“Yeah, he’s guilty, all right. Just not of murder.”
Jennifer stared off into the café. “Don’t worry about it, Kelly. There’s no way I can prove I wasn’t involved in Everett’s death. Peterson will either believe me or not.”
“I know, I know, but . . .”
“You wanted to fix it,” Jennifer said, smiling at her. “Some thing’s you just can’t fix, Sherlock. Cal Everett’s dead. I went out that night for a walk alone. You can’t change that. It is what it is.”
Kelly didn’t like that. She was used to solving problems. Accounting problems, business problems, financial problems, even people problems. Now there was a great big problem involving her dear friend, and Kelly couldn’t do anything. She felt helpless. Kelly hated that feeling.
“At least Peterson knows you. That’s something.”
Jennifer walked up and put her hand on Kelly’s arm. “I have a feeling everything’s going to be all right. So stop worrying, okay?”
Kelly sighed. “Okay, I’ll try. But let me know if Peterson wants to talk to you again.”
“Absolutely,” Jennifer agreed with a nod. “Now, you go into the shop and finish that vest before it’s too hot to wear it. I’ve got to check my outside customers.”
Kelly raised her mug in salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.” Then she headed toward the hallway that led into the knitting shop.
Lambspun customers were already prowling the bins and shelves, examining bright summer yarns. Kelly fingered some skeins of cotton and silk as she strolled through the rooms on the way to the knitting table. This would be a good time to catch up on her accounts. There was nothing like numbers to keep her mind occupied. Number problems were a lot easier to handle. You didn’t worry about number problems. You solved them.
As she trailed her fingers across a bin of enticing bamboo and silk blended yarns, Kelly noticed a woman exploring the skeins of novelty yarns in the corner. Something about her looked familiar. Kelly observed the woman, watched her sort through the bins. Where had she seen her before? Dark brown hair in a ponytail, looked in her thirties, maybe. Where was it?
Suddenly Kelly remembered. The canyon retreat. The woman was one of the attendees. One of Dr. Norcross’s patients. That’s it. Kelly searched her memory, waiting for a name to come. Her name started with an E. Edie. That’s right.
Another memory popped into Kelly’s head. Edie was the one who had been out of town. She was Greta’s roommate.
That thought started more ideas churning. Maybe Greta talked to Edie about her sister and her suicide. After all, they shared a cabin while at that emotion-filled retreat. Maybe they talked and shared with each other when they were alone.
“Edie, is that you?” Kelly said, venturing closer.
The woman’s head jerked up, and she stared at Kelly for a second before smiling in recognition. “Hey . . . Kelly, isn’t it? How’re you doing?”
“I’m fine. Weren’t you out of town or something? I think I remember you mentioning at the retreat that you had to travel a lot with your job,” Kelly fudged. Edie had mentioned her job, that was all.
“Yeah, I’ve been away on business for a couple of weeks. Consulting has its demands. But I put a reminder on my daytimer to check out this shop when I returned. I remembered how you guys described it and the yarns.” She gazed around in admiration. “Boy, you didn’t exaggerate.”
Kelly grinned. “Yeah. It has that effect on people. We call it the ‘yarn trance’ or ‘fiber fever.’ ”
Edie laughed. “Well, you’re right about that. I’ve picked out several yarns trying to decide which is best for my new project. I want to knit a triangular shawl. Maybe you can take a look at my pattern and see if I’ve got the right thing or not.”
Startled that anyone would actually ask her opinion of knitting techniques or procedures, Kelly hesitated a beat. “Sure, I’ll be glad to. Why don’t we take your basket over to the table, and we can take a look.” She plopped her bag on the knitting table, then gestured to the chair beside hers. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Edie settled and began rummaging through her basket of yarns, then pulled out a pattern. “I was thinking of knitting the shawl with a lot of different yarns. Then I found this big ball of special yarns and wondered if it would work all right with my pattern. What do you think?”
Kelly looked over the page and inwardly sighed in relief. She’d made this shawl herself. Whew! “Oh, this is a nice pattern, and it’s easy to knit. I’ve done it myself.” She fondled the ball of yarns Edie had chosen. “Just to be sure, you’ll want to knit a gauge swatch to see if these yarns will match the gauge the pattern recommends. Looks like you’ve got the right needles, circular size 15.”
Edie looked doubtful. “How do I make a gauge swatch?”
Kelly recognized that look. She’d worn it a lot. “It’s easy. All you have to do is cast on about twelve or so stitches, then knit about six or eight rows. Then you measure with a ruler. That will tell you if you’re getting four stitches to the inch like the pattern says.”
“I can do that,” Edie replied, confidence resurfacing.
Kelly took out her vest-in-progress while Edie started to cast stitches onto her needles. Kelly deliberately let a couple of quiet minutes pass before speaking. Let the meditative and relaxing knitting “vibe” take over. Something about the relaxed knitting activity made conversation flow, just like it had at the retreat that weekend.
“Didn’t you and Greta share a cabin at the retreat?” she ventured finally.
Edie nodded, keeping her concentration on her stitches. “Yeah. She’s a really nice gal. Good martial arts instructor, too. I may take it up. If I ever find the time.”
“Yeah, I liked Greta, too. That’s why I’m concerned. Lisa says she seems to be going into some kind of depression lately.”
Edie looked up. “Really? Ohhhh, that’s too bad. She seemed okay at the retreat. Of course, I didn’t know her before.”
Kelly knitted another few stitches. “Apparently she’s acting really nervous and jumpy and doesn’t want to talk to people. She’s withdrawn from everyone. Lisa said some of Greta’s friends are really getting worried. One of the therapists has known her for a long time and said Greta got like that after her sister died a few years ago.”
Edie shook her head. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know how traumatic that was for Greta because she told me. That evening after Jennifer had shared what happened to her . . . well, Greta and I started talking when we got back to the cabin. I wasn’t able to share in front of the others, but somehow talking to Greta made it easier.”
“Sounds like she’ll make a great therapist.” Kelly stitched to the end of the row. “So, she told you that her sister killed herself?”
Edie returned to her swatch, making slow, careful stitches. “That was so tragic. It sounded like Greta found the best counselors she could, but they must not have been a match because her sister didn’t respond. I mean, none of us ever gets over being raped, but if we’re lucky, we learn how to overcome and not let it define our lives. That’s why I’m so grateful I found Dr. Norcross.”
Kelly stared at Edie, momentarily speechless. Bonnie Baldwin had been raped? Good Lord! That had to be the reason she committed suicide. And Greta blamed herself for not saving Bonnie. No wonder Greta had spiraled into a depression after the retreat. Being surrounded by women who had suffered the same trauma was bound to bring all of those old memories swirling back.
“Good Lord, I didn’t know her sister was assaulted,” Kelly breathed. “How awful.”
Edie nodded. “According to Greta, some guy followed her sister home from a bar in Fort Connor one night. Told her she’d left something at the bar, then forced his way in. Just like Jennifer described.”
A cold chill rippled across Kelly’s skin at the sound of Edie’s words and the raw emotion beneath. Kelly sat in silence. There was nothing she could say which could express the revulsion she felt right now.
Her thoughts,
however, were anything but quiet. They screamed for Kelly’s attention. A guy followed Bonnie home, lied about her leaving something at the bar, then forced his way in. Bonnie’s assault was exactly like Jennifer’s. Could that be a coincidence? Was the same attacker responsible? Did Cal Everett rape Bonnie, years before he raped Jenifer?
Kelly’s pulse started to race with the thoughts that zoomed through her mind now. She’d bet anything it was Everett. The attacks were so similar. Did Greta learn who raped her sister, or did she put it together when she heard Jennifer’s story?
“Did Bonnie go to the police? Did they find out who did it?”
Edie shook her head, still stitching. “Apparently Bonnie didn’t want to go to the police, even though Greta begged her. She never filed a report.”
“So they never learned who the attacker was?”
“No. Greta said Bonnie swore her to secrecy about the rape. She didn’t want anyone to know. She simply withdrew from everyone, Greta said.”
“Damn . . .” Kelly said softly. “If only she’d pressed charges, maybe . . . maybe that guy would have been found and caught.”
“Maybe. Some attackers never are, Kelly. That’s why Greta worked so hard to find good therapists for her sister. She said she kept watching Bonnie close off, and she didn’t know what else to do. Greta said she must have taken Bonnie to five different therapists over two years.”
“That is so sad,” Kelly said softly, staring at her yarn. “And poor Greta is carrying such a huge load of guilt around.” She started knitting once again, wondering how to ask the next question that pushed forward. “Did Greta ever try to find out who the guy was?”
“Yeah, she tried. She said she went to that bar and asked the bartender some questions, but he didn’t remember seeing her sister, let alone the guy with her. Greta said she wanted to find out who he was so she could confront him. Tell him he was responsible for Bonnie’s death. Hold him accountable. That’s what she said.”
Kelly knitted another row of stitches, sorting through her thoughts. They’d slowed down as well, no longer speed-racing like they did whenever a new scenario formed in her mind. Now, they played through her mind more deliberately, so she could consider each possibility.
It sounded like Greta had tried to learn the identity of her sister’s attacker. Had she figured it out? Did she already know it was Cal Everett? Is that why she came on the retreat? Or, did she listen to Jennifer’s account of her assault and suddenly realize the similarity? That must be it.
Kelly stitched another row, then another, as those possibilities played through her mind. Clearly Greta was sorting through everything she learned that weekend. Is that why she shared her sister’s story with Edie? Was she preparing herself to confront Cal Everett? She’d told Edie that she wanted to face Bonnie’s attacker and hold him accountable for what he did. He caused her sister’s death.
Did Greta confront Cal Everett that night? When? She and Edie retired to their cabin about the same time as Kelly and Lisa. There were still women by the campfire. They would have told police if they saw Greta walking about.
Suddenly, a stray memory floated into Kelly’s mind. Dr. Norcross had heard a truck engine and got up in the middle of the night to investigate. But there was someone else who was awake in the middle of the night. Burt said Edie told police she awoke at night to see Greta standing in the cabin doorway. She’d asked Greta what she was doing, and Greta said she’d heard a noise outside.
Kelly’s thoughts began to race once more as another scenario formed in her mind.
What if Greta was lying? What if she had just come from confronting Cal Everett? Did she slip through the dark to find a drunken Cal Everett on the deck? Did she deliberately push Cal over the railing? Or, maybe . . . maybe she simply slipped up behind the drunken Everett and helped him over the rail.
Was that why Greta had been acting so depressed and agitated these last few weeks? She wasn’t grieving over her sister again. She’d killed a man.
Kelly forced her thoughts to slow and let that scenario play in front of her eyes again, looking for things that didn’t make sense. Was that possible? There had to be some reason Greta was seeing her therapist several times a week. Something was bothering her. They’d all assumed it was a return of guilt about her sister’s suicide. Maybe this time, Greta’s guilt was her own.
There was another question Kelly had to ask, but she had to work around it first.
“I was told that Dr. Norcross heard a truck engine in the middle of the night and got up to check it out. Apparently she saw Everett and that rancher Bill what’s-his-name in the barnyard. Did you or Greta hear anything that night? It sounds like police are looking at this rancher guy more closely.”
“Really?” Edie asked, glancing up. “Well, I didn’t hear any truck engine but I think Greta heard something. I woke up and saw her standing in the open doorway. I’m a light sleeper, and I heard the door opening. So, I turned on the lamp beside the bed and saw her in the doorway, looking out.”
Kelly paused before asking her next question. “Do you remember if Greta was wearing her clothes or was she in her pajamas?”
Edie peered at Kelly. “Hmmmm, that’s a weird question.”
“I was just wondering if she’d gotten up to investigate the noise.”
Edie closed her eyes, as if remembering. “You know, I think she was dressed. Yeah, she was wearing that green Colorado State University sweatshirt.”
Kelly’s heart skipped a beat. “Interesting. Did she say anything else?”
“No, only that she’d heard a noise.”
Her mind racing a mile a minute now, Kelly glanced at her watch. She needed to call Lisa. Gathering up the knitted vest, Kelly shoved it into her bag and rose to leave.
“Whoa, sorry, Edie, I just remembered a client call I’ve gotta make before ten this morning. So, I have to run. Your gauge swatch looks fine to me. Check it with the ruler on the table, and you’ll be good to go.”
“Great, thanks, Kelly,” Edie said as she put her swatch on the table.
“Take it easy,” Kelly called as she raced from the room. Digging out her cell phone as she sped to Lambspun’s front door, she punched in Lisa’s number, hoping to catch her between appointments and classes.
“Whoa, am I glad I caught you,” she said when Lisa answered.
“You sound excited.”
“Excited isn’t exactly the word, but my instincts are on hyperdrive, and my little warning buzzers are ringing like mad.”
“What’s up?”
Kelly took a deep breath and launched in. “I just finished talking with Edie here at the shop. She was Greta’s roommate at the retreat. Remember, she said Greta woke her up in the middle of Saturday night standing at the cabin doorway.”
“Yeeeaaah . . .” Lisa replied in a careful tone.
“Well, she went on to say that she and Greta had a sharing session that Friday night after the campfire. And Greta revealed that her sister Bonnie was raped.” Kelly paused for Lisa’s reaction.
Lisa sucked in her breath. “No!”
“Oh, yes. That’s got to be why Bonnie committed suicide. And, that’s why that weekend was so traumatic for Greta.”
“Oh, my God, yes! Poor Greta.”
“Well, it gets more complicated. Edie repeated Greta’s account of her sister’s assault. Apparently a guy followed Bonnie home after meeting her in a bar in Fort Connor. Told her she’d left something at the bar, then forced his way in and raped her.”
Kelly heard Lisa’s slow intake of breath.
“She even said ‘just like Jennifer.’ ” Kelly paused.
“Oh, no . . .”
“Yes. I think Greta heard Jen’s story and put two and two together and came up with Cal Everett.”
Lisa paused again. “Kelly . . . you can’t be thinking—”
“You bet I am. Edie even told me Greta was dressed in her clothes in the middle of the night. That was after they had gone to bed earlier.”
“Oh, yes. I think Greta decided to confront Cal Everett Saturday night after everyone was asleep. Edie told me Greta said she wanted to ‘hold the man accountable’ who attacked her sister and tell him he caused Bonnie’s death.”
“Oh, God, she didn’t . . .”
“I think she did, Lisa. As soon as I heard what Edie said, it started to make sense. Greta’s been agitated and withdrawn ever since the retreat. We thought it was a recurrence of her depression over her sister’s suicide, but I think it was the enormous guilt over her own actions.”
“Kelly, you can’t be serious!” Lisa protested. “Greta couldn’t kill anyone. Not even Cal Everett.”
“I’m not saying she did it on purpose. I think she went to confront him like she’d obviously pictured doing, and things got out of hand. Maybe they had a fight. Maybe she got mad and pushed him out of anger. He was so drunk, it wouldn’t take much for him to fall over the rail.”
“Kelly, I don’t think Greta could do that . . .”
“Lisa, accidents happen all the time. And look at Greta. She’s obviously wrestling with some enormous problem, right?”
“Right.”
“Accidentally causing someone’s death would cause a huge burden of guilt, don’t you think?”
“God, yes.”
“Well, that’s what I think Greta’s grappling with now. And I think we can help her. We need to talk to her as soon as possible. Today, if we can.”
“Oh, Kelly . . . I don’t know if we should.”
“Lisa, I sense she’s desperately calling out for help with these behaviors of hers. Wouldn’t you rather we talk to her first and see if she’ll open up and tell us what happened? Because the police are going to question her anyway. I mean, now that I’ve heard what Edie said, I have to tell Detective Peterson. I can’t conceal information. You know that.”
“I know, I know, I’m just not sure. Even if Greta did go out to confront Everett, maybe that’s all she did. Maybe she said her piece, and he was so drunk he couldn’t even talk straight. Maybe he simply sat and stared at her, and nothing happened.”
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