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Sandra didn’t see the point in sniffing Gloria. She wasn’t strong enough to drag Peter anywhere, and she wouldn’t have left her own children alone. Or maybe she would dare to leave her children alone if she were the killer, because then there would be no one else to fear. She groaned. She hated second-guessing herself. Maybe they should go check on her. “Let’s go. They’re in the green room.” She led the way, and her meager troops followed.
She knocked on the door. “Gloria? Can you let us in?”
“Who is us?”
“Peter and me.” Not an entirely accurate roster, but it would do.
“Who screamed?”
Poor Gloria, she was probably scared to death. “It was Jan. She saw a mouse.”
After a moment of silence, Sandra heard a scraping sound as someone slid the furniture away from the door. The door opened and Corban stood there holding a hand up to shield his eyes from the light.
“Peter!” Corina cried and came running at him. She leapt at him and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”
Peter blushed and gently peeled her arms off him. “Uh ... thanks ... I’m fine.”
Corina turned to peer back into the dark room. “Mum, can I go to the bathroom now that the door’s open? Puh-lease? I really have to—”
“Only if Sandra goes with you.”
Corina looked up at her with doe eyes. “Please?”
She nodded and then shined her flashlight at Gloria. “Why are you guys sitting in the dark?”
“Our candles burned out,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ve got a little left, but I blew it out to save it for emergencies.”
“Okay. We’ll hurry back then. I hate to leave you in the dark at all, but we’ll go to the bathroom, and then I’ll see if I can find you more candles.”
Corina was already headed down the hall, so Sandra hurried to catch up, and did so just as Corina let the restroom door swing shut behind her. Sandra caught it, and then stupidly reached for the light switch. Even as she flicked the switch, she knew what she was doing was pointless—but it wasn’t. The lights came on.
“How did you do that?” Corina cried from inside the stall.
Sandra didn’t know. She opened the bathroom door and looked out into the hallway, which was as bright as daylight. The furnace roared to life. “The power’s back on!”
Corina squealed in excitement. Sandra let the door swing shut again and was staring into the mirror at the dark circles under her eyes when she smelled it again—the scent she would forever associate with theater, death, and Smokey the Bear. She looked down at the sink to see a half-used bar of Irish Spring soap. So it was even less a clue than she thought. Anyone who’d washed their hands might smell like the kidnapper. Case in point, Corina stepped out of the stall and up to the sink to dutifully scrub her hands.
Sandra tried to be patient as Corina did a thorough job degerming herself, and then led the way back to the green room. Nothing seemed as dangerous now that the lights were on. It was amazing what a few light bulbs could accomplish. She opened the door and waited for Corina to step inside before shutting it again.
“It’s not her,” Bob said, and it took a few seconds for Sandra to figure out what he meant. Oh, right. Gloria didn’t smell like a truck stop bathroom. Good for her.
“It’s freezing in here,” Sandra said.
Gloria shivered. “Hopefully not for long, and if the power company is out fixing lines, then that means that the sand trucks are probably out. I don’t see how the power trucks could get anywhere otherwise.”
“They are out,” Sandra said with an inappropriate amount of sureness. Of course, she knew they were out because Bob had seen them, but she shouldn’t have been able to know such a thing. “I mean, you’re right, they must be out by now.”
They were all quiet for a moment, as if each was busy listening for an approaching plow truck. Gloria broke the silence by asking, “Did you ever find the phone?”
“Did we ever!” Peter said before Sandra could shush him.
Gloria’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” Sandra tried. “It was Treasure’s phone, so it contained some ...” She coughed, unsure how to proceed.
“Smut?” Gloria guessed.
Heat crept into Sandra’s cheeks. She coughed again. “Sort of.”
“Pictures of herself?” Gloria asked.
I really don’t want to talk about this anymore. “Yes. And a friend.”
Gloria tipped her head back and laughed. “Let me see.”
Sandra wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“Not because I want to see compromising photos of her,” Gloria explained, “but I might know the man.”
“He’s not from here.”
“I know, but everyone in this county is related, and I know everyone, so—” She held out her hand expectantly.
Sandra froze. Bob had the phone. She felt it slide into her back pocket, and, trying to act naturally, reached back to pull it back out. She gingerly handed it over, nervous about what was going to happen next. “Why do you know everyone?” she asked slowly.
“I’m a pharmacist.” A practiced cell phone user, Gloria took only seconds to locate the offending photos. She gasped and looked up at Sandra. “That’s Reynold Goll!”
“Who?” Sandra and Bob asked in unison.
“Otis’s son.”
Sandra looked at Bob, eyes wide. “Where’s Otis?”
“I’ll go look.” And he was gone.