In the Event of My Death (28 page)

Kurt walked through the downstairs, his gun drawn. Everywhere were signs of human habitation, but he couldn’t tell if someone had been here days ago or weeks ago. More beer and soda cans sat on the kitchen counter, and even a pizza box and wrappers from fast food restaurants, all gnawed on by mice. The sink was rust-stained and filthy.

He checked all the downstairs bedrooms and found similar signs of filth and decay. Here and there lay a dead bird that had flown in through a broken window and gotten trapped. He also saw a few rotting rat carcasses and wondered if they’d been poisoned.

Something creaked overhead and he jerked to attention. Quickly he backtracked down the hall until he reached the stairs. He clicked off the safety of his gun and started up the steps slowly. The dust was badly scuffed on them. Someone had gone up and down them frequently and not long ago. Pieces of paper littered the stairs, mostly crumpled newspaper pages. Near the top of the stairs he stopped. Here a newspaper lay spread out. The stairs were so close to the front door Kurt knew he would have noticed the newspaper if it had been in this position when he came in the house.

He bent down and read the headline: Local Girl Found Hanged. He read the first couple of lines describing the discovery of the partially burned body of Faith Howard, seventeen, hanging in the Pritchard barn.

The paper was thirteen years old and in perfect condition, Kurt thought, his breath quickening. This newspaper had been treasured, saved to remind someone in particular of what had happened to Faith.

A whisper of movement from above sent a prickling along his neck, a sudden chill, a certainty that he was not alone. He stood up in time to glimpse a figure in a white robe with flowing red hair holding a tire iron. In a rush of motion, before Kurt could even raise his gun, the tire iron crashed against his skull.

Kurt tumbled noisily to the foot of the stairs and lay motionless. The figure wafted down the steps, leaning down to stare at his quiet face with the streak of blood oozing down his temple. A finger dabbed at the blood and drew on the floor, forming a bloody heart and a six. Then, slowly, the figure raised the tire iron again.

At four-thirty they had completed and delivered all their orders, Norma and Mary were still not speaking, and Laurel was exhausted so she declared the store officially closed for Christmas half an hour early. On her way home she stopped for groceries because Audra would be spending the night. She couldn’t expect the child to eat the way she had this past week.

Snow fell steadily as she loaded her grocery bags in the car and started for home. The roads were slightly slick and Laurel drove slowly, wishing darkness didn’t fall so early in winter. The long lane to her house, which she usually thought beautiful with all the tree limbs coated with snow, now looked lonely, even scary. After the murders, she wondered if she would ever find winter nights beautiful again.

Laurel pulled into the garage and shut the door behind her. These days, like Crystal, she left the garage light on so she wouldn’t have to step from the car into darkness. The dogs were waiting on the other side of the door for her.

“Guess what, guys?” she said as they bounded after her into the kitchen. “We’re having company tonight. One of your favorite people—Audra.”

They sat looking at her expectantly, at this moment more interested in their dinner than a prospective guest whose name they didn’t yet recognize. “I know. Alpo time. You both look famished.”

Laurel had just finished feeding the dogs when someone knocked on the front door. Wayne stood on the other side holding Audra, who was dressed as if she were going on an expedition to the North Pole. Wayne was clearly being overprotective, but Laurel understood. “Hi!” she said cheerily. Both managed weak smiles. “Come in.”

“I hope we’re not early,” Wayne said.

“You’re right on time. How are you feeling, Audra?”

“Okay. And thank you very much for letting me stay the night.”

She’d been coached, sounding like a formal little adult. “It’s my pleasure, Audra. The dogs are just finishing their dinner in the kitchen if you’d like to go see them. Right in there.”

Audra’s smile brightened as Wayne set her down and she headed in the direction Laurel was pointing. Laurel turned back to Wayne. “How are
you
?”

“Not too well. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this evening.” He set down a small suitcase. “I finally tracked down Denise’s parents, but they can’t get here until tomorrow. They’re furious with me, as if it’s my fault Denise’s mother screwed up the itinerary.”

“That’s their primary reaction? Anger at you?”

“I don’t think the situation has really sunk in with them. It’s easier to get mad at me than accept that their daughter has been murdered.”

“Will they be back in time for the funeral?”

“I think so.”

“Wayne, this is probably none of my business, but do you think Audra should attend the funeral?”

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. Even if it weren’t her mother being buried tomorrow, she’s just not well enough. I’ll find someone to stay home with her.”

“Why don’t you let her stay with me? People will be coming back to the house after the funeral. You don’t want her around all that commotion, all that talk about the murder.”

“No, I don’t. But don’t you want to go to the funeral?”

“Well…I…”

“Of course you don’t. Who
wants
to go to a funeral? People do it out of respect for the family—either that or curiosity. Your offering to look after Audra shows more affection and respect for Denise than going to the funeral. Yes, I would really appreciate your looking after Audra if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“I would enjoy it.”

He gave her that weak smile again, bent and opened the suitcase. “Audra’s medicine is in here. There’s just an antibiotic, cough syrup, and some Tylenol. She’s been having headaches. I’ve written down the dosages. If you have any questions, call me.”

Audra came back into the living room, both dogs scampering after her. “Daddy has to leave now,” Wayne said, sweeping her into his arms. “You be a good girl.”

“I will, Daddy. And will you give Mommy my special flowers?”

Yesterday Wayne had called the store and asked if Laurel could put together a wicker basket of spring flowers as Audra’s offering. Mary had designed it with daisies, violets, pansies, and moss roses interspersed with babies’ breath and tied with a pink ribbon. Laurel thought it was one of the loveliest arrangements Mary had ever done.

“Certainly I’ll give her your flowers, sweetheart,” Wayne said.

“And they’re very pretty,” Laurel told her. She found her purse and withdrew a Polaroid. “We took a picture.”

Audra looked at the photograph. “Oh, they’re beautiful! All the flowers Mommy had in her garden.”

Wayne nodded and Laurel could tell he was unable to speak. “We’d better let your daddy be on his way,” she said quickly. “He should drive slowly on slick roads, and you and I need to decide what to have for dinner.”

Wayne gave his daughter a final, hard kiss and hurried out the door as if he didn’t trust himself to say anything. Audra looked at Laurel. “I don’t really know what a visitation is.”

“It’s when people go to the funeral home to say goodbye to the person who died.”

“Oh.” Audra’s big brown eyes clouded. “I didn’t get to say good-bye to Mommy.”

Laurel sat down on the couch and patted the spot beside her. Audra joined her. “Don’t worry about it, honey. You don’t really have to say good-bye. Your mommy will always be alive in your heart, and you can talk to her any time in your prayers.”

A bit of gloom left Audra’s face. “
Any
time?”

“Absolutely.”

“That’s good ’cause I’m gonna have lots to tell her.” She paused. “Laurel?”

“Yes?”

“I’m starving.”

Laurel laughed. She didn’t underestimate Audra’s pain or devastation over losing her mother, but children had such a charming way of throwing off their troubles, even for a little while. “I’m really hungry, too. Any requests?”

“Pizza!” Laurel had imagined fixing healthy things for the child in her charge. “Hospital food is yucky and Daddy said when I got out I could have a nice big gooey pizza.”

“Okay. You tell me what toppings you want and I’ll call the pizza shop.”

Forty-five minutes later, as Audra downed her sixth piece of pizza loaded with enough toppings to clog Laurel’s arteries for the next year, Audra said, “My boyfriend, Buzzy Harris, called me up today and said another lady got murdered just like my mommy.”

“Well, isn’t Buzzy a fountain of information?”

“Huh?”

“Maybe Buzzy shouldn’t be telling you things to upset you.”

“He didn’t want to upset me. He thinks we should find the killer as soon as I get well.”

That’s what Monica had wanted to do, Laurel thought. Denise had scoffed at the idea of amateur detectives, but she wouldn’t consent to go to the police. And now she was dead.

“I think tracking down killers should be left to the police,” she told Audra. “They’re the experts.”

“They didn’t find who killed my mommy.”

“They will.”

Audra looked soulfully at her plate for a moment and Laurel braced for another comment about Denise’s murder. Instead Audra asked, “Can April and Alex have some pizza?”

The dogs had been sitting stolidly on either side of Audra, avidly watching each bite that went into her mouth. “They can each have a couple of bites of crust. The toppings might upset their stomachs. And just drop the crust into Alex’s mouth. He likes fingers.”

Audra giggled and carefully tore off four pieces of crust, explaining to the dogs why that’s all they could have. Afterward she sat back, puffed out her cheeks, and said, “I think I’m gonna pop.”

“Me, too. How would you like to have a big fire in the fireplace and watch TV?”

“Neat! There’s a
Peanuts
special tonight.”

“Good. I love
Peanuts
. Why don’t you take April and Alex in the living room? I’ll clean up in here and be in there in about four minutes.”

Cleaning up after pizza was easy. Shortly afterward she found Audra curled up on the couch with April and Alex. Laurel had never seen the dogs bond with anyone like they did with Audra. She was telling them a story about a beautiful princess named April and a handsome prince named Alex. Both dogs looked at her as if they were following every word.

Laurel built a fire. “We never had fires at my house,” Audra told her.

“Well, they can be messy. You have a fancy house. I don’t. A little smoke doesn’t bother me.”

The four of them cuddled under the afghan and watched the
Peanuts
special. By the time it was over, Audra was yawning ferociously. “I think it’s bedtime for you, little one,” Laurel said. She gave Audra her antibiotic and took her into her old room. “There is where I slept when I was growing up.”

“It’s pretty. I like all your stuffed animals.”

“Would you like to sleep with one?”

“Yeah!” Audra went straight for raggedy old Boo Boo Bear. “I like this one.”

“That’s Boo Boo and he was my favorite, too.”

“Are there any
real
bears this color, sort of orange-red?”

“I don’t think so. Whoever made him got creative with the dye for his fur. Now, let’s get your pajamas on and then into bed with you.”

Ten minutes later she pulled the covers up to Audra’s chin. “Comfy?”

“Yes. But can I have a night-light?”

Laurel walked over and flipped on a night-light with a seashell cover. “Okay?”

“Great.”

Laurel kissed her. “If you want anything, just call out. I’ll be right down the hall.”

“Okay. Sometimes I have bad dreams.”

Tell me about it, Laurel thought. “If you do, wake me up. Good night, sweetheart.”

She wanted to make a couple of calls, so she closed Audra’s door. The child didn’t object since she was guarded not only by Boo Boo, but April and Alex. When she went in the living room, she looked at the time. Nine-thirty. Monica should be back from the visitation by now and Laurel wanted to get a clearer perspective on Crystal’s situation than she knew Crystal could give her.

No one answered in Monica’s room. Maybe she’d gone home with Crystal, but she didn’t want to call there. She was concerned about Crystal, but she didn’t want to deal with Crystal’s high-strung reactions tonight. She tried Kurt’s number but got only the answering machine. She was too embarrassed to say she was calling to get information she knew she had no right to have and hung up quickly.

The fire had died and she suddenly felt cold. She tiptoed in to check on Audra. The child slept deeply, clutching Boo Boo Bear, with April and Alex planted on the bed on either side of her. Alex was snoring, but April looked at her. “Little guardian angels,” Laurel whispered. “Take care of her tonight.”

Before Laurel climbed into bed, she stood gazing out the bedroom window at the snow still falling heavily. The yard looked so cold and lonely with only the dusk-to-dawn light, considerably weakened by the white veil. It seemed impossible that summer would ever come, that the lawn would be alive with green grass and multicolored flowers and daylight would last until nine o’clock.

Laurel got in bed, and pulled the comforter close. She didn’t know why she felt so chilled tonight. She used the remote control to turn on the television. She watched old situation comedies for a while, then dozed off, the television still going.

Soon she was in the bam again. Sick. Cold. Leaping shadows. Chanting. “Hail the Lords of darkness.” The shoes going round and round. Fire. Faith hanging. Screams. Screams.

Laurel jerked awake. She
had
heard a scream. She threw off the comforter and was jumping out of bed when she heard a door opening, then footsteps running down the hall. Audra appeared in her doorway and streaked to the bed, April and Alex pounding along behind her. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Laurel cried, opening her arms for the child.

“My mommy’s dead!” Audra sobbed, clutching Boo Boo and burying her face against Laurel’s shoulder. “It was snowing and I was running and there were lights everywhere and I saw somebody following Mommy—” She heaved a deep breath, then hiccuped.

“Audra, it was just a dream,” Laurel said, holding her tightly. April and Alex panted anxiously, sensitive to Audra’s distress.

“I know it was a dream but somebody hit Mommy
real
hard over and over. I
saw
her with blood all over her and in the snow and—”

“Audra, remember how I told you your mother is in a beautiful place?” Laurel asked quickly. “It’s tme. You forget about that night in the snow.”

“I
can’t
.”

“Yes, you can if you try. Don’t let that be your last memory of your mother. Concentrate on the happiest times you had together.”

Audra shuddered and looked off in the distance. “Like when we went to Disney World last summer and Mommy screamed and laughed on the rides?”

“Yes. That’s good,” Laurel said in relief. “Audra, why don’t you sleep with me? It’s such a big bed and I’m lonely.”

“You are? Okay,” Audra sniffled. She scooted under the covers and April and Alex promptly jumped up. Good thing this is a king-sized bed, Laurel thought as the dogs stretched out. Audra, on the other hand, squeezed as close to Laurel as she could. Laurel was around children so seldom she’d forgotten how small and fragile they felt. How desperately Denise must have wanted to protect this vulnerable little girl. Laurel hugged her.

“You hug just like Mommy,” Audra said.

“That’s good. I know your mommy gave good hugs.”

“Were you and my mommy friends when you were my age?”

“Yes, we were. We met when we were in the same third-grade class.”

“So
long
ago,” Audra marveled, making Laurel feel ancient. Suddenly she asked, “When you get to be a grown-up like you, do you stop having bad dreams?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“What do you have bad dreams about?”

Oh, Lord, if you only knew, Laurel thought. “Dogs.”

“I love dogs, but Mommy never let me have one.” She sighed. “Will you tell me a story?”

Laurel began a rambling tale about a little girl who lived in the forest and could talk to all the animals. She had no idea where she was going with it, but she knew it didn’t matter. Audra was yawning and her eyes were half-closed. In a minute they closed completely. Laurel continued in a soft voice until seconds later when Audra’s long lashes fluttered. “Boo Boo rattles and he has a tear in his side. I didn’t tear him, honest.” Then her eyes closed firmly as she lapsed back into what Laurel hoped was a peaceful, dreamless sleep.