”

The black lace choker that encircled her throat jumped as she swallowed. “She’s gone. She was next door to me, but she moved.”

“Did you know her?” I asked again.

“No.”

“I’d like to talk to her. Do you know where she moved?” I didn’t have much hope she’d know, but I had to ask.

She snorted. “Yeah, right. Like she left a forwarding address. I’m the manager here. She took off one night and left everything. She’s not coming back.”

I scrambled in the console and found one of my organizing brochures. “On the chance that she does come back or call, would you give her this? And tell her I really need to talk to her about her friend Clarissa. Did you know her?”

She shoved the paper into the skintight pocket of her black jeans with some difficulty. “No.” She turned and walked back down the lane to the duplexes.

I pulled alongside her. “Her stuff? Is it still here?”

“Nope. Try the Salvation Army.” She picked up her pace and walked swiftly away.

Ten minutes later, I circled higher and higher in the downtown parking garage until I found an empty slot. Then I click-clacked my way through the dim garage with the heavy concrete ceilings seeming to press in on my head. I joined a small group of matrons with shiny artificially blond hair twisted up in chignons pacing beside gray-headed and bald gentlemen in suits. I trailed them to the gallery and saw Abby waiting for me at the door.

“Thanks for meeting me here.” I handed over my coat and gloves. “Been here long?”

“Nope. Just got here. My parent conferences ran long. Let’s circulate before the good food is gone. I didn’t have time to eat.”

I realized I’d forgotten to feed myself in my rush to get Livvy ready for the babysitter. “Me either.”

We hit the hors d’oeuvres. “Okay. What are we trying to find out again?” Abby asked, reaching for a passing waiter’s tray. “These cheese things are wonderful. Want some?”

“Umm, I’m not sure. Yeah, get me some, too.” I spotted Aaron leaning against the wall with Bree a few feet away at the center of a a knot of people. Tonight three inches of bracelets clattered on each wrist as she moved. Her purple dress contrasted with her spiked red hair. She threw back her head and laughed. Aaron absorbed the scene without moving and I got the feeling he didn’t like what he saw even though his face didn’t change expressions. His body language, crossed arms, made me hesitate. I walked over.

“Hey, Aaron. Big day for Bree. She must be thrilled.”