Diana opened the door and motioned for Nan to come inside. The girl’s face was dewy with perspiration and her hands trembled. “I need to tell you something.”
“You look like you need a cold drink,” Diana said. “Lemonade?”
“Yeah. I’ll get it.”
“No, this time you sit at the table and I’ll get the drink. Ice?”
“Yeah. I mean please.”
Diana poured two glasses of lemonade. She’s going to tell me Glen was seeing Penny, Diana thought as she added ice to each glass. She’s going to break it to me that Glen was “cheating” with Penny. Is she going to tell me he was cheating with her, too? Is she going to ask me to let him go so he can be with her? Or is she hoping that hearing about his involvement with Penny is going to make me end our relationship so he can rush into her arms?
Diana placed a glass in front of Nan then sat down across from her. “All right, Nan, what’s the problem?”
Nan took a long drink of her icy lemonade and looked down at her hands. “I know you really liked Penny. You don’t like me and she didn’t either.”
“You don’t let people like you, Nan. You never smile, you’re rude—even hostile—and, I’m sorry to say this, you have a tendency to be sneaky.”
“I never stole anything from you people!” Nan flared.
“I know, but you eavesdrop. You even bring in food and hide it, like your potato chips. We don’t care if you keep potato chips or sugar cookies or soft drinks or just about anything you like. It’s the fact that you keep it hidden that bothers us.”
“I thought you’d get mad.”
“Your mother has worked in this house for twelve years. I know she didn’t tell you that either Simon or I ran such a tight ship. Simon doesn’t have strict rules and I certainly don’t. I think you do it because you like to feel that you’re getting by with something. You don’t like having to work for people, and hiding things gives you a sense that those people don’t have ultimate control over you.”
Nan gave her a bleak look. “You sound like a psychologist.”
“I think a psychologist would have a more sophisticated analysis of the problem. I’m just giving an uneducated opinion.”
“Well, you’re right, of course. You’re pretty, you’re smart and educated, you’ve done all kinds of exciting things, and your life is just a bowl of cherries so of course you’d be right. You don’t even know how to be wrong, how to fail.”
“Nan, you don’t know as much about my life as you think you do. Believe me, I’ve failed at quite a few things and my life hasn’t been the nonstop thrill ride you seem to think.” Diana took a sip of her lemonade, watching as Nan nervously drummed the fingers of her left hand on the table. “But you didn’t come here to talk about whether or not I like you. You said you wanted to talk about Penny.”
“Yeah. Well, I do—want to talk about Penny, that is.” Nan took a deep breath as if girding herself for what she had to say. “I guess I’d better start at the beginning, which was around April. You know I didn’t do too well my first year at Marshall. I hated school except for one class—my history class from Glen . . . Dr. Austen. I didn’t love the subject, but . . . well . . .”
“You thought you loved Glen.”
Nan flashed Diana a startled look. “How did you know? Did he tell you?”
“No,” Diana said flatly. “He did not.”
“Oh. Well who?”
“I don’t think that matters.”
“Was it Penny? You have to tell me if it was Penny.”
Diana not only didn’t like the girl’s demanding tone, but it made her suspicious. Was Nan here really to get information about Penny, perhaps for Glen? She decided to see where the conversation led and answered. “It was not Penny.”
“Oh.” Nan sounded relieved. “That’s good.”
“Why?”
“Well, it just is. You’ll understand when I tell my story.”
The doorbell rang. Diana felt a tinge of alarm. Would Jeffrey Cavanaugh dare to come here after the scene in the park? She knew Simon would go to the door and she wished he wouldn’t. If she’d been with him, she would have somehow prevented him from opening the door. He thought he was invincible, but at seventy-five, she didn’t think he was a match for a bulky, enraged man almost thirty years younger.
“You’re not even listenin’ to me,” Nan accused.
“Yes I am. My attention wandered for just a couple of seconds when the doorbell rang. We had some trouble earlier today with Jeffrey Cavanaugh—I hope that isn’t him.”
“What kind of trouble?” Nan’s face bore a look of fear rather than mere curiosity.
“It doesn’t matter. Go on with your story.”
“Yeah, well, like I said, it starts in April when I got up my nerve to go see Glen—Dr. Austen—in his office. I pretended to be all worried about a paper I’d turned in, but I really just wanted to see him, to see if he . . . well, to see if he was interested in me. As more than a student. You understand?”
“I think I get the picture,” Diana said dryly.
“Well—”
Simon appeared at the kitchen doorway. “Why, hello, Nan! I didn’t know you were here.”
“Nan thought she left her wallet here last night,” Diana said quickly, not wanting to embarrass the girl into silence. She would tell Simon the truth later.
“Well, you can’t be without your wallet. No money, no driver’s license—what a nuisance.”
Nan nodded then turned her attention to her lemonade. She took a drink that went down with a loud gulp.
Simon looked at Diana. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Diana, but you need to come into the library for a few minutes. Blake Wentworth is here and he says it’s imperative that he talk to you and he doesn’t have much time.”
Simon had to know that one of the last people she wanted to see was a Cavanaugh minion. Still, Simon must have had a good reason for letting the man inside.
Diana looked at Nan. “I’m sorry but I have to go for a few minutes. Please don’t leave.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Nan’s agitation seemed to have grown. Her lips twitched slightly. “Okay. But I can’t stay for very long.”
“I’ll be right back. I promise.”
Blake sat on the only uncomfortable chair in the room. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, balancing his chin on his clasped hands. The shining black waves of his hair were tousled, and his skin was pale and seemingly drawn more tightly over the patrician bones of his face. When Diana entered the room, with Simon right behind her, he stood and gave her an uncertain smile. “Hello, Miss Sheridan.”
“I can’t imagine why you’re here.”
Blake’s smile vanished and his face took on a look of intense discomfort. “I came to apologize for Jeff.”
“He couldn’t do that for himself?” Diana asked as she sat down on a couch, keeping her voice cool. “Or he doesn’t feel he should apologize to me?”
“Both,” Blake said, lowering himself to the edge of the chair. “He’s at the hotel with Lenore, which is why I can’t stay long. I don’t want to leave Lenore alone with him if he decides to do something else stupid. But for right now, he doesn’t think he owes you an apology. In fact, I don’t believe he’s thinking clearly about anything.”
“Diana told me about the scene in the park,” Simon intervened. “I can’t feel sorry about Jeffrey’s emotional state when his behavior sent his daughter into a state of complete terror. At first, we couldn’t calm her. Finally, we were able to make her rest with Clarice in attendance and a movie playing to divert her attention. Willow won’t forget today’s scene any time soon, though. Jeffrey certainly doesn’t act like a man who wants to win back his daughter. He doesn’t act like a man who cares at all about her emotional state.”
“He does care about her,” Blake said sincerely. “I’m not saying that he was ever a great father. He wasn’t harsh with her. He simply doesn’t know how to express affection, especially for a baby. He has no experience with children and his own life has been rather bizarre—”
“Lenore told me a bit about his trials and tribulations,” Diana interrupted. “It’s all very sad, but it doesn’t have anything to do with how he’s treating his daughter. And frankly, I wonder how he really treated her when she still lived with him. You say he wasn’t harsh, but how do you know? Maybe Penny ran away to protect Willow from him.”
“I don’t know why Penny ran away. I had my opinions at the time, then I changed my mind when we came here and learned about Penny’s life in Huntington. Today, though, I believe my original opinion was correct.”
“You thought she had a lover,” Diana said flatly.
“Yes. That’s what I thought at first. That’s what I think now.”
“Why?” Simon asked.
Blake hesitated. “I’ll tell you about earlier today. Then you might understand Jeff’s state of mind when he came to the park. After I’d dropped off Lenore, Jeff expected me to join him at the hospital as soon as possible. Not long after I got there, Penny woke up.”
“She woke up!” Simon and Diana said in unison.
“Yes. You’re both smiling. You wouldn’t be if you’d been there.” Blake closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “I have never seen anyone in such agony. The doctor said some of the burns were so deep they’d destroyed the nerve endings and she felt nothing from them, but all the others—well, her thrashing, her shrieking in agony, her one remaining eye looking as if it were going to explode from her face were the most horrific things I’ve ever seen in my life. I’ll remember that scene until I die.”
“My God,” Simon said softly, painfully.
Diana, too stricken to speak, felt as if a shard of ice had pierced her heart. Penny with her lilting laugh and twinkling eyes. Penny.
“Jeff was frantic, almost hysterical. The doctor said Penny couldn’t stand this much pain—he had to give her a drug to put her back to sleep. I can’t remember the name but it was something very powerful. Of course, Jeff told him to do it, do it now.” Blake hesitated. “Then the doctor told Jeffrey the drug could have adverse effects on the baby.”
“The baby?” Diana whispered.
Blake nodded. “It turns out that Penny is about two months’ pregnant.”
Glass crashed in the kitchen. The three of them looked at each other blankly for a moment before Diana jumped up. “Excuse me, Blake. I’ll see what’s wrong.”
Diana found the shattered glass in the doorway between the kitchen and the hall, a mere two feet from the narrow second entrance to the library. Ice cubes lay scattered amid the glass, and the back door hung open about two inches. Diana rushed to it in time to see Nan jumping into her old car that she’d parked behind the house. Nan had rolled down her window and Diana called out to her, but Nan didn’t turn her head. She simply picked up speed and flew past the house, headed for the paved driveway down to the road.
Eavesdropping again, Diana thought. You couldn’t change old habits in a day, and Nan’s compulsion to eavesdrop had gotten the best of her again. This time, though, she’d heard that Penny was pregnant, an announcement apparently so startling, or appalling, that the girl had dropped her glass of lemonade and run.
Diana decided to clean up the shattered glass after Blake left. He’d said he couldn’t stay long and she had questions for him. Just as she reentered the library, the phone rang, and she motioned to Simon, who was seated, that she would answer. After her “Hello,” Glen asked in a falsely cheerful voice, “How are you today, Diana?”
She briefly imagined Glen lying in bed with his nineteen-year-old student who no doubt adored him, but whom he no doubt found merely useful. She barely managed, “Today has been bad.”
“Bad? How?”
Although she had not talked to Glen since the police located Jeffrey Cavanaugh, she was certain that Nan had told him about Cavanaugh and the scene he’d created when he came to collect his daughter Saturday night. Still, she didn’t want to say more than necessary. “Penny came out of her coma—”
“What!” Glen sounded stunned. “How is she?”
“Horrible. All she did was shriek in agony. Awake, she can feel the burns. They had to put her back to sleep just to keep her alive. You can die of pain, you know.”
“Oh God, sure.”
“And finally, Nan came by here to speak with me.”
She could almost feel Glen tensing. “Speak with you about what?”
“I don’t know. We got a visitor who can’t stay long and she dashed away.” Diana hesitated, but she couldn’t help saying, “I’m sure she’ll either call me or come back. She seemed almost desperate to get something off her chest.”
“Is that so?” Glen tried for a mocking laugh that sounded something like a chicken cackling. “I can’t imagine what the bright and beautiful Nan Murphy so desperately wants to confide.”
“Neither do I. I’ll just have to wait until tonight, or probably tomorrow when she comes to work.” Diana looked over at Blake, who was talking quietly with Simon. “I’m afraid I have to get back to our company, now. I’m being rude.”
“Who’s there?”
“I’ll talk with you soon, Glen. Good-bye.”
Diana hung up and almost smiled, thinking about the state Glen must be in right now. Of course, Nan had wanted to tell her about the affair, and of course, Glen knew it. His perfect little world was about to pop—no more Diana, no more Simon Van Etton. Whatever happened to him, he deserves it, Diana thought.
Now her first concern was Penny. Diana returned to Simon on the couch. “In spite of the horrible scene at the hospital, did the doctor say if Penny is improving?”
Blake gave her a sympathetic but direct look. “He said infection has started. It’s what they expected. They’re giving Penny too many antibiotics for me to name, which often save people who wouldn’t have stood a chance twenty years ago. The doctor said with burns as extensive as Penny’s, though, the infection is often too much for the antibiotics to fight.”
“Then I suppose worrying about the effect of the sedative on the fetus is pointless.” Blake nodded and continued to look at her, the question in his eyes. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, Blake.” Diana knew that he was wondering if she had any idea about the baby’s paternity. She was certain she did, but although she was furious with Glen, she would not set an enraged and dangerous Jeffrey Cavanaugh on him. “I didn’t know Penny was seeing anyone.”
“Well, this news has just devastated Jeff,” Blake said. “He still loved her. I think he would have taken her back. He’s always thought there was another man, but thinking and knowing aren’t the same, much less finding out she was carrying another man’s child. That’s why he completely lost his head today. First the doctor told us infection had set in, then Penny woke up with those blood-curdling shrieks, and then Jeff found out about the baby. He literally ran out of the burn unit and out of the hospital. I was right behind him, but still I couldn’t grab him before he got in the car and locked the doors. I was certain he was headed for your house, Diana, and I followed him straight to the park.”
“I wish you could have reached him before he confronted us in the park,” Diana said. “Willow was actually having a good time. She opened up to Lenore and even told Lenore her wedding plans. She made a new friend her own age. She was giggling like a normal, carefree five-year-old.” Diana paused. “Then Jeffrey arrived.”
“I’m sorry, Diana. I got to him as fast as I could.”
“I know that now. But ever since, we’ve all been tense and waiting for him to come back.”
Blake gave her a small smile. “I wouldn’t worry about that. Lenore forced two of her tranquilizers on him. He was calming down when I left without saying where I was going. I hope he’ll sleep for the rest of the afternoon—I don’t think he’s had more than a few hours of sleep since the FBI called him Saturday morning.” He gave her and Simon that small, bleak smile again then stood. “I really have to get back. I don’t like leaving Lenore alone with him.”
“You’re afraid for your wife’s safety around her own brother?” Diana asked sharply. “Then even you must think he’s dangerous.”
“I think he’s upset. Terribly upset and angry, and Jeff doesn’t handle anger well. He’s a little like his father in that way.”
Diana and Simon also stood and walked behind Blake to the library exit, where he paused and looked back at the rear bay window with its stained-glass inset of the blue-and-gold water lily. “That’s unbelievably beautiful,” he said wonderingly.
“I got my interest in all things Egyptian from my mother,” Simon told him. “When I was very young, she told me a myth about a blue water lily. She loved the myth so much, my father ordered new glass for the center window with the lily inset. He said this way my mother would be able to look at her blue water lily every day.” Simon smiled. “Father usually acted like a man totally without sentimentality, but I think he was a closet romantic.”
Now Blake laughed softly. “I’ve always thought the same thing about Jeff.”
When dinnertime rolled around, no one seemed to have much appetite. Simon surprised Diana by suggesting they order pizza. Willow was delighted, and Diana remembered that the little girl loved pizza, hence Simon’s suggestion, so she phoned in an order for an extra-large pizza with five toppings and two liters of soft drinks.
The delivery of the pizza caused great excitement, well acted by Diana, Clarice, and Simon but genuine for Willow. Simon carried the box into the kitchen as if it were a five-tier wedding cake, and everyone inhaled deeply when he lifted the lid. “Oh, it smells wonnerful!” Willow exclaimed. “I might eat the whole thing.” After her third large slice of pizza, she announced she was stuffed. Everyone else declared they felt the same, and the rest of the pizza was stored in the refrigerator.
Afterward, Clarice and Simon sat down to watch a long-running weekly news program. Willow took her coloring book and giant box of crayons and sat down at one of the small tables in the library. Diana decided to put in some time on the computer, searching the Internet for information on Jeffrey Cavanaugh.
She came up with the most basic information: Cavanaugh’s date and place of birth; parents, Morgan and Cornelia Webster Cavanaugh; first wife, Yvette DuPrés, death ten years previous ruled a suicide; marriage three years later to Penelope Ann O’Keefe. None of the articles mentioned Penny’s disappearance. Cavanaugh had received an MBA from Harvard and had become head of Cavanaugh and Wentworth real estate developing company at age thirty, after his father had been murdered. Police had never apprehended Morgan Cavanaugh’s killer.
Most articles remarked on how the shy, reclusive Cavanaugh had proved himself a master of finance, doubling the worth of Cavanaugh and Wentworth by the time he was thirty-five, and assuming the title of chief executive officer after taking the business public. That same year, Blake Wentworth, son of Morgan Cavanaugh’s late partner, Charles Wentworth, became chief operating officer of the business. Because Cavanaugh had recently started a small aeronautics company, some effusive articles referred to Cavanaugh as a twenty-first-century Howard Hughes.
Diana knew if she searched further, she would find more information, but she couldn’t concentrate. She kept seeing Jeffrey in the park, facing her with his fists clenched, and the flash of tears in his eyes. She thought about Blake telling them of Penny’s horrific awakening and the announcement that she was two months’ pregnant. And she thought about Nan. Homely, ungracious, seemingly impassive Nan sitting in the kitchen drenched in nervous perspiration, her usually detached gaze filled with anxiety.
And I just walked off and left her, Diana thought. True, Blake had said he couldn’t stay long and he seemed to have something important to say, but so had Nan. Diana didn’t like Nan, but then she didn’t really know Nan. There had to be more to the girl than she’d seen during the months Nan had worked in this house. Even if there wasn’t, Nan was the daughter of Martha Murphy, who’d been a loyal and beloved employee of Simon’s for twelve years. Diana knew she owed Nan more consideration if for no other reason than just because she was Martha’s daughter.
Guilt descended on Diana. She tried to fight it off by making excuses for her cavalier treatment of Nan that afternoon, but nothing worked. Aside from the guilt, she felt a twinge of concern. Nan had said that she wanted to start her story at the beginning, and her involvement with Glen had been the beginning, which meant she had more to say—and it involved Penny.
Maybe Nan meant to tell Diana only that Penny, too, had been involved with Glen, but while that would have caused Nan pain, it couldn’t have been responsible for her look of apprehension. And hearing that Penny was pregnant had caused the girl to drop her glass. Diana could see how learning of the pregnancy might have been a surprise, but not enough to make Nan send a glass shattering to the floor and then flee at top speed. No, only fear could be responsible. But fear of what?
Diana abandoned her Internet search and went up to her room. She looked up Nan’s cell phone number in her address book and called three times, only to be sent to voice mail. Nan still lived with her mother, so Diana looked up Martha’s home phone number in the telephone directory and called. After seven rings, she hung up. Even Martha’s answering machine had apparently been turned off.
By eight o’clock, Willow had begun to yawn, and Romeo could not open his eyes beyond slits. They went through the ritual of carrying him up in the elevator, putting him to bed where he immediately fell into unconsciousness, and dressing Willow in her pink pajamas. She crawled under the covers of her bed and said in a regretful voice, “I’m sorry, Diana, but I’m too sleepy for a bedtime story.”
“That’s all right, honey.” Diana hoped that Willow didn’t hear the relief in her voice. She was too preoccupied to come up with any kind of story that might entertain the little girl. “Do you want me to just sit with you until you go to sleep?”
Willow nodded and Diana took her place in the comfortable chair where Clarice had spent so much time watching movies made for the younger set. Tonight Diana had vowed to free Clarice to do what she pleased, which seemed to be spending her time with Simon discussing current events. She and Willow had left the two in a lively discussion of the situation in the Middle East.
Within fifteen minutes, Willow had drifted into a deep sleep. Diana tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door cracked so they could hear Willow if she called out. The night owl Christabel followed Diana downstairs and into the kitchen, where, out of habit, Diana opened the refrigerator door and looked for a snack. She settled on a glass of Coke then paced back upstairs to her room and tried Nan’s phone number again. No answer.
Diana tried to read the latest murder mystery she’d bought, but she couldn’t concentrate well enough to follow the plot. She decided to straighten out her closet and managed to group all of her summer tops together before she tired of that task. She closed the doors to the bathroom connecting her room to Willow’s and put on a CD. She lay down on her bed to listen to Evanescence, waiting for “My Immortal,” to which she usually sang out her heart. Tonight, though, she kept mixing up the words and finally stopped the CD at the end of the song.
At nine o’clock she tried Nan’s phone again. Still no answer. Diana knew that worrying about a nineteen-year-old not answering her cell phone was ridiculous, but she worried nevertheless. She couldn’t forget Nan’s anxiety, her frightened eyes, the glass she’d broken in spite of her carefully maintained air of unconcern about the world in general. The girl had been desperate to open her heart, and Diana might as well have turned her away at the door. She’d put Nan on hold while she listened to a more important visitor—someone she barely knew—and she felt shame as well as a sense of neglected duty. She’d already let down Penny; and she didn’t want to let down another woman who seemed to need her help.
Diana grabbed a light jacket and her tote bag, which she’d never gotten around to cleaning out after her trip last week. She casually descended the stairs and walked into the library, where Simon and Clarice now were watching a mystery show on the gigantic high-definition television that Simon had bought the previous year. They both looked up when they heard Diana’s keys rattle.
“Going somewhere?” Simon asked.
Diana didn’t intend to tell them that she was worried about Nan. If they thought there was cause for worry, they would immediately begin trying to talk her out of going to the Murphy home. Simon would suggest asking the police to check on Nan, although Diana knew that the police would not find the fact that a young woman wasn’t answering her cell phone a little after nine o’clock reason enough for sending a patrol car to her house. Diana hated lying to them, but if she told the truth, then overcame their objections and left for Nan’s, their enjoyment of the television show would be ruined by their concern for her, and for the first time in forty-eight hours, they both looked relaxed and almost happy.
“I have a sudden craving for ice cream,” Diana lied blithely. “Also, a tabloid. Maybe two. I’m woefully behind on what all of my Hollywood friends are up to these days. I think I’ll go to the convenience store and do a little shopping. I’m also restless, so I might ride around for a while before I stop at the store. Is there anything I can get for you two?”
Clarice immediately turned worried eyes to her. “Are you sure you should go out alone, dear?”
“I can’t let fear of Jeffrey Cavanaugh make me a prisoner, Clarice. Besides, I don’t think he’ll try anything else tonight. Even he knows better than to push his luck.”
“Is your cell phone charged?” Simon asked.
Diana smiled. “Charged and located in a convenient pocket in the lining of my bag.”
“Well, all right. What kind of ice cream are you craving?”
“Uh, cherry swirl. Clarice, do you like cherry swirl?”
“I rarely eat ice cream, but tonight cherry swirl sounds delicious.”
“Get a gallon,” Simon ordered. “And none of the cheap stuff.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Diana smiled. “Be back soon.”
The night air was warm but lacking the humidity of Friday evening. Diana took a deep breath. Although it was late August, she thought she could smell the coming autumn. She loved fall, when the leaves changed colors and the mornings became crisp without being cold. Tonight the stars were so bright they almost twinkled, and the iridescent three-quarter moon glowed. Neither the warm air nor the panoply of light could ease Diana’s sense of dread, though. She had a dark feeling that the Nan she had seen today—the Nan she had never seen before—might do something to herself. And all because of Glen, Diana thought furiously. All because of the unprincipled, deceitful man whom Diana had been seeing for months. How glad she was she’d never let the relationship become intimate, but that’s probably what had sent him looking for sex in an easy target like Nan.
And Penny? She wasn’t an easy target, Diana thought as she swept down the narrow, curvy road through Ritter Park. Why had Penny become involved with him? Clarice had said she’d first seen Glen come to Penny’s house about two months ago. And how old was the baby that Penny carried in her wreck of a body? Two months. Was the baby the reason she was running away? Diana had no idea how Penny felt about abortion, but she was certain that if Penny decided to have one, it would not be something she could do without guilt. Maybe she couldn’t do it at all.
The Murphy house sat on an acre of land west of Huntington on a knoll overlooking Interstate 64. The house and land had belonged to Nan’s paternal grandparents, who’d bequeathed both to their son and made him promise not to sell so much as a foot of the land. After Nan’s father died when she was seven, Mrs. Murphy had told Simon that she wished she could sell half the land for money she desperately needed, but she’d made the same promise to her husband that he’d made to his father.
Diana turned onto the short, neglected lane leading to the house Nan shared with her mother. She passed two houses with lights burning in the windows, another one that sat in darkness, and finally reached the Murphy house at the end of the lane. Two lights shone in the house that wasn’t much larger than Penny’s—one light in what Diana guessed to be a bedroom, and another filtering dimly from farther back in the house. Diana pulled in the driveway behind Nan’s old Pontiac, took a deep breath, and walked up the two steps leading to the front door of the ugly yellowish-green house.
She knocked. No one came to the door, but Diana heard music playing loudly inside. Perhaps Nan hadn’t heard her, she thought, and knocked again. Still no answer, but Diana knew Nan must be inside. So why wouldn’t she come to the door?
Diana glanced around. The moon and the stars did not seem to shine as brightly on this drab little lane, and the other two occupied houses looked far away. Diana felt her palms grow wet, and suddenly she knew that she should not have come alone to this relatively isolated spot at night, but she’d had no choice. After Jeffrey’s demonstration this afternoon, she couldn’t ask Simon to leave Clarice alone in the house with Willow. Her only real friend lay dying in the burn unit at the hospital and her “boyfriend” was not an option.
Leaving wasn’t an option, either, she told herself, even though she wanted to make a run for her car and get away from this place. When had Nan become a priority with her? After what happened to Penny, Diana mentally answered herself. She hadn’t taken Penny’s anxious tone seriously enough Thursday night on the phone. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Nan.
Diana twisted the doorknob. To her surprise, the front door swung open. Music washed over her. Barry White sang “Never, Never Gonna Give You Up” in his fathomless, seductive voice as Diana stepped into the small living room dimly lit by a hall light. To her right, a long, sagging couch huddled beneath a wildly flowered slipcover, and beside it was a well-worn recliner. The coffee table looked as if it might tumble over with its load of magazines, tabloid newspapers, dirty cups and glasses, a couple of bodice-ripper romance novels, and two heaping ashtrays. No doubt before Nan’s mother left for Portland the previous week, the room had been spotless.
She called out loudly, “Nan!” but received no answer. Diana felt like an intruder, and hesitated actually searching the house for Nan, but she thought if she’d come this far, she should make an all-out effort to find the girl before returning home.
Diana glanced at the front door and decided to leave it open. Somehow, the open door made her feel less like a trespasser. It also made her feel less cut off from the rest of the world, she admitted to herself, although that world was oddly dark and quiet. She called for Nan again then decided to check out the room with the light—the room she was certain was a bedroom.
She left the living room and started down the hall, noticing the pull-down stairs that led to the attic. The attic light funneled through a narrow hole in the ceiling and down the stairs, and a dusty suitcase sat in the hall. Perhaps Nan had retrieved it from the attic and made a second trip up those stairs.
Diana stuck her head into each of the small bedrooms and found them empty. She called for Nan again but still received no answer, and sighing in frustration, she decided to check out the attic. As she grasped the side of the stairs, she felt as if a raindrop hit the top of her head. Diana reached up and touched the side part in her hair. Wet. She pulled her hand away and looked at it. Red. Then another drop landed on her temple and rolled lazily down her face. She wiped it off with the back of her hand and looked up to see more drops falling, faster and faster.
Diana’s heart beat harder. Her first instinct was to run out of the house, get in her car, and leave as fast as possible, but she couldn’t. Nan was hurt—maybe fatally, maybe not. If she wasn’t dead, Diana could not run away from an injured girl who could bleed to death.
Diana began to climb the steps, dread settling over her like a heavy cloak. She thought about calling 911, but she could not tell them anything except that someone—or something—was bleeding in an attic. She needed more information. She wouldn’t linger. She wouldn’t actually go into the attic. If she could just peep over the edge of the flooring . . .
At last, she was high enough. The naked bulb in the center of the room lit up the shabby attic as if it were a movie set, showing layers of dust, cobwebs, torn insulation, years’ worth of discarded furniture, and knickknacks sitting on the grit-covered floor.
Diana saw all of this within five seconds. Then she climbed one more step, her feet still on the ladder, her sweating hands gripping the attic floor. She glanced to her left, from where the blood had dripped on her. Shock dealt Diana a hammer blow as she looked at Nan Murphy, lying inches away from the attic opening, her vacant eyes fixed on Diana, a long gash nearly severing her neck, a pool of violent red spreading around her and oozing toward the attic opening.
Raging fear sucked the air from Diana’s lungs. She couldn’t have screamed even if it would have helped. She felt dizzy and held tightly to the edge of the attic floor for a moment, trying to regain her equilibrium. Starting to hyperventilate, she carefully stepped down onto the next stair and loosened a hand from the edge of the attic floor to place on the stair rail. Suddenly Diana heard a rushing noise before a burst of dust and dirt flew into her eyes, blinding her. Then she heard an almost inhuman grunt as someone placed a shoe against her chest and thrust. Her sweating hands lost their hold, and the steps seemed to disappear. Diana heard herself screaming thinly as she crashed to the floor of the hall.