Shadow of Doubt (19 page)

I could imagine.

“By the time I was doing my teacher training, James—my stepfather—had died. But my mom was sick and everything was so hard. I was miserable. Nat decided I needed cheering up—she dragged me to a party. And that's where I met Mikhail. I was so nervous. He seemed so nice, but I kept remembering my mother telling me how nice James had been when she first met him, and how much he changed as time went on.” She looked at me and shook her head. “That must sound kind of paranoid to you.”

“No, it doesn't,” I said.

“But Nat knew him, so I thought it would be okay. And he really did seem nice. And gentle.”

“Did you tell him about what had happened to your mother?”

“No. Mostly I avoided talking about it.” She put the last couple of dishes into the dishwasher and closed the door. “I can see now that my mom was right. It's so easy to be taken in by men like James and Mikhail. Even I didn't pick up on the warning signals.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother warned me about guys who act like you belong to them and them alone before you really know them. Mikhail was like that. He got serious so fast. When he found out how I felt about smoking, he quit—that was on our second date.”

“When I saw him outside school, he had a cigarette in his hand.”

Her smile was sour.

“He couldn't let go of them, either,” she said. “He always fiddled with them. Sometimes he even put one in his mouth. But he never lit them—not around me, anyway. He kept telling me he'd do anything for me. It scared me. Then he proposed. I'd only known him for a few months.”

“That's pretty fast,” I agreed. But Ben had made up his mind about me pretty quickly, and I was one hundred percent positive that he wasn't a stalker.

“When Nat found out I was seeing him, she tried to warn me,” Ms. Denholm said. “She said she'd heard things.” She sighed. “She keeps saying she should never have insisted that I go to that party.”

After we finished in the kitchen, we all played cards and laughed some more. It felt good to see everyone so happy—and to see Ted so obviously delighted to be with his daughter. It wasn't until later, when I was lying in my bed at home, that I thought about Ted's phone number. Like Ms. Denholm's, it wasn't listed in the phone book. Yet Mornov had managed to get both numbers. He'd called Ms. Denholm at her apartment and at Ted's condo. Ms. Rachlis had been right to warn Ms. Denholm about him—he was very clever and, from the sound of it, very sinister.

“I

'd offer to go with you,” Morgan said. “I know the best places for baby clothes.”

“Since when?” I said. “Who do you even know who has a baby?”

“Billy's sister is pregnant. I've been looking around, for when the time comes.”

“Leanne is
pregnant
?”

“She just found out,” Morgan said. “She hasn't told anyone yet except for family.”

“Now you're
family
?”

“Well, I
am
Billy's girlfriend,” she said. “I wanted to tell you, Robyn, but Leanne wants to be sure first. You know.”

I wanted to be understanding, but I couldn't help feeling left out. Billy and Morgan had been my best friends since forever. We told each other everything. It felt strange that the two of them knew something but had kept it from me.

“I'd go with you, Robyn. But Billy and I are leaving right after school.”

More news.

“Leaving for where?”

“Billy promised ages ago that he'd attend this big conference on birds. He's supposed to make a presentation about DARC.”

“And
you're
going with him?”

She blushed. Tough-as-nails Morgan actually blushed. “The conference starts tonight and runs right until Sunday afternoon,” she said. “It's Valentine's Day on Sunday. It wouldn't feel right if we weren't together.”

“Talking about dead birds,” I said. “Sounds like the perfect Valentine's Day to me.”

“I really love him, Robyn.”

“Uh-huh. I don't suppose Keisha Minotte is going to be at this conference, is she?”

Morgan's expression hardened. “So what if she is? I'm going because I want to be with Billy. Is that a crime?”

“I'm sure you'll have a great time,” I said. “You and all those bird people. Ben and I are getting together on Sunday too. I'd like to find something for his baby sister before then.”

Morgan grinned at me.

“You're doing the right thing,” she said. “He's a great guy.”

. . .

On my way to my locker after school, I ran into Ms. Denholm. She was coming out of the art room carrying what looked like a heavy box.

“Do you need some help with that?” I said.

She shook her head.

“I think I can manage. I'm just taking this down to the car. I'm helping Nat clean out the art room. Tomorrow we're packing up her apartment. She's leaving as soon as we're done. But I bet she could use some help.” She ducked her head into the room. “Couldn't you, Nat?” she called cheerily.

Ms. Rachlis didn't answer.

“She's having a tough time,” Ms. Denholm said in a quiet voice. “If you wanted to pitch in, I know she'd appreciate it.” When I nodded, she said, “Go on. I'll be right back.”

Ms. Rachlis was emptying her desk, packing some items into a cardboard box and tossing others into the trash. She was pale and looked thinner than the last time I'd seen her.

“What can I do?” I said.

She looked blankly at me for a moment. “Those brushes,” she said. “They need to be cleaned. I want to leave everything tidy for the next teacher.”

I set to work. Ms. Denholm joined me when she returned. When we had cleaned all the brushes, she turned to Ms. Rachlis.

“Almost ready?” she said.

Ms. Rachlis nodded.

“I'm taking these two boxes,” she said. “This one is garbage.”

Ms. Denholm and Ms. Rachlis each picked up one of the boxes Ms. Rachlis wanted to keep. The third box was filled with paper. I volunteered to empty it into one of the recycling bins at the end of the hall.

“If you need help tomorrow, I'm free,” I said. Billy and Morgan were going to be out of town, and Ben was tied up with family business. “I have a few errands to do, but I can come over after that.”

“That would be great, Robyn. Thanks,” Ms. Denholm said as she headed for the stairs. “We'll see you then.”

I carried my box to the recycling bin and tipped out all of the scrap paper—old newspapers torn into strips for papier-mâché, stacks of magazines with pictures cut out, pages covered with sketches and designs. I pulled out a couple of sheets covered with sketches of flower arrangements. Some of the flowers were gathered together with ribbon, some in vases, some held in the arms of cuddly animals. The drawings were terrific. I wondered if a student had done them or if they were Ms. Rachlis's work. Ms. Denholm had said she was talented. If these were her sketches, Ms. Denholm was right.

“W

ell, good morning,” my mother said when I walked into the kitchen. She looked radiant in the morning sun that was streaming through the window.

“Morning,” I said. “Morning, Ted.” He was sitting at the table beside her, holding one of her hands. Neither of them made any attempt to conceal it.

“Ted and I were thinking of taking a drive up north,” my mother said. “We thought we'd do some cross-country skiing. Do you want to come?”

“I have plans,” I said. Plans that did not involve watching my mom and Ted get all mushy with each other.

“We should be back by dinner,” my mother said.

“Unless we stop off at that little restaurant I was telling you about,” Ted said. “The one with all the fireplaces.” He squeezed her hand. My mom giggled.

“We'll be back when we're back,” she said. “What are you going to do all day?”

“I'm going to go shopping this morning,” I said. “Then...”

But my mom wasn't listening. She was looking at Ted again, and she had a big, goofy grin on her face. I didn't bother to finish my sentence. I wondered if there had been any change in Mikhail Mornov's condition but decided that if there had been, someone would have told me.

. . .

I went to the store that Morgan had recommended, picked out a pink-and-yellow outfit for Ben's baby sister, and had it gift-wrapped in teddy-bear wrapping paper with a big pink bow. Next to the baby store was a shop that sold hand-dipped chocolates. I bought a heart-shaped box for Ben.

Ben. Not Nick.

It felt right. Ben was here. He was doing everything right. I thought about the words of an old song my dad liked, something about loving the one you're with. Well, why not?

I wrote out a card, slipped it into a little envelope, and attached it to the ribbon on the box. With both my purchases in a bag, I hopped the bus and rode it to Ms. Denholm's place.

. . .

Ms. Denholm—
Melissa
, as I kept reminding myself—and Ms. Rachlis were getting out of Melissa's car when I arrived at their house. Melissa smiled and waved me over.

“You're just in time,” she said. “We've got a lot of boxes to fill.”

Ms. Rachlis nodded at me. She still looked pale, and her hair hung in greasy strings. I felt sorry for her.

“Nat is leaving first thing in the morning. We're packing her things so that I can ship them back home for her.” She glanced at the bag I was carrying. “You can leave your things in my apartment if you want, Robyn.” She circled around to the trunk of the car. It was filled with what looked like a dozen or more cardboard boxes nested inside each other. She and Ms. Rachlis must have scrounged them from a supermarket. Melissa took half of them and gave me the other half.

“Nat's going to supervise,” she said in a cheery voice. “You and I will be her helpers.”

We went upstairs. I dropped my purse and the gifts for Ben and his sister in Melissa's apartment but kept my phone on me in case Ben called. I closed Melissa's door and crossed the hall to Ms. Rachlis's apartment. If anything, it was even messier than it had been the time I'd gone to borrow eggs. There were boxes everywhere, some of them sealed and neatly labeled with their contents, others heaped high with Ms. Rachlis's possessions, and others that looked as though Ms. Rachlis had just scooped up armfuls of shoes and books and painting supplies and dropped them inside.

“We've got the kitchen under control,” Melissa said. “Nat, why don't you pack the bedroom? Robyn, you can tackle the bookshelves in the living room. I'll take care of the knickknacks. Don't worry, Nat. I'll wrap everything in newspaper so that nothing gets broken.”

Ms. Rachlis disappeared into the bedroom. I followed Melissa into the living room.

“I'm glad she's getting away from here,” she said to me in a soft voice. “She's taking an extended vacation. She told me she might even look into a teaching position overseas for a while. She needs to be able to forget about what happened.”

I couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her to have been face-to-face with Mornov and have her life threatened. Once again I found myself wondering what would have happened if Melissa hadn't decided to go home—or if she hadn't taken that gun with her.

“If you hadn't shown up when you did...” I began, but I stopped when Ms. Rachlis appeared in the doorway. She looked at me, but all she said was, “I need another box.” She picked up an empty one and slipped back into the bedroom with it.

Melissa and I set to work. I packed books while Melissa wrapped vases, figurines, and framed photographs, carefully packing them between layers of crumpled newspaper. As I set the last of the books into a box, Melissa tossed me a roll of silver tape.

“You can use this to seal the box,” she said.

“Duct tape?” I said.

Melissa laughed. “Nat calls it her secret weapon. It's strong. And you can use it for all kinds of repairs. One time we were going out and the hem of my dress came down in the back. Nat taped it up with a few pieces of duct tape. It held for the whole night.”