“So, George, you’re studying your genealogy,” Caroline said, smoothing back her hair from the wind. The pulsating music from the boom box droned on, and the girls went through their routine, but Caroline seemed oblivious to it all. “Tell me, how are you related to Joy? Are you a long-lost cousin, or what?”
The way she looked him in the eye and smiled, Caroline had the teacher stare down pat. Despite all his years in front of a class, George hadn’t quite perfected that Don’t-Give-Me-Any-Nonsense look.
“I’m not doing a thesis, Caroline,” he admitted.
She nodded. “Yeah, the more I thought about that, the more I wasn’t really buying it. What do you want, Mr. McMillan?”
“I’m trying to find out some information about my 19-year-old niece’s birth parents. She was adopted when she was four. Her name is Amelia Faraday, but I believe it was Schlessinger before that.”
Caroline’s eyes wrestled with his for a moment. Then she sighed, shifted around on the bleacher bench, and glanced toward the cheerleaders again. “What kind of information are you after?” she asked.
“Anything that might help,” George replied. “Amelia is a sweet, intelligent, pretty young woman. But she also has a lot of problems. She’s had problems ever since she was a child. I’m hoping you could help us understand why that is.”
“By us, do you mean Amelia’s parents and yourself? Why aren’t they here?”
“They were killed, along with my wife, a little over a week ago,” George explained. “My two children and I are Amelia’s only living relatives, at least, the only ones I’m aware of.”
“I–I’m sorry for your loss,” she murmured, visibly flustered. Then she covered her mouth and slowly shook her head. “My Lord, both families gone. It’s as if that poor girl were cursed.”
“I hear you were friends with Joy Schlessinger,” George said.
She sighed. “Well, I probably knew her better than anyone else around here. I met her and Lon when they first moved to Salem in 1993. I was part of the Salem Cares Committee, and one of our functions was to roll out the welcome wagon to new residents. Depending how sociable people were, we could be a blessing or a major pain in the ass. Anyway, the Schlessingers seemed to appreciate our efforts. They were from Moses Lake, Washington.”
“And that’s where the twins were born, in Moses Lake?” George asked.
Nodding, she scrutinized the cheerleading squad again as they took a break between routines. “Not bad, ladies!” she called. “Let’s see the next routine. Nancy Abbe, do me a favor and turn down the music a notch.”
She turned to George again. “Anyway, I felt sorry for Joy. The poor thing was in a new city, and didn’t know a soul. Plus she was stuck on this ranch on the outskirts of town. Lon was very, I don’t know, remote, always off hunting and fishing. I got the feeling in the course of a normal day at that ranch he probably said a total of eleven words to her. He and Joy’s brother, Duane, used to go camping and hunting together. Duane lived in Pasco. He’s the one who introduced Lon to Joy. I only met Duane once, which was quite enough for me, thank you very much.”
“You didn’t care for him?” George asked.
“No, sir,” she replied, frowning. “He was one of those short, wiry, overly macho types-very high strung, like a little pit bull.”
“Sounds as if you had him pegged pretty quickly, and early, considering what he went on to achieve.”
“Then you know about it,” she said, rubbing her arms. “Yes, he struck me as a time bomb ready to go off. He wasn’t very social. I don’t think anyone in Salem ever met him. He just showed up to go hunting with Lon-that’s it. No stops in town, no dinners out, nothing. The only reason I met him is because I used to drive out to the ranch to visit Joy, and he happened to be there that day. He and Joy were both odd ducks. She was a bit overzealous on the Bible thumping for me. I mean, I’m a Christian and very spiritual. It’s why I stayed friends with Joy, even though I never really felt close to her. Being a friend in need seemed the Christian thing to do, y’know? I think, deep down, she had a good soul. But Joy was one of those fire-and-brimstone fundamentalists. She used religion the way some people use alcohol, as an escape from reality. I don’t think she had a handle on what was going on around her.” Caroline shrugged. “Then again, considering what life had to offer poor Joy, it’s no wonder she needed some escape.”
“What about her daughters?” George asked. “How was she with them?”
“There was only Annabelle when they moved here from Moses Lake,” she explained.
George nodded. It made sense, because Amelia had been adopted through an agency in Spokane, Washington-about a ninety-minute drive from Moses Lake. Obviously, the Schlessingers had transplanted to Salem without her.
“Did Joy ever tell you what happened to Amelia?” he asked.
Caroline winced a bit, then sighed. “Amelia’s the main reason they moved away. When the girl was four years old, she was abducted and molested by a neighbor man. Later, they found out this same man had raped and murdered a young woman who worked in a restaurant in Moses Lake.”
George just stared at her. This was what Karen had been looking for, the incident in Amelia’s early childhood.
“Lon shot the man dead,” Caroline continued, “just as the police were closing in on him. They rescued Amelia, but the little girl wasn’t the same after that. Joy and Lon had the worst time with her. They took her to several doctors, but I guess she was beyond help. She kept trying to run away. She even tried to kill herself-a four-year-old, for God’s sake. Joy caught her with one of Lon’s guns. They finally had to put her into foster care. It just broke Joy’s heart, but they couldn’t handle her anymore. Apparently, Lon didn’t want to, but Joy totally relinquished custody. She had no idea where her child was. They told all their acquaintances in Moses Lake that Amelia had been sent to live with relatives up in Winnipeg.
“Anyway, not long after they moved here, Joy’s mental health started to deteriorate. I don’t think she ever recovered from what happened to Annabelle’s twin. They weren’t here very long, just a few months when, one day, little Annabelle discovered her mother dead in the basement. She’d hanged herself. She left a note, apologizing to God and her family, and asking me to look after Annabelle.”
“And a few weeks later,” George interjected. “Duane Savitt went on a killing rampage at the adoption agency in Spokane. Do you know why? Do you have any idea what that was about?”
A pained look passed over Caroline’s face for a moment. She turned to glance at the cheerleaders, and then stood up. “Okay, ladies! That looked great. You can wrap it up a little early today. Nancy, can you drop off the boom box in my office? Thanks!”
Hands in the pockets of her sweater, she stood on the bleachers and watched the cheerleaders disperse. She waited until the last girl left the field, and then she glanced down at George. “No one else in town knew about Amelia,” she said quietly. “Joy had asked me to keep it a secret. I believe Annabelle got similar instructions. Growing up, she didn’t talk about her twin-not until high school. Then I hear she told a few friends different stories about a twin who had died. But I believe Annabelle, her father, and I were the only ones who knew the truth.”
She sat down beside George again. “When I read about Duane Savitt shooting those people and setting that adoption agency on fire, I knew what it was about, at least, remotely.”
“But you didn’t go to the police,” George said.
Caroline sighed and shook her head. She stared out at the empty spot on the field, where the cheerleading squad had been practicing minutes before. “No. I heard they spoke to Lon. The story he gave them was that his brother-in-law had been estranged from the family for years. I was the only one in town who knew differently. I suppose Duane was as elusive with the good people of Moses Lake as he was with Salem folk. Because no one from Moses Lake stepped forward, claiming to know Duane. I know, because I read a lot of articles about that Spokane massacre.”
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“I read them too,” George said. “You, um, you could have given the police some idea as to Duane’s motive. They never did come up with one.”
She nodded. “I know. But Lon asked me not to say anything-for Annabelle’s sake. She’d been through a lot, and was still trying to get over her mother’s suicide. This awful news about her Uncle Duane was devastating.” Caroline slowly shook her head. “I felt a certain responsibility to Annabelle. After all, Joy had asked me to look after her. So, I didn’t say anything. The police never approached me about it. I was never forced to lie, thank God. I just didn’t say anything to anybody.” She turned and gave George a sad smile. “You’re the first one I’ve told.”
“I understand,” George murmured, nodding.
Caroline glanced out at the playing field again. “You know, years later, when Annabelle was fourteen, she asked me to explain what her uncle had done. I told her what I could. And then Annabelle said something very strange. She remembered her Uncle Duane asking her several times if she knew where Amelia was. Isn’t that peculiar?”
Caroline pushed back her windblown hair and sighed. “How did he expect that little girl to know where her sister was living when her own father didn’t even know?”
“Yep, I have the appointment book right in front of me,” Jessie said on the other end of the line. “I’m in your office. It’s here in the book: Amelia Faraday, Monday, October fifteenth, two P.M. And there’s a red checkmark beside it.”
That was Karen’s way of indicating the client had shown up for the appointment and needed to be billed.
“Then her twin must be alive,” Karen whispered. She slouched back against the phone booth’s door.
“What are you talking about? Whose twin?”
“Um, I’ll explain later, Jessie.”
The lights went on outside Danny’s Diner, and Karen realized it was getting dark. “Listen,” she said into the phone. “Is everything okay there?”
“Terrific. The kids are playing with Rufus in the kitchen, and he’s lapping up the attention. We’ll take him out to the backyard so he can do his business. Is there anything else you need done here before we head back to George’s?”
“No, thanks. You’re great, Jessie. Remember everything I told you this morning? Well, it still stands. If you happen to see my car or if Amelia shows up at George’s-”
“I know,” Jessie cut in. “Be careful…she could be dangerous…call the police…do not pass Go, do not collect $200…”
“I’m serious,” Karen said, “doubly serious now.”
“We’ll be careful, hon. You drive safe. Talk to you soon.”
“Thank you again, Jess.”
She hung up, then immediately called George again. She was charging all these calls. Her American Express bill would be nuts, but right now she didn’t care.
George answered on the second ring. “Karen?”
“Yes, hi-”
“Looks like you’re still in that phone booth by the diner,” he said. “I have the number on my cell. Let me call you back there in fifteen minutes, okay?”
She hesitated. “All right. But have you talked with Annabelle’s teacher yet?”
“I’m doing that right now. Sorry to make you stick around there. Go inside the diner and grab a Coke or something. I’ll call you in fifteen.”
“Okay, but you should know-” Karen heard a click.
“Annabelle’s alive,” she said to no one.
“Can we take Rufus home with us?” Stephanie asked. She wouldn’t stop petting him, even while the dog lifted a leg and peed on the hydrangea bushes near Karen’s back door.
“Well, I don’t think Karen would like coming home to an empty house tonight,” Jessie said, standing on the back steps. The kitchen door was open behind her.
Jody held Rufus by his leash. He pulled his kid sister away from the dog. “Leave him alone for a minute so he can take a dump. Jeez!”
Stephanie resisted for a few moments, and finally turned toward Jessie. “Why don’t Karen and Rufus come live with us?”
“I’m working on that one, honey,” she replied. “Now, Jody’s right, you have to leave Rufus be for just a minute or two. And you need to calm down, too.”
Stephanie had asthma, and she’d left her inhaler at Rainbow Junction Daycare this afternoon. They’d be on pins and needles until they got back home, where she had two more inhalers. In the meantime, Steffie wasn’t supposed to exert herself or get overexcited.
“Just take it easy, sweetheart,” she called to her. “Why don’t you…” Jessie trailed off as she heard a noise behind her in the kitchen.
She turned around, and gasped.
Standing by the breakfast table, she wore a rain slicker and clutched her purse to her side. She had a tiny, cryptic smile on her face.
“Oh, my God, you scared me,” Jessie said, a hand on her heart. “What are you doing here, Amelia?”
Chapter Eighteen
“Sorry about the interruption,” George said, tucking the cell phone in his sports coat pocket. He’d stepped down to the playing field to take Karen’s call. Now he made his way back up the bleachers. “Where was I?”
“You asked me about the fire,” Caroline Cadwell said.
Nodding, he sat down beside her. “So the police called you late one night in July….”
“Yes, I had no idea Lon put me down on his insurance policy as his emergency contact. There was no next of kin, so they called me to identify the remains.”
“Did you drive out to the ranch that night?”
“Oh, no. They didn’t get the bodies out of there until about two in the morning. Because the ranch was so remote, it took a while for the fire trucks to arrive and even longer to get water in the hoses. In the meantime, the whole upstairs was burnt, along with most of the first floor. You can still see what’s left of the place if you drive a couple of miles outside town. They haven’t leveled it yet.”
Shuddering, Caroline rubbed her arms. “Do you mind if we head inside? I’m starting to feel a chill.”
“Not at all,” George murmured.
“Can you imagine?” she said, heading down the bleacher steps with him. “All that destruction, a house left in cinders, because someone was smoking in bed. But that’s how it happened, just like the old cliche. Lon had a Camel going, and he dozed off. What a stupid waste. Anyway, they asked me to come to the morgue the following morning at 9:30. I don’t know why they put me through it. I mean, the fire was at the Schlessinger ranch. Lon was forty-six and Annabelle was sixteen. The two bodies were a male in his late forties and a female in her late teens. It wasn’t too tough to figure out who they were.”
George walked with her along the playing field toward a side door into the school. It was an ugly, three-story granite building from the Reagan era. Eyes downcast, Caroline kept rubbing her arms. “It was pretty awful,” she muttered. “I had to go into this cold, little room that smelled rancid. I’m sorry, but the stench was horrible. That was one of the worst parts. The bodies were covered with white sheets, and they had them on metal slabs. First, I identified Lon. There was nothing left of his hair. His face was just blood, blisters, and burn marks, but I still recognized him. However, Annabelle-well, she was a skull with blackened skin stretched over it. Her mouth was wide open like she was screaming….”
George noticed tears in Caroline’s eyes. He gently rested his hand on her shoulder.
“I’d known her since she was a little girl,” she said, her voice quivering. “I’d watched her grow up into a beautiful young lady. I had a hard time believing that-thing was Annabelle. The height and body type were Annabelle’s, but I couldn’t say for sure it was her. Then I remembered the bracelet.”
“What bracelet?” George stopped with Caroline as she pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose.
“Annabelle had a favorite bracelet, silver with these pretty roses engraved on it,” Caroline explained. “She wore it all the time. It used to be her mother’s. The
bracelet was about two inches wide, and covered up an ugly scar. Annabelle had burned the back of her wrist rather badly when she was a child.
“Anyway, I asked the attendant in the morgue if I could see her left arm. He lifted the sheet and showed me. And there was the wide silver bracelet, almost melded to her burnt skin and bones. Then I knew it was her.”
“That’s how you identified Annabelle’s body?” George asked. He wondered if the local police and coroner realized Ms. Cadwell had based her positive ID on a piece of jewelry around the wrist of a charred corpse.
“Well, what other proof do you want?” she shot back.
“Maybe dental records,” he muttered. “Did they check their dental records?”
“I don’t think so. Why should they?”
Because I know someone who thinks Annabelle could still be alive, George wanted to answer. But he didn’t want to argue with Caroline Cadwell over something that had happened three years ago. She had no reason to be suspicious about the fire. And she’d been very forthright with him.
George held open the door for her, and Caroline strode into the school, murmuring a thank-you under her breath. She stopped and leaned against a trophy case in the school hallway. Wiping her eyes again, she gave him a tired smile. “I always get emotional when I think about Annabelle. I was sort of her honorary godmother. It’s no wonder I had a hard time identifying her remains. If only you knew how pretty she was….”
“But I do know,” George reminded her. “My niece is her twin. I know exactly what you mean. Amelia’s very beautiful.”
Caroline nodded pensively. “You know, it’s ironic. I used to worry about Annabelle spending so much time alone on that ranch in the middle of nowhere. Lon continued to go off fishing and hunting for days at a time.” Frowning, she shook her head. “I just didn’t understand his nonchalance. You see, for several years, we had a-a series of disappearances. Several young women in the area vanished without a trace. A few were even former students of mine. So, maybe I was more sensitive and worried about it than some people. But I couldn’t help thinking about Annabelle, alone on that ranch, a perfect target for whoever was out there preying on young women.” She shrugged. “And after all my concern, Annabelle ended up dying in a fire, started by her father’s cigarette.”
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