Consider the Crows (29 page)

The shovel toppled, crashing against the floor. Carena slid her fingers up the handle and swung with a sideways arc. The edge of the scoop caught Edie just above the ankle. She cried out, stumbled to her knees and crawled toward Carena.

Carena scooted back, digging with her heels and tried to raise the shovel. Edie wrenched it away. As though in slow motion, Carena saw the shovel swing back and come toward her.

22

E
DIE STOOD PANTING
, legs spraddled, clutching the snow shovel, and watched Dr. Egersund. It's okay. She's not moving. Start the car first. Then untie her.

Gently, Edie laid down the shovel, rubbed her face in the crook of one elbow and backed to the Volvo, unwilling to take her eyes off Dr. Egersund. She felt for the door handle. The hinges squeaked. A sharp cry escaped her. Her heart pounded. This is the last. It'll be all over. Why doesn't that stupid dog shut up!

What if it won't start? It will. It has to. Her hand shook. Steeling herself, she twisted the key in the ignition. The starter whined; slow, weak.

Please start. Please. Oh God, please start. The motor chugged once. Yes, come on. She pumped the accelerator. The motor coughed. All right. All right. She held her breath, fed more gas.

The motor caught. She took a breath. It sputtered. She mashed the accelerator. It died. No! Gripping the steering wheel, she threw back her head and wailed.

*   *   *

Teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, Edie backed her own car up Dr. Egersund's driveway. Hard to see through the snow. She eased backward as near as she dared to the closed garage door. From the trunk, she pulled out Belinda's sled. She'd bought it for Belinda's Christmas. At Christmas time Belinda was— Belinda wasn't even there. Edie shoved the sled onto the rear seat, grabbed the old blanket and a roll of cord and went into the garage by the small side door.

Dr. Egersund was still there. She hadn't moved. Edie struggled to open the overhead door. I have to hurry. Dr. Egersund moaned. Edie gasped and whirled to stare at her. Dr. Egersund moved her head, sliding her cheek against the garage floor.

Hurry. Oh God, hurry. Finally, the latches clicked free and Edie shoved up the door. It rose a short distance and stopped. She shoved harder. The door banged against the bumper of her Ford. Oh no. Too close, I parked too close. What am I going to do? The light. I forgot the light.

Rushing to the switch, she flicked it off and stood a moment in the dark, breathing heavily. It's all right. She spread out the blanket and rolled and tugged Dr. Egersund onto it. It kept scrunching up.

Quickly, she covered Dr. Egersund's face, those half-open eyelids. She shivered, then tucked the blanket tight and wrapped cord around it, being very careful with the knots and telling herself how neat they were.

Opening the small door on the side of the garage, she peered out. What if somebody sees? No. It's dark. Kitchen light. Nobody's watching. She opened the door wide and went for the burden. The wind blew the door shut. She crouched and sobbed.

I have to do this. I can. I can. She blocked the door open with the handle of the snow shovel, grasped the burden and backed to the door. She toed it open and dragged the burden out. Kicking the shovel away, she let the door slam shut and pulled the burden around to the trunk of her car. With desperate effort, she heaved the top half in, hurriedly rolled in the legs and slammed the trunk lid. It shut with a solid thunk. Sagging against the Ford, she stared around wildly. It's okay. Nobody heard.

She jumped in the car and backed carefully out the driveway.

*   *   *

Parkhurst switched on headlights and windshield wipers, backed out of the parking space and turned to look at her. “Where we going?”

Susan clicked in her seatbelt. “Edie Vogel.”

He headed left out of the lot. “Want to tell me why?”

“We want to ask her a few questions.” Susan paused, trying to collect her thoughts. “Audrey Kalazar didn't tolerate mistakes. Edie made a big one. Airline reservations for the wrong day. What do you think Audrey would do when she found out?”

“Boot Edie's ass right out of a job.”

“And Edie, right now, has some heavy expenses. Last time I saw her she had a Band-Aid on her finger. Maybe a splinter from rotted wood. She has a cold.”

“So does half of everybody you run into. It's winter.”

“And. Her attitude when I went to question her right after Lynnelle's murder. Edie was scared. She was resigned.” Susan thought back to Edie's slack sad face. “She thought I'd come to arrest her.”

Parkhurst pulled up at Edie's house. “Aren't we skating on some pretty thin circumstancial ice here?”

“Yes. But, I believe, if I'd asked the right questions the first time, she would have confessed. We'll ask them now.”

“Not home,” Parkhurst said, giving the doorbell another push.

“Damn it,” Susan muttered. Edie's car was gone and the house in darkness; obviously, she wasn't home. Ringing the doorbell had been just a futile gesture of irritation.

“What now?” Parkhurst asked.

“Back to the department. We'll have her picked up.”

In the Bronco, the radio chattered. “I have received yet another complaint about a barking dog,” Marilee drawled. “Officer White, are you out there? Sixteen twenty-one Franklin Street. The neighbor is getting a mite testy.”

Carena Egersund lived at sixteen twenty-one Franklin. Susan looked at Parkhurst, then picked up the mike. “Chief Wren,” she said to Marilee. “I'll catch this one. We're on the way.”

“Why are we doing this?” Parkhurst asked.

She waved a hand at the radio. “Everybody's busy.” Pushing herself further into the seatback, she crossed her arms. She didn't know why they were doing this, except she was getting a bad feeling. A barking dog meant nothing. Dogs bark.

No lights were on in the front part of the house. The dog stopped barking when they came up on the porch and made little yips of welcome. The knock went unanswered.

“Try the back,” Susan said.

The dog started barking again as they moved off the porch.

“Ben?” A middle-aged woman with a heavy coat thrown around her shoulders hurried up to them.

“Mrs. Farniss,” Parkhurst said with a nod. “This is Chief Wren. You the one made the complaint about the barking dog?”

“It wasn't a complaint exactly. With the windows all shut up like they are, it wasn't that it bothered me. It's just she's had the dog ever since that poor girl got killed and it's never barked like this. I got to worrying. You know, with a killer loose and all. She's a good neighbor. I just thought I'd better call.”

“Has anything unusual happened here?” Susan asked.

“I'm not sure.” Mrs. Farniss looked slightly embarrassed. “Earlier, I thought there was somebody waiting, you know, kind of hanging around there by her back porch.”

“What did this person look like?”

“I didn't really see. Getting dark and the snow and all. Then I thought maybe I was wrong.” Mrs. Farniss clutched the coat tighter around her shoulders. “After a while I noticed the car.”

“What car?”

“I just saw it driving away.”

“It wasn't Dr. Egersund's car?”

“I'm not sure. I don't think so. But she wouldn't just go off without taking care of the dog. I know she wouldn't. I tried to phone and didn't get an answer.”

“What kind of car?”

“I can't say I know anything about cars. And I couldn't see enough to tell anyway. Older, dark color.”

“Was there one person inside,” Susan asked. “Or two?”

“I don't know. It's snowing so hard and dark.”

“What time was this?”

“It must have been just about six o'clock. I was about to get supper on the table.”

“How long has the dog been barking?”

“Close to two hours. I tried to tell myself that nothing's wrong, but—” Mrs. Farniss shivered.

“You did the right thing in calling.” Parkhurst put a hand under her elbow and gave her a gentle nudge toward her house.

“I hope she's all right.”

“We'll check it out.”

With the flashlight, Parkhurst tried to pick out tire tracks on the driveway; if there'd been any, they were obliterated by falling snow.

At the rear of the house, kitchen light spilled through the window. From the screened back porch, they heard the dog snuffling along the inside of the door. Susan tried the knob and found it locked. “I don't like this.”

Parkhurst shrugged. “The lady's gone out. A friend picked her up.”

“A friend who was lurking around earlier?”

“We've had a lot of calls lately reporting lurkers.”

“Yeah.” She shoved her hands deep in her pockets. “Let's check the garage.”

Disappointed barking from the dog as they left the porch and headed for the garage. The overhead door was down. Parkhurst jiggled the handle, locked. The small door on the side was also locked. Brushing snow from the glass pane, he shined the light through. She bent closer to see.

“Car's here.” He played the flashlight beam over the Volvo.

Didn't mean anything. She
could
have been picked up by a friend. Susan straightened, hunched her shoulders uneasily and tucked her chin in her collar.

“Well?” Parkhurst said.

She took the flashlight and, with her face against the glass, angled it down and to the right. Something lay on the floor that she couldn't see clearly.

Stepping aside, she handed back the flash. “Just inside, to the right. What is it?”

He crouched, peered through the glass, moved the light back and forth. “Wooden handle, looks like. Maybe a shovel or a rake.”

She hesitated, took in a breath of cold air that hurt her lungs. “Open it.”

He tipped his head and eyed her questioningly. She nodded. Raising a booted foot, he smashed it against the lock and the door popped open. Inside, he located the light switch and the sudden glare made her squint. It was a shovel, a snow shovel.

Melted snow had dripped puddles around the car; empty, keys in the ignition. She reached for them and bounced them on her gloved hand as she looked around the garage.

“Susan.” Crouched on his heels, Parkhurst added the flashlight beam to the overhead light, pointing out a small dark smear.

She squatted beside him. “Blood?”

“Maybe. Not enough to get excited about.”

“Maybe,” she repeated, examined the keys and isolated one that looked like a house key.

Alexa yipped joyous cries of welcome when Susan opened the kitchen door and leaped around them in wild circles. Parkhurst knelt, whacked the dog's sides and fondled her head with both hands. Alexa slathered his face with adoring kisses.

“Dr. Egersund?” Susan called.

Rising, Parkhurst pulled off his gloves and used them to slap at the white hairs all over his black pants.

The light was on, bags of groceries—with things like milk and chicken and frozen orange juice that should be refrigerated—sat on the table. A black leather handbag hung by the shoulder strap from a chair. She looked at Parkhurst.

They went quickly through the house with the dog trotting at their heels. No signs of struggle, or break-in, nothing amiss but little puddles of tracked-in snow. Bloody hell, what happened? She opened the kitchen door.

“Watch it!”

Alexa shot out, knocking her aside, nosed open the screen and disappeared in the falling snow.

“Shit!” She dashed out. “Alexa, come back here!” At the end of the driveway, she looked one way, then another, took a couple of steps, then stopped. The damn dog was gone and she didn't even know which direction.

“Hey.” Parkhurst put a hand on her arm. “How hard could it be to find a white dog in a snowstorm?”

She gave him a withering look, which he couldn't see in the dark, and tromped back to the Bronco. While he scooped snow from the windshield with a gloved hand, she got on the radio; pickup on Edie, lookout for Carena Egersund and the damn dog. “Anybody sees it, bring it in.”

“Right away. Ten-four.”

“We might as well head in,” Susan said to Parkhurst.

They'd only gone a few blocks when the radio sputtered. She grabbed the mike.

“I spread the word,” Marilee drawled. “Officer Yancy reported in he spotted Edie's car. Thirty minutes ago. Headed north out of town.”

North? Susan looked at Parkhurst, pressed the transmit button. “We're headed north too. Get a patrol unit to the Creighton place.”

*   *   *

The Bronco picked up speed once they left town. Snowflakes sparkled silver against the headlights. The silence was broken only by the hum of the heater, the double beat of the wipers and the whisper of tires cutting through snow.

Susan tried to tell herself that Egersund had simply forgotten her purse, had gone somewhere with a friend. Uh-huh, sure. She might forget her purse, but she wouldn't leave frozen peas on the table.

“No reason for Edie to axe Egersund,” Parkhurst said, picking up on her thoughts.

Right. “No known reason.” And no reason to think she was at the Creighton place, simply because she was headed that direction.

He slowed to make a left and they jounced along the driveway.

“No car,” she said when they pulled around to the rear of the house.

No tire tracks either, but tracks wouldn't last long with the snow. When she slid from the Bronco, cold air made her catch her breath. Edie got stuck in a snow drift. Stopped for coffee along the way. Long gone into the next state. “Any bright ideas?”

He grunted, fanned the flashlight beam over the rope swing, across the unmarked snow on the ground and aimed it in the direction of the woods, invisible behind the swirl of snowflakes. From the set of his shoulders, she could tell he was as keyed-up as she was. He tromped a few paces, stood motionless, then tightened to attention like a sentry hearing a twig snap. Even his movements were tighter, direct and focused as he took two more steps. Turning, he motioned with the flash.