All of a sudden, the phone rang at her elbow. She jumped at the unexpected ring. Picking up the phone, she punched the button to receive the call and held the phone to her ear, her heart still pounding. “Hello,” she said.
There was silence at the other end. She could hear breathing.
“Hello. Who is this?” she demanded. The caller did not speak. Emma heard a click and the call was over.
There was someone there, she thought. Why wouldn’t they answer? She pressed *69 to try to retrieve the number. It was a cell phone exchange, a number that she didn’t recognize. She thought of calling it back but told herself she was being stupid. Someone called a wrong number, realized it, and hung up. That’s all it was.
But she no longer felt safe in the little bedroom. The ringing phone. The locked drawer. The nurse mysteriously gone. The room she was sharing with her husband in the house she loved so much suddenly felt unfriendly to her. The wind was rising, and branches from the bushes outside flailed at the windowpane, snapping at her. She wondered if all the windows in the house were locked. The prospect of getting up and going around to every window, even on the first floor, seemed like more than she was physically capable of doing. And the second floor would be impossible. I need help, she thought frantically. Her mind raced, thinking of the people she knew. Stephanie, she thought. She dialed her friend’s number and got the machine. Maybe she’s still at school. It took her a moment to remember the number of the school. But the secretary there said that Stephanie had left an hour ago.
Emma slammed down the phone in frustration. Part of her wanted to collapse in a sobbing heap. She tried to focus on her sensible side. You have to try to make sure the windows are locked, she thought. Anyone could come in. The thought propelled her from the chair, but it also made her start to cry. She limped out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, tears drizzling down her face. David, why aren’t you with me? She knew it was weak and feeble of her to expect him to hover over her. But she felt weak and feeble. Emma shuffled over to the kitchen sink and started to lean up to check the lock on the window. Just as she reached for the latch, she heard a loud crack above her head. Gooseflesh broke out up and down her arms. She whirled around, her heart pounding.
Someone in the house. Upstairs. They got in. She imagined the man in the ski mask hovering on the floor above her, starting down the stairs. Emma lurched across the kitchen, grabbed the phone, and punched in 911.
“Can I help you?” asked the steady voice.
“I think there’s someone in my house,” Emma cried.
“Okay, calm down,” said the operator. “Did you see anyone?”
“No, but a man tried to kill me and I think he might have come back,” she whispered.
“Okay. Why do you think there’s someone there?”
Emma was beginning to hyperventilate. “There was a loud…cracking sound. From upstairs. He’s up there. Send the police. Please…I’m injured and I can’t…”
“Okay, I will do that.”
“My name is Emma Webster. I’m at 611 Spencer Drive. We’re at the end of the street. The last house.”
“I’m putting the call out for a patrol car right now,” said the operator soothingly.
“Don’t hang up on me,” Emma pleaded.
“I won’t,” the operator said reassuringly. “The officer is not far from you. He ought to be there any minute now.”
“Thank you,” Emma said. “Really. Thank you.”
“That’s all right, ma’am. Look out your window. You should be able to see his lights any minute.”
“Okay, I’m looking,” said Emma. “I don’t see anything….”
She clutched the phone and approached the front window to try to see outside. All of a sudden, there was a flashing light in her driveway.
“He’s here,” Emma cried into the phone.
“All right, ma’am. You’ll be all right now.”
A moment later, there was a knock at her door.
Emma picked up her cane and hobbled to the door, still clutching the phone receiver. She looked through the peephole. A young, uniformed patrolman stood on her front step. Emma unlocked the door and let him in.
“Thank you, officer. Thank you for getting here so quickly.”
“That’s all right, ma’am,” said the policeman, who looked barely older than Emma. “You think there’s someone in the house.”
“Yes, upstairs,” she said.
“All right, I’m going to go on up there. You wait right here. Okay?”
“Be careful,” Emma said, following him into the living room.
The young man flipped the switch at the foot of the stairs and began to climb up. Emma’s heart was pounding in her chest, and she leaned against the back of one of the living-room chairs.
The shrill blast of the phone in her hand made her cry out. Her heart leapt again, actually feeling painful in her chest. She pressed the button and barked into the receiver, “Who is it?”
“Emma?” said a worried voice. “It’s Burke.”
Emma sank back against the chair and let out a sigh. “Burke. Oh thank God.”
“What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
“No. I’m not. I have the police here. There’s someone in the house.”
“Where’s David?” he demanded.
“David’s not here,” said Emma.
Burke was silent for a moment. “All right. I’m on my way. I’m leaving the center right now. I’ll be there in no time,” Burke said.
“Thank you,” Emma whispered, but he had already hung up.
“Ma’am,” came a voice from upstairs. “Do you normally leave the bathroom door open up here at the top of the stairs?”
Emma tried to think. “I don’t know. Yes, I guess so,” she said.
The officer appeared at the upstairs landing. “The bathroom window is open, and the door is shut,” he said.
Emma shook her head. “I don’t understand. Did you find someone? Did they come in through the window?”
The young man shook his head. “There’s no one up here,” said the officer. “But there is a lot of wind out there. Sometimes the wind will blow a door shut, and it makes a loud cracking sound.”
Emma was silent, but her face flamed. She knew instantly, the moment the patrolman said it, that he had assessed the situation correctly. A door slamming shut. Emma had heard it before in a high wind. The window in the bathroom at the top of the stairs. Emma slumped down into the living room chair and tried to let her heart quiet down. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m sorry.”
Is this what my life is going to be? she wondered. Somebody who calls the police when a door blows shut? Afraid of every shadow. How do you live like that? She rested her head in her hands. It had felt so good to go to Kellerman’s and try to take charge of things. But it had not amounted to anything really. And now she was more weary than ever and a bundle of raw nerves.
The patrolman came down the stairs shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s no problem.”
“I feel so stupid,” Emma said. “Wasting your time like that.”
The patrolman looked at her gravely. “I mean it. Don’t worry. You have good reason to be jumpy, Mrs. Webster.”
Emma gazed up at him, surprised.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Webster,” he said kindly. “I know who you are.”
Emma looked away from him, unable to meet his sympathetic gaze. A known victim, she thought. That is who you are. Then she said in a soft voice, “A friend is on the way here. Would you mind waiting with me until he arrives?”
The young patrolman did not reply but walked around her chair and sat down on the sofa.
13
RAIN BEAT AGAINST the large casement windows in Burke Heisler’s kitchen, but Emma did not fear its fury. Seated with her feet up on the ottoman of a plaid club chair, a glass of sparkling water in her hand, Emma finally began to feel relaxed. When Burke had arrived at her
house, the patrolman left. Burke offered to order some food and wait there with her until David came home. But Emma was overcome by a suffocating feeling of claustrophobia and the desire to be anywhere but in her own house. Burke suggested that they leave a note for David and go to his place, where he could throw some dinner together for them and Emma could rest.
“I’m sorry about all this, Burke,” she said now. “I feel like the girl who cried wolf. My nerves are shot.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad I could help.”
Burke stood facing her at his kitchen island wearing a silly butcher’s apron that read KISS THE COOK. He was sipping on a glass of wine as he stirred the pasta on the stove. The fragrant sauce he had defrosted was bubbling on a nearby burner. The warmth of the kitchen, in combination with her painkillers, was making Emma feel comfortably drowsy.
“You just don’t look like a cook,” said Emma, smiling.
Burke picked up a shiny spatula and gazed into its surface. “Why? Because I have the face of a bulldog?” he asked.
“You do not,” she said stoutly. “I remember when you taught my freshman psych class. I had such a crush on you.”
Burke’s eyebrows rose into his furrowed forehead. “You did. I’m flattered.”
“Well, you were kind of a glamorous, mysterious figure to us freshman. I always figured that you secretly liked me back, but that you didn’t want to cross that teacher-student line. At least, that’s what I thought until you started dating my roommate.”
“I did notice you, Emma,” he said. “I thought you were cute.”
“Oh, don’t bother saying that. Natalie was in a whole different league,” said Emma. “She was so…magnetic.”
“I actually did feel a little guilty about the student-teacher thing, but Natalie always defied the rules,” said Burke. “When I tried to explain my reservations, it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. She wanted me all the more. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Emma felt a little prickle of indignation. “You mean, she came on to you?”
“Like a freight train,” Burke said. “Why? You look surprised.”
“It’s just that…she knew that I liked you. I was always gushing about you,” Emma said.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, there were times over the years when I wished I had resisted her,” he admitted with a sigh.
Emma saw a shade of melancholy descend on her host. She wanted to change the subject. “Look, can’t I at least set the table? I feel like a lazy slug sitting here.”
Burke pulled out a tray table from behind the kitchen door and set it down next to her. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not. You are in no shape to do anything. I’ll bring your plate to you. Set the table indeed. You probably shouldn’t even be out of the house.”
“Actually, I think the more I get out of the house, the better off I’ll be,” she said. “In fact, I’m hoping I can come back to work next week.”
“It’s too soon, Emma,” Burke said.
“I need to, Burke. I can’t sit around the house thinking about what happened to me. Besides, my patients’ problems will help me get my mind off my own.”
“Let’s discuss it in a day or two,” Burke said firmly.
He set a place for her on the tray table and then one for himself at the kitchen island facing her. He dished up the food and brought a plate to her.
“I wonder if we should wait for David,” she fretted.
“I’ll save him a plate,” said Burke.
The smell of the food made her mouth water. “Burke, thank you again,” she said as she shook out her napkin.
Burke sat down and raised his glass to her. “To your speedy recovery,” he said.
Emma lifted her glass of sparkling water as well and smiled. “Thank you for rescuing me. I feel much better being here with you and getting out of the house.”
“Good,” he said. “Mangia, mangia.” For a few moments they ate in silence.
“This is great,” Emma said.
Burke smiled. “Now, Emma, have you heard anything more from the police about the progress of their investigation?”
Emma shook her head. “Our attorney advised us not to talk to them. Besides, they seem to have blinders on. David says all their attention is focused on him.”
Burked nodded. “I know what that’s like. When Natalie…before they found her…they kept questioning me. More like harrassing me. It’s very upsetting, when you’re grieving, to have people looking at you that way. And with David…well, he always had his troubles with the police. As a kid he had a bad attitude, and so whenever there was trouble in town, they’d pick him up. A couple of times my dad had to go down to the station and get him out.”
“He definitely resents the police,” she said.
“But, Emma, this is different. You have to talk to them. They need your input.”
Emma’s cheeks reddened. “That’s what I think but…David says he’s being targeted, for no other reason than that he married a woman with a trust fund.”
Burke frowned. “Wads of money is a time-honored motive for murder.”
Emma set down her fork and looked at him indignantly. “Burke, how can you say that? David is your best friend.”
“I don’t mean that I think that. Of course not. But in all fairness, I didn’t get the impression that Lieutenant Atkins had her mind made up about who was responsible. I gave her the anonymous letters you had received, and she seemed very interested in those. I also—I hope you won’t mind this—I also told her that they ought to talk to Lyle Devlin.”
“Lyle Devlin? Ivy’s father?” Emma asked.
“Well, they asked me if anyone had…threatened you. I didn’t tell you about this when it happened, but when Ivy died Devlin came to my office and he was ranting and raving.”
“About me?” Emma said.
“I didn’t want you to know at the time. You were upset enough as it was.”
Emma blanched. “You agreed with me about the decision I made….”
“I did. And I told Devlin that and sent him on his way,” said Burke. “Still, I thought the police ought to know about it.”
Emma nodded and tried to eat some more, but suddenly her appetite was gone. She felt tears rising to her eyes again and dabbed them away with her napkin.
“Oh, Emma, I’m sorry,” Burke said.
Emma shook her head. “You didn’t do anything. I think it’s the pain and the exhaustion.”
Burke nodded and focused on his food, avoiding her gaze. “I do understand,” he said.
Emma looked at him sadly. Of course he did. There were many reminders of Natalie in this lovely, gleaming house. Piles of poetry books and sterling silver framed photos. Despite her abusive, impoverished up-bringing, Natalie had had exquisite, expensive taste, and it showed in every corner of their home. And as Emma well remembered, she’d had a whimsical side as well. Emma had noticed a matching apron to the one Burke wore, still hanging in the pantry. “How are you managing, anyway?” she said.
He shrugged. “Time wounds all heels,” he said.
She smiled at his joke but persisted. “I mean it, Burke. Is it getting easier?”
Burke sighed and set down his silverware. “Sometimes. Sometimes I’m very rational and self-analytical. I monitor my own grief and pronounce myself as adjusting well or dealing with it. Other times…” He gazed at the rain beating on the window and his expression was desolate. “Other times I…shake my fist at the heavens. Try to make a bargain with God. If you will only give her back to me…you know.”
“Oh, Burke,” Emma said sympathetically, but a part of her wondered how he could want a life back that had seemed so…difficult and…in some ways…just miserable. No one blamed Natalie for her manic depression, but her refusal to take her medication had always seemed just a little…selfish to Emma.
He shook his head. “I know. It’s totally nuts.”
“You loved her,” Emma said loyally.
&nbs
p; Burke nodded, and then a silence fell between them. Emma looked out at the driving rain. “I hope David’s all right,” she fretted aloud.
“Was he driving to New York?” Burke asked.
“No, he took the train.”
“I’m surprised he left you alone in this condition,” Burke said.
“Actually, I wasn’t alone,” said Emma. “My mother hired a private duty nurse to stand guard over me. But I sneaked out of the house this afternoon and I guess she got mad and left in a huff. She wasn’t there when I got back.”
“She didn’t leave you any explanation?”
Emma shook her head. “Just picked up and left.”
“That’s kind of odd,” Burke said.
“I know.”
“Is she supposed to come back tomorrow?” he asked.
“I have no idea. She’ll probably request a transfer,” said Emma.
Burke looked at her with a concerned expression on his face. “So, you left the house by yourself? Wasn’t that kind of dangerous? Where did you go?”
“Well, this is kind of disgusting but…” Emma gave him a brief recounting of the ghastly wedding present.
“Oh no,” said Burke, unsmiling. “Another message from your admirer? You have got to help the police track this guy down.”
“Well, I thought I might be able to track him down myself.” She explained that she went to Kellerman’s to try and identify the sender.
“And did you find out who sent it?” he asked.
Emma shook her head. “They don’t carry this item anymore. They used to, but they don’t anymore.”
“Really, what was it?” Burke asked.
“Well, it was pretty actually. It was a dish in the shape of a shell. Like a scallop shell, made out of silver. The guy told me that they didn’t carry that dish anymore and that I must have been ‘regifted.’”
“How big was it?”
“The dish? Not too big,” said Emma. “No bigger than a…mouse.”
Burke had a strange expression on his face, and he avoided her gaze.
“Burke, what is it?”
“We received one of those too when we got married,” he said.
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