Chapter 62
Later, after roughly ten hours of observation, Sheila and her husband were escorted to the safe house, where their children were also harbored.
“This is the safe house?” Sheila exclaimed, when they pulled up to the house at the end of a cul-de-sac. “This is where Cookie Crandall lived!”
“It’s empty and it’s ricin-free,” Detective Bryant snapped. Once inside, the small house, he gestured toward a young woman with long stringy hair and glasses, standing in the kitchen doorway. “This is Vicki Crane,” he said. “She is your caseworker.”
“Hello,” she said, shaking their hands.
“Caseworker?” Steve said. “Why?”
“Procedure, any time people are removed from their home,” the detective said, and walked off as his cell phone beeped.
“What’s going on here?” Sheila said, noticing her kids were sitting at the kitchen table—the only furniture in the place.
Vicki shrugged. “Your home isn’t safe for you yet. So you’ll need to stay here. I’ve arranged for more beds and clothes to be brought in. The beds should be here any minute. We’ll bring some food in, as well.”
“When can we go home, Mama?” Jonathon found his mother’s side and slipped his arms around her. “It’s boring here.”
“We’ll be bringing a TV in soon, as well,” Vicki said, and smiled. “Maybe you can go to the library and get some books and things.”
Jonathon looked horrified. He hated the local library.
“How long do you expect we’ll be here?” Steve said. “I thought this was going to be a few hours.”
“Oh no, sir. Ricin is very dangerous. We need to make certain it’s completely gone before you can move back in,” she said.
“That’s just great!” Steve said. “First, my wife stumbles on a dead body in our basement, then we’re told we can’t go home. Jesus. Merry goddamn Christmas.” His hands were on his hips.
Detective Bryant came back toward them.
“Any luck with the road blocks?” Steve asked him.
“No,” Bryant said. Unshaven and baggy eyed, Bryant was a mess. He sighed. “Nothing. No word back yet from the health department either. I’m afraid you’re going to have to make yourself comfortable here.”
Sheila’s heart raced. “But it’s Christmas in two days,” she said. “Will we be home in time for Christmas?” She couldn’t imagine celebrating it anywhere else but her home, with her tree, her fireplace, and her things surrounding her.
“I doubt it,” Vicki said. “I’m sorry. You may be here for Christmas.”
Sheila sighed and walked away from the group, toward the big window on the back wall. She remembered this place. When Cookie was in jail, a group of them had come here to gather her things. It was spare then; now it had a table and some chairs in it, which is where three of her children were gathered playing cards. She couldn’t imagine spending the holiday here. But she looked over at her kids at the table and realized it didn’t seem to be bothering them at all. They seemed to be having fun. Jonathan was a bit bored, but maybe that would be resolved when the TV arrived.
She gazed out the window at the mountains. This was the view that Cookie had every day and it was the view that Annie had talked about. Annie had said she’d been back to this house several times since Cookie had left. She found peace here. Sheila didn’t understand it—the place kind of freaked her out. Why would someone want to live with no furniture or no decorations at all?
The detective came up beside Sheila. She spotted him reflected in the window.
“Mind if I ask you some questions?” he asked.
“Probably not,” she said, turning to face him. “What now?”
“I know you’ve been through a lot the past week or so, but I’d like to ask you about Sharon Milhouse.”
She swallowed hard. “Why?”
“Her name keeps coming up as someone who might be a danger to you, and I need to verify a few things.”
This didn’t make sense. Sharon Milhouse! Why now?
“I’ve got a lot to think about. What does she have to do with anything? That all happened so long ago.”
He looked away from her and pulled out his notepad, flipped through it. “You said there was a Sharon Milhouse on the cruise,” he said.
Her heart jumped. “I know that.”
“I have no way of knowing if it was the same one. Er, at least not yet. There doesn’t seem to be any recent photos of her,” he said. “But there’s something else you should know.”
“What’s that?” she managed to say.
“A Milhouse has been checked in at the B and B since Tuesday.”