Isabella Moon (22 page)

Bitty Bit struggled at first, then began to lick Kate’s face and earlobe.

“What a beast you are,” Kate said. “Where’s your mommy?” She cuddled the dog for a minute, loving the warmth of its wriggling body. She’d almost forgotten that she was capable of enjoying such a simple pleasure.

“Scoot,” she said, giving the dog a playful push as she set it down on the polished marble floor.

Janet called down from upstairs, “Bitty, go to your bed.”

The dog looked in the direction of her voice, then trotted promptly off to the back of the house.

“Come upstairs,” Janet said.

Kate knew she was now addressing her, but the fact that Janet had used the exact same tone with the dog was not lost on her.

“You should have let me bring you some lunch,” Kate said as she made her way slowly up the steps, trying not to be distracted by the forbidding collection of oil portraits lining the stairwell. It still amazed her that Janet was building a house more fabulous than this one, which had been built by a banker at the turn of the twentieth century and was on the National Historic Register. Janet’s husband had spent a small fortune restoring the stately Victorian for his first wife, who died quite young. Janet had told Kate that the narrow, formal rooms and ancient furniture made the place feel more like a museum than a house. She needed space, she said, somewhere that she could breathe.

Janet had disappeared into the master bedroom at the top of the stairs. Kate could hear shouting from the television. She’d never known Janet to watch television in the daytime.

“I brought the chocolate you wanted,” Kate said, pushing the door open.

The room was a mess. The bedclothes lay in various piles on and around the four-poster, and several of Janet’s silk robes and yesterday’s clothes lay on the floor. Janet had climbed onto the middle of the bed and was pulling a pink down comforter around her shoulders. As she struggled with the comforter, she balanced between her knees a large crystal brandy snifter half full of a dark, thick liquid. Her movements were exaggerated and slow.

“About fucking time,” she said, glancing at Kate. “Open it.”

Kate had dealt with some of Janet’s stranger moods, but never with a Janet who was drunk when she was supposed to be working. Glancing around the room for some scissors or something sharp to open one of the bags of M&Ms, she came across a translucent blue dildo lying atop its leather case on a bedside table. Far from being shocked by its presence, she was disgusted only by the memory that it was very like one of Miles’s favorite sex toys, given that he occasionally had a difficult time keeping an erection.
Though he’d been hard enough the night she’d conceived. And although he’d denied that the child was his, she’d known in her heart that he was wrong.

Seeing nothing that might be useful, she made a tiny cut in the edge of the bag with her teeth and used her fingers to tear off the rest of the top. She waited for Janet to make a fuss, but Janet just held out her hand and told her to hurry up. She shook a handful into Janet’s hand.

Janet took a large swallow of whatever was in the snifter (from the smell of it, Kate figured Kahlua) and followed it with the candy.

“These stupid girls,” Janet said, her mouth full. She pointed to the television. “Not one of them knows who their babies’ daddies are. How dumb do you think you have to be to get on one of these shows?”

“Did you want me for something else?” Kate said. “Or just the chocolate?” A sudden weariness had come over her. She’d had enough weirdness in the last twenty-four hours to last her the rest of her life. It was bad enough that she had to deal with Janet when she was sober; she wasn’t prepared to handle a drunk-in-the-middle-of-the-day Janet.

“Why are women generally so stupid, Kate?” Janet said. “Men are the simplest creatures on earth. They think with their pricks and their pricks only. If you can remember that, you can have anything you want in this life.” She looked levelly at Kate. “But you should have better hair,” she said. “You should let me give you a makeover sometime.”

“
What
is wrong with you, Janet?” Kate said. “Did you even hear about what’s going on in town? Did you know they found that little girl?”

Janet started up from the bed, spilling a broken rainbow of candy across the sheets. “I hear about things in this town before people even fucking
think
them,” she said. “And I don’t
want
to hear any more about it from you, thank you.”

She hurried into the bathroom, dropping the comforter on the floor behind her. Kate could hear her peeing a long time, then flushing the toilet. Janet came back into the room without stopping to wash her hands.

“You know, what you could get me is a pizza,” Janet said, climbing back onto the bed. “I think I’m hungry now. I wasn’t earlier.”

“Fine,” Kate said. “Then I need to get back to the office if you want me to take your afternoon appointments.”

Janet nodded and proceeded to use the remote to scan television channels.

The sounds from the television followed Kate for a moment down the stairs, but faded by the time she reached the foyer. Bitty Bit clicked down the hallway and stood looking hopefully up at her.

“I’m guessing you haven’t been outside for a while, poor thing,” Kate said.

The dog followed behind her to the kitchen, where Kate let her out into the fenced yard with its bricked paths and formal flower and herb gardens. She had often written the check to the landscaping company herself for their maintenance services. Bitty Bit had only a small square at the back of the yard where she was allowed to do her business.

While the dog sniffed around the yard, Kate went to the phone to call for a pizza. Janet almost certainly expected her to go and get it herself, but in her present state, Janet wouldn’t remember it long.

Finding the county’s small phone book in a drawer where she knew it would be (everything in Janet’s house, like her office, was placed for maximum utility and accessibility), Kate dialed the number for the nearest pizza place. When they answered, only to put her on hold before she could order, she briefly considered that she should just drive over there, order the pizza, and bring it back. She idly pressed the backward button on Janet’s caller ID. The last call had been from the office. But early in the morning there had been a call from
Birkenshaw,
which she guessed was from the house where Paxton lived with his mother. She knew that they were acquainted and moved in the same social circles, but it didn’t interest her much. Knowing how Janet was with men—her philosophy appeared to be the same whether she was drunk or sober—it wouldn’t have surprised her if she kept Paxton around only for sex. He was rich, but she had plenty of money of her own.

She pressed the button a few more times, and the numbers of contractors, charities, the day spa, the dry cleaners went by. But just as the girl on the other end of the line began to babble, she saw another name she recognized: that of the small motel where Caleb was staying.

It struck her so that she forgot why the phone was in her hand. “Hello?” the girl said. “Hello?”

“Never mind,” Kate said. She hung up.

The call could have come from anyone else staying at that motel, but she told herself not to be stupid.

At the back door, Bitty Bit yipped to be let in. Not wanting to think, Kate opened the door and the dog came in to sniff at her shoes. She followed Kate through the house and up the stairs to Janet’s bedroom.

Janet still sat on the bed, a small amused smile on her parted lips. Kate didn’t have to look at the television to recognize the sounds. Janet had found a satellite porno channel.

“You ever do it with another woman?” Janet said, without looking at her.

Kate was taken off guard. She hadn’t known what she would say when she got upstairs. Now she was both disgusted and confused.

“What is Caleb calling you for?” she said. “Why?”

“It feels good,” Janet said. “Some women give better cunny than a man.” A woman on the television started a protracted moan that seemed to get louder and louder in the room. “Don’t worry, though,” she said, finally looking at Kate. “I’d never want to do it with you. I bet you’re fishy.”

“I asked you about Caleb,” Kate said.

“Caleb gives the best, don’t you think?” Janet said.

Kate stepped over to the bed and slapped Janet, hard, just to get the smile off her face. Then she turned and ran from the room and down the stairs, chased by a yapping Bitty Bit, who seemed to think it a fabulous game.

Even with her car windows closed, Kate could hear and feel the
thud thud thud
of the music coming from the car in front of her. The pounding made her angry, and she had a strong urge to accelerate into the car’s back end, pushing it into the intersection where they waited for the light to change.
How dare Caleb—
She couldn’t even articulate in her mind what Caleb had done with Janet.
How dare he!
Shaming her without a second thought. Pretending that he loved her.

In a moment she would have to move her car forward.
Where was she to go?

On the opposite corner was the sign pointing the way to Route 12, the road that led out to the interstate. And for a moment she knew that she could turn right and leave Carystown behind and start her life over again—and again and again if she needed to.

Then she saw Isabella.

The child walked between two women who were just starting across the street. Her black hair hung loose about her shoulders and her yellow coat gaped open so that Kate could see the bulky orange sweater she wore underneath. The women chatted as they walked, unaware of the unsmiling apparition between them. Isabella looked so alive to Kate, so real, that it seemed she could take one of the women’s hands or erupt into laughter at any moment. But she only stared back at Kate, her pale features set in an expression of concern, or possibly fear.

Behind Kate there came two angry blasts from a horn. Startled, she looked in her rearview mirror to see a woman in a minivan gesturing for her to go on. When she looked again for Isabella, she saw that the two women had already reached the corner, just outside Kate’s passenger door. Isabella was gone.

22

A FINE DRIZZLE
began to fall as Bill drove out to Chalybeate Springs. He radioed Mitch to make sure they got some sort of shelter over the crime scene. Noting how tired Bill looked when he was leaving the cemetery, Mitch had volunteered to go out and speak to Hanna Moon. But Bill wanted to do it himself. He’d waited a long time for this day, even though he wasn’t bringing the news that he’d always hoped to bring.

“Shelter’s up,” Mitch radioed back. “But we’re starting to draw a crowd.”

“Go ahead and shut down the access road,” Bill told him. “Keep everyone out but the guys who work up at the water facility.” Nothing was going to screw up this investigation if he could help it, especially given how unorthodox it had already become.

Knowing how quickly gossip spread in town—particularly among the early rising old-timers—he figured that word of his find at the cemetery had spread before he’d even been able to get Margaret home, shower, and get into his uniform. He’d called Daphne at home to tell her to get to the office well before 9:00
A.M.
, but her phone was picked up by a sleepy, vaguely familiar male voice. While he considered Daphne’s personal life none of his business, he felt sorry for the poor bastard, whoever he was. Daphne was not particularly kind to the few men she got involved with, and her relationships tended to be very short-lived.

She hadn’t sounded surprised at the news. “So that Russell chick was right? Go figure.”

“We’re not offering anyone details, Daphne,” he told her. “We’ll release a statement later today.”

But despite her barely subordinate attitude, she’d hustled right into the office and was now riding herd over the constantly ringing phones. He wasn’t at all sorry not to be hanging around there himself.

There weren’t many places left close to Carystown that were as undeveloped as the farm at Chalybeate Springs. Margaret liked to come out and buy honey and pick blueberries in season. One December she’d even dragged him there to buy one of their live Christmas trees and pine garlands. The farm sat in its own small valley whose sides eased gently into the hills. With its greenhouses and old outbuildings, the place was rustic in the extreme and enjoyed a reputation among the tourists and junior matrons in town as a quaint place to shop.

Bill parked in front of the house, near the farm’s odd collection of pickups and vans, and made his way up the steps to the sagging porch, which was furnished with an old sofa covered with quilts of various designs and several unmatched wicker chairs that had seen better days. Among the earthenware pots of still-small plants scattered about, there were garden tools, a beekeeper’s shroud, and a large box of new mason jars beneath several rolls of cellophane-wrapped duct tape. When he knocked on the metal frame of the screen door, a large-breasted woman moved in silhouette across the hallway, but she didn’t acknowledge him or come to the door. The smell of harsh, cheap coffee and a hint of marijuana smoke did come at him through the mesh.

A shirtless Charlie Matter appeared wearing some kind of ballooning silky pants that Bill could only think must have come from a clown’s costume.