It was seven-thirty when Ann Middleton pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine. It wasn’t until she reached for the door handle that she noticed the light on the front porch wasn’t lit, making her wonder if she’d forgotten to turn it on before she and Amy had left for Smithtown earlier that morning.
“Do your remember if I turned on the porch light before we left?” she asked, turning to Amy.
Amy, still half-asleep from the drive, replied, “Yes, you did, Mother.”
“I wonder why it isn’t on now.”
“Maybe it’s just burned out,” Amy suggested sleepily.
“Maybe…”
Ann opened the door and got out. Amy followed suit and walked sluggishly around the car to join her mother.
“I wish they’d fix that damn streetlight,” Ann groaned as they walked cautiously up the walk in the darkness. “Watch your step, honey.”
Ann held onto the porch railing as she led the way up the four steps leading to the porch of the modest Cape Cod. She opened the storm door, groped around until she finally managed to get the key into the lock, and freed the dead bolt.
In the dim light afforded by a nightlight plugged into the wall at the far end of the room Ann located the switch and turned the living room lights on. She noticed that the other switch, the one that worked the porch light, was up, confirming that she had indeed turned it on. She waited until Amy was inside then stepped back out onto the porch and reached up to unscrew the bulb in the fixture. Noticing that it was already practically screwed all the way out of its socket, she tightened it up instead. It came on.
“That’s strange,” Ann muttered to herself.
“What’s that, Mom?” Amy asked from inside.
“This stupid light-it wasn’t burned out. It was just loose in the socket.”
Amy peered out through the door. “Maybe the boogie man did it!” she giggled.
“That’s not funny!” Ann scolded, shooing her back inside.
“Just kidding, Mom,” Amy chuckled, and made a beeline for the stairs leading to the second floor.
Ann strode through the living room to the kitchen, removed her coat and flung it over the back of a chair. Mandy, their three-year-old calico cat, suddenly emerged from the laundry room and squinted up at Ann with that unmistakable look that said it was well past feeding time. Ann reached down and petted her before going over to the cupboard to get the Meow Mix.
Even though they had stopped off at a Shoney’s near Chillicothe for supper on the way home, Ann realized that she still felt hungry. Deciding that it was probably due to the stress and emotions of the day, she went over to the refrigerator and took out a container of yogurt, got a spoon and dug in.
Amy suddenly waltzed into the kitchen. “I’m going to the movies with Amanda.”
Ann swallowed a spoonful of yogurt and stared at her daughter reproachfully. “What have I told you about asking first, young lady?”
Amy pouted before replying. “Okay, Mom. Can I please go to the movies with Amanda?”
Ann tried to hide her disappointment. She had hoped that Amy would stay home with her tonight-she didn’t want to be alone after today. But Ann knew that they would only get into an argument if she objected, and that was the last thing she needed right now. “Okay, honey,” she sighed. “Do you need a ride?”
“No, Amanda’s mom is picking me up in half an hour. I’m going to take a quick shower and change first.”
“Back by ten,” Ann warned.
“Mother! The movie doesn’t even start until eight-thirty!”
Ann shook her head in resignation and said, “All right. But I want you to come straight home when it’s over. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you,” Amy whined. She shrugged her shoulders and made a face before storming out of the kitchen.
Ann was hurt and angry at Amy’s lack of consideration. Her daughter had to know that she was overwrought from the memorial service but Amy’s social life apparently took precedent over her mother’s emotions. For what had to be the hundredth time since she and Amy had moved to Columbus, Ann wished that Sam was there to help her get a handle on their daughter. She was starting to doubt that she could ever do it alone.
With a sigh, Ann finished her yogurt and decided to give Karen a call. Maybe her friend could help cheer her up a bit. She went over to the phone and dialed Karen’s number.
“Karen, it’s me. What are you up to?”
“Hi, Ann. Just sitting here waiting for Bill. How did it go today?”
“Horrible,” Ann replied. God, Karen, this is awful. I just can’t believe she’s gone!”
“I feel so sad for you, Ann. I know how much she meant to you. All I can say is that she’s gone to a much better place,” Karen declared compassionately.
“I guess so.”
“How was her husband?”
“Devastated. Cried like a baby through the whole service. I really feel sorry for him. And poor little Tommy. He wasn’t even there.”
“The poor child. Has he spoken to anyone yet?” Karen inquired.
“No, and Sam informed me that he’s practically having to be force-fed, too. It’s just awful… He won’t even speak to Dave! God only knows what that poor little boy must have gone through that night.”
“I shudder to think. Have the police gotten any more leads on who might have done it? They mentioned it again on the six o’clock news, by the way, but they didn’t give any details. They just said that the investigation is still under way.”
“No. Sam’s friend, Roger Hagstrom, the detective who’s in charge of the case, told Sam that nothing new has turned up. Apparently, they’ve done about all they can until they can interrogate Tommy. And that could be a long time, according to Roger.”
“In the meantime, there’s a psycho killer on the prowl,” Karen said.
“It’s frightening, isn’t it? I told Sam that I hope they hang him by the balls when they finally catch him.”
Karen chuckled. “You sure have a way with words, Ann.”
“It just infuriates me! Marsha was the nicest, most decent woman you could ever know. And for some crazy bastard to do that to her just makes me want to go out and find the monster myself and make him suffer.”
“I don’t blame you one bit. Not to change the subject, but how is your ex doing? Did you two get along?”
“I have to admit that I couldn’t have made it through all of this without Sam. For a while I almost forgot we were divorced, in fact. Sam’s basically a good man, and he’s always been at his best during a crisis.”
“You miss him?” Karen asked.
Ann sighed and paused a moment before answering. “Well, yes and no. I miss the stability of having Sam around more than I miss the man himself. And Amy… Christ! She’s turning into a regular delinquent! I know for a fact that she drinks because I’ve smelled alcohol on her breath a couple of times. And she’s smoking cigarettes now-I don’t think I told you about that yet. Found a pack stashed under her dresser yesterday. She’s become incorrigible, Karen. She hardly ever minds me anymore. I know that the divorce has a lot to do with it-she still resents it-and she blames me for it ever happening. She wants Sam and I to get back together; that I know for sure. This is so difficult, Karen…” she added, her voice wavering.
“C’mon, dear, pull yourself together. You’ll get through all of this. You just need to get your mind off everything for a while. You’ve been through an awful lot lately, but things will look up. As for Amy, I’m sure she’ll come around eventually. Just give her some time. Part of her problem has to do with her age, bear in mind. I sure wouldn’t want to be that age again! Remember how tough it was? Teenagers are in their own little world and tend to shut everyone else out of it. But Amy’s a good kid. She’ll come around-you can count on it.”
“I wish I were as optimistic as you are, Karen. As usual, you’re probably right-I only hope I don’t have a nervous breakdown in the meantime. There are just so many things going on that I feel out of touch with. Like Amy’s choice of friends at school, for instance. They all seem okay, but what do I know? We’ve only been in Columbus for three months and I still hardly know a soul in this neighborhood. And I’ve only met one of Amy’s friend’s parents so far-Amanda Givens. Her mother’s divorced and seems to be a nice enough gal, but her home is apparently the big hangout for all of Amanda’s friends. How do I know that she’s keeping an eye on things when all those teenage girls are congregating there?”
“Ann, you worry too much! Woodcrest is one of the best suburbs in Columbus and has an excellent high school. Amy’s in good company, believe me. Speaking of which, how’s her schoolwork coming along?”
“Lousy,” Ann replied flatly. “And it’s no wonder. She hardly ever does her homework.”
“Well, all I can say is give her time. She just needs to adjust to everything.”
“Thanks for the encouragement, Karen. I need all I can get right now.”
“No problem, dear-I think I just heard Bill pull up. We’re taking in a movie tonight. I sure wish you’d hurry up and find a man so we can double sometime!”
Ann laughed. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet, Karen. I’ve got enough problems as it is.”
“Well, you should still keep your eyes open anyway. It may be just what you need now-a relationship of some kind. It would help get your mind off your troubles.”
“I doubt it. I don’t think I’d be very good company to anyone right now,” Ann lamented.
“Nonsense! I can see that you need an ego-boost, dear. Trust me, any man in this town would kill to go out with you! If I looked just half as good as you do, I could be taking my pick of eligible bachelors!”
Ann laughed again. “You’re too much, Karen! But in spite of your tendency to exaggerate, I’ll take the compliment anyway. At least you’ve managed to make me smile.”
“Come on in, honey,” she heard Karen say. “Ann, Bill’s here. I want you to think about what I said and cheer up! Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Thanks, Karen. If I don’t talk to you tomorrow, I’ll see you at the office Monday.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow and check in,” Karen asserted. “Take care of yourself, Ann.”
“I will, Karen. Tell Bill I said hello, and you guys have a good time tonight.”
“Thanks, dear. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Ann hung up the phone feeling grateful for having a friend like Karen. She always had that knack for making her laugh, she thought to herself.
Karen Walker was office manager at the travel agency where Ann worked. She was fifty years old, divorced, with two kids who were all grown up and married. And although she might look her age physically, she possessed a lighthearted attitude toward life that made her seem years younger. When Ann was introduced to Karen on her first day at the agency, the two hit it off immediately and had become best friends from then on.
Bill Warner was Karen’s boyfriend-mid-fifties, balding, and worshipped the very ground Karen walked on. They had been dating for over five years and Ann often wondered why they didn’t simply get married after all this time. Karen’s explanation was that she’d “already made that mistake once,” and insisted that she was quite content with their relationship the way it was. Ann had the feeling, however, that Bill wasn’t in total agreement with Karen, and would gladly marry her at the drop of a hat.
Ann stared blankly at the kitchen table as her thoughts shifted to Marsha. She felt a tear come to her eye as the stark reality of her death hit home once again. Already she missed her lifelong friend, and she knew that life would never be the same without Marsha Bradley in it. Before moving to Columbus, Marsha had been her confidante and sounding board during the divorce, always there to comfort and support her. Marsha had in fact been one of the few reasons she had been hesitant to move out of Smithtown after the divorce. Perhaps had she not moved away, Marsha might still be alive today…
Ann held her head in her hands and shut her eyes. She suddenly felt very alone, living in a strange new city in unfamiliar surroundings. Had she done the right thing? Would she have been better off forgiving Sam for what he’d done and staying with him, instead of stirring everything up as she had? The after-effects of the divorce had so far been anything but auspicious. Nobody was happy. Not Sam, not herself, and certainly not Amy.
And now, Marsha Bradley was dead.
Was somebody trying to tell her that she’d made a mistake?
The sound of the squeaky hot water faucet coming from the bathroom reminded her that Amy was going out tonight and that she’d be left alone in the house for the rest of the evening. She had never really gotten used to not having Sam around since the divorce-especially at night-and she had been even more apprehensive about it since moving to Columbus. Even though Woodcrest was supposedly a “safe neighborhood” as suburban neighborhoods go, it didn’t make Ann feel any more secure. The porch light suddenly crossed her mind and she wondered how the bulb could have gotten unscrewed so far. Could the wind have done it? she wondered. Certainly not! Maybe it had been loose all this time, barely making contact, and had just happened to back itself out far enough to go out while she and Amy were gone. Yes, she decided, that’s probably what had happened.
Just then, Ann heard a rustling noise outside, coming from the back yard. She stood up and ran over to the window and peered out. The yard was pitch dark and she recalled that the floodlight mounted on the roof had never worked right since they’d moved in. Ann had attempted to replace the bulb herself but it was too high up for her to reach, so she had called the landlord and asked him to do it for her. Mr. Ogilvy had come over the next day with his ladder and a new bulb, and having finished replacing the old one, had informed her that there was a short in the wiring and that he had gone ahead and repaired it. Since then the light had worked sporadically, going off and on randomly, as if it had a mind of its own. Ann hadn’t yet taken the time to call Mr. Ogilvy back to tell him that it still wasn’t working right.
She would call him first thing in the morning, she decided.
Ann’s eyes adjusted somewhat to the darkness as she looked around the yard as far as she could see from her vantage point. Finally, a couple of moments later, she felt assured that there weren’t any intruders outside. Probably a raccoon or opossum, she thought to herself.
Ann realized that her heart was racing now and she looked down at her hands to find that they were trembling. She smiled wryly, telling herself that she was letting her imagination get the best of her. She simply had to try and get her mind off of everything, she resolved. Maybe get into a good book after Amy left.
Ann turned around and strode out of the kitchen. She paused outside the bathroom and opened the door a few inches. “Save me some hot water, kiddo!” she shouted into the steamy bathroom.
“Okay!” Amy hollered back from the tub.
Ann closed the door, went upstairs and peeked into Amy’s bedroom. It was a mess as usual, but she had hoped that it would have lasted longer than this. She’d helped Amy tidy up only yesterday and it already looked like a tornado had blown through it. With a sigh, she crossed the hall to her own room and entered.
As she sat down on the side of the bed to take off her shoes, Ann looked around the room and felt grateful that she and Amy had been fortunate enough to rent this house, as opposed to having to live in an apartment. She had Sam to thank for that. When she had informed him that she and Amy were moving to Columbus, he had been predictably shocked and angry with her. He had fumed that it wasn’t fair of her to move his daughter out of town, and accused Ann of making an already bad situation even worse. This had made her feel guilty, but she explained to him that she couldn’t bear to live in Smithtown any longer, and asserted that she wanted someday to return to college and get her law degree. Furthermore, she needed to get Amy and herself settled in before school started in the fall so Amy could get herself adjusted.
Sam had reluctantly given in and wanted to know where she intended to live. Ann had replied that they would get an apartment and Sam had immediately objected, insisting that they at least try and find a house to rent because apartments weren’t safe. Sam had subsequently made a few calls to some friends he knew living in Columbus and one of them had tipped him off about this house in Woodcrest. Sam had even driven up with Ann and Amy to check it out and had ended up paying the first month’s security deposit as well.
The house was perfect, all things considered. The rent was reasonable and it was roomy for its size. Ann particularly liked the family room that had been added on to the rear of the house, complete with a working fireplace and a bar.
Sam was a good man, in spite of his faults, she thought to herself The image of seeing him emerging from that bitch’s apartment, arm-in-arm, flashed through her mind and made her teeth clench. She would never be able to forget that look on Sam’s face when he had spotted her parked across the street, watching them…
Sam had supposedly been working late at the Observer that night. He’d called Ann at around dinnertime and told her that he was running behind on an article he was writing, and that he had to finish it up that evening so it could go to press in the morning. It wouldn’t take more than a couple of hours, he’d said, and he told Ann to go ahead and eat dinner without him. She had immediately suspected foul play, because Sam had rarely stayed late at work in the many years they’d been married. He had always preferred bringing his work home to finish because, as Sam put it, he would “rather be at home with his family than cooped-up in that fuckin’ office.”
Besides this break from the usual, Sam’s tone of voice had sounded different that evening, a little more distant than usual, as if he was already feeling guilty for what he was scheming to do. Ann’s suspicions mounted when Sam had called her the second time, at around nine o’clock. He was a little drunk, Ann suspected, when he told her that the article was taking longer than he’d anticipated and that he needed another hour or so. Ann had managed to remain calm though, telling Sam not to worry, that she fully understood.
There had been a few rumors going around town at the time that Sam had taken a sudden interest in a certain young woman whom the paper had recently hired as an apprentice photojournalist. Her name was Shelley Hatcher. She was around twenty years old and fairly new in town; having recently moved to Smithtown from somewhere in Kentucky. Apparently, Sam had taken Shelley under his wing since he himself was an accomplished photographer, and in fact, always shot his own pictures for his articles in the newspaper.
Ann had a funny hunch what was happening, so she had made a quick phone call to one of her friends who once mentioned that she knew where this Shelley woman lived. Apparently Shelley had had a few wild parties at her apartment and Ann’s friend, who lived nearby, had twice seen the cops come to break them up because of complaints about the noise. Ann got Shelley’s address from her friend, trying her hardest not to arouse her suspicions yet knowing all the while that she wasn’t fooling her for a second.
Ann had then hopped into her car and drove by the Observer to see if Sam’s Jeep was in the parking lot. Just as she suspected, it wasn’t. She drove to the address her friend had given her, which turned out to be a small apartment complex on the other end of town. And sure enough, the Jeep was parked out front.
Ann had parked across the street and waited for nearly an hour before Sam suddenly came out the door with Shelley Hatcher hanging all over him. The slut had just planted a big kiss on Sam’s cheek when he glanced across the street and spotted her. He had immediately broken away from Shelley and run over to the car to beg Ann’s forgiveness. He knew he’d been caught, and hadn’t even tried to lie his way out of it…
Ann took off her other shoe, then went over to the dresser and picked up the family portrait. She stared at Sam’s tall, slender frame, his long, unruly hair and his soft gray eyes. His expression was calm, content. She and Sam both had their arms around Amy and the three of them looked like one happy, loving family. Even Amy looked content and at ease, in contrast to her present demeanor; smiling and full of love for her mother and father. Ann’s eyes traveled over to her own image and smiled pensively, recalling how long it had taken to get her hair to look that good…
She quickly set the picture down and felt a stab of sadness. A family once so full of love and togetherness was no more. She could still recall how hurt and angry she had been when she’d caught Sam cheating on her, and how old and obsolete she’d suddenly felt when she saw Shelley Hatcher for the first time that awful night. Ann no longer felt wanted; her husband no longer found her desirable. That’s what had gone through her mind. Sam had risked everything just to sleep with a younger, more attractive woman, and she knew that she could never make love to him again knowing that.
Ann had filed for divorce the following day.
Word spread quickly about the incident and the public humiliation had been unbearable. Once it got out that Ann wanted a divorce, it seemed as though everyone in town started looking at her differently-as if she was the wrongdoer, not Sam. Everyone except Marsha, that is. Marsha liked Sam as much as the rest of the town did, but Marsha also knew how proud her friend was and how much it had hurt her to see her husband with another woman. Marsha encouraged her to go through with the divorce and supported her all the way to the end.
Amy, on the other hand, had mixed feelings at the time. She knew that what her father had done was wrong but at the same time didn’t want to see her parents split up. It had been especially hard for her the day that Sam had packed his bags and moved in with Roger. Their house had suddenly become a broken home.
Ann had to admit that she’d actually felt sorry for Sam by the time the divorce had been finalized. He was really hurt and it showed, yet he had still managed to be a gentleman throughout the whole thing. He’d tried his hardest to make it as painless as he could, just for Amy’s sake. When the papers were being signed, Ann had almost gotten cold feet and backed out at the last second. But she hadn’t.
Once it was all over, Ann knew that she had to get out of Smithtown. She had suddenly felt like she was living in a fish bowl and that everyone hated her for what she’d done. She wanted to leave town as soon as possible, to get away from the narrow minds and to get on with her life. To start anew with a clean slate. Columbus seemed to be the most obvious destination. It wasn’t far away, but far enough…
Ann heard Amy coming up the stairs and attempted to compose herself. Moments later she went across the hall to her daughter’s bedroom. Amy was rifling through her drawers when Ann entered.
“Do you know where my navy blue sweater is, Mom?” she asked.
“I think it’s hanging in your closet, honey,” Ann replied. “It’s a wonder you can find anything in this room!” she added, staring aghast at the piles of clothes thrown all over the floor and on the bed.
Amy ignored her comment and went over to the closet.
“What movie are you going to see?” Ann asked curiously.
“Not sure yet. Probably the new Christian Slater one. I can’t remember the name of it.”
“Isn’t that rated R?” Ann asked. She knew that it was. She’d seen a preview for it on television the other day.
Amy found the sweater and glanced over at her mother, a smirk on her face. “Yeah, but we’ll get in.”
Ann wanted to protest but didn’t. She stood and watched Amy as she flung the sweater on the bed and took off her robe; in awe of how quickly her little daughter was growing up. The freckles on her fair skin were barely noticeable now. The baby fat was gone and her breasts were nearly as large and full as her own. Amy’s proportions had become more defined as well. Longish legs, tiny waist, slender hips. And the cherubic face had suddenly taken on a young woman’s countenance-high cheekbones, full lips, aquiline nose and haunting green eyes, all framed by a thick, luxurious mane of auburn hair.
Amy sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on a pair of faded blue jeans that fit so tight they looked as though they were painted on. She stood up again, put on a cream-colored knit blouse then the sweater.
“Have you met any interesting boys at school yet?” Ann asked as Amy slipped into a pair of loafers.
“A few,” she mumbled, feigning disinterest.
“Don’t you have a school dance coming up soon?”
“Homecoming.”
“Are you going?” Ann inquired.
“Don’t know, yet. Doubt it, though,” she replied.
“How come?”
“No one goes to school dances at Woodcrest, I’ve heard. Just nerds and cheerleaders.”
“That’s odd,” Ann said. “Everyone went to school dances when I was your age. In fact, the ‘nerds’ were usually the ones who didn’t go,” she added.
Amy stepped over to the vanity and started putting on her makeup. “That was eons ago, Mom.”
“Thanks a lot!”
“Just kidding!” Amy chided. “Anyway, this isn’t Smithtown. Kids are a lot cooler up here.”
Ann wondered what constituted coolness… drugs and sex? She shuddered at the thought. “So what do you think of the high school now that you’ve had a chance to settle in?”
Amy carefully applied her eyeliner. “It’s awfully big, that’s for sure. I think I’ll like it better when I’m no longer a freshman.” She spoke the last word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.
Ann asked, “Are the upper classmates giving you a hard time?”
“Some of them. There’s a lot of snobs at Woodcrest, I’ve noticed.”
“There are snobs everywhere, honey,” Ann declared.
Amy reached for the blow dryer and said, “Maybe. But there are a lot of rich snobs at Woodcrest. There’s a difference, you know.”
With that, Amy switched on the hair dryer and Ann realized that their little chat was over. She returned to her own bedroom, slipped out of the uncomfortable black dress she was wearing, put on her robe and slipped into her house slippers before going downstairs to the bathroom. Ann turned on the water for her bath and was sampling the temperature when she heard a horn honking out front. She ran out to the living room window and parted the curtains to find Amanda’s mother’s car pulled up in the driveway. After making a gesture with her hand, Ann ran upstairs to alert Amy that her friend had arrived.
“Shit!” Amy hissed as she turned off the hairdryer. “She’s early!”
Ann ignored the profanity-she’d almost gotten used to it by now. “Do you want me to ask them to come inside to wait until you’re ready?”
“No, I’m as ready as I’m going to be. I hate my fucking hair!”
Ann cringed at the sound of the “f” word coming from her daughter’s lips. This time she wasn’t going to excuse it. “You’d better start watching your mouth, young lady! Do you realize how vulgar that sounds?”
Amy glared at Ann defiantly. “Come on, Mother! You say it all the time!”
“That doesn’t give you the right to, though. Not in my house!”
Amy held her mother’s stare and spurted, “Oh, Mom-get a life!” She stormed out of the room.
Ann wanted to chase after her and give her a good piece of her mind but stopped herself. She knew they’d only get in a fight, and Ann wasn’t in the mood for it. When she heard the front door creak open, she hurried down the stairs just as Amy was halfway out the door.
“Come home right after the movie, Amy!” she yelled after her.
The door slammed shut.
Sometimes, I’d like to crown that little brat, Ann thought. With a long sigh, she went back to the bathroom and closed the door.
After her bath, Ann threw on an old faded Ohio State sweatshirt and a pair of sweat pants before retreating to the family room. After turning on the television, she went over to the bar and took out an opened bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. After pouring herself a glass, she plopped down on the sofa.
She sipped her wine and glanced over at the television-yet another new sit-com was premiering on the channel she was watching. She set the wine glass down on the coffee table and reached for the paperback she had started reading a couple of days ago. It was a true story about a young girl in Omaha, Nebraska who had been abducted then murdered by a deranged serial killer and previously convicted child molester. Deciding that the subject matter was hardly what she felt like delving into at the moment, Ann picked up the other three books lying on the table and scanned the titles. She finally opted for a romance novel that Amy had no doubt bought but never finished reading then settled back in the sofa and turned to the first chapter.
Ann was halfway through the third chapter when she thought she heard a scraping sound outside. She shot a glance toward one of the two windows that faced the backyard and listened for a moment but heard nothing more. Feeling her pulse quickening, she pressed the television mute button on the remote control and listened again. Nothing. She was just about to switch the sound back on when she heard the noise again, this time coming from the direction of the other window. In an instant, she sprung up and ran over to the window to look out. The reflection of the room lights in the glass made it difficult to see beyond it so she cupped her hands against the windowpane to blot out the ambient light and squinted her eyes.
At first she couldn’t see anything except light coming from the bathroom window, realizing now that she had forgotten to turn it off. Both the bathroom and family room faced the backyard and were adjacent to one another, the family room jutting out further into the yard where it had been added on to the rest of the house. She felt her heart thumping rapidly in her chest as she stared out into the darkness and waited for her eyes to adjust. From this vantage point she could see the entire backyard, including the white picket fence that surrounded it and formed the boundary with her neighbors’ houses on either side. She stood there for a couple of minutes, surveying the yard in the dim light coming from the bathroom window. After she eyed the gate located at the far end of the house near the backdoor and saw that it was closed and presumably locked, she finally stepped back from the window and breathed a sigh of relief.
This is crazy! she thought. For the second time that night she thought she’d heard something out back, and both times had been false alarms. Why was she being so paranoid? she wondered. Stress? Or was she letting herself get all worked up over Marsha’s murder? A murder that happened a week ago and over a hundred miles away I need a cigarette!
She fled the family room and went into the kitchen to find her purse, which was lying on the counter. She opened it up and was searching frantically inside for her cigarettes when it suddenly dawned on her that she’d made a point of throwing every pack she owned into the trash when she had decided to quit smoking a couple of weeks ago. Cursing herself, she debated whether or not to throw on a coat and drive to the convenient mart to buy a pack. Then she recalled the pack she’d found hidden under Amy’s dresser. She had stashed Amy’s cigarettes in her own dresser as “evidence,” but hadn’t yet confronted her.
Totally disregarding the fact that she was about to break her vow never to smoke again, Ann ran up the stairs to her bedroom and over to the dresser. She opened the top drawer and found them neatly tucked away under her stockings. Snatching up the opened pack of Marlboro Lights like an addict about to give herself a fix, she slammed the drawer shut and ran back downstairs to the family room.
With quivering hands, Ann lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply, the smoke feeling much harsher in her lungs than her regular brand. Her nerves were frayed to a frazzle, she realized, from the effects of the tumultuous, emotional week, compounded by her sudden grim outlook for the future. A couple of weeks ago she had actually started feeling like she was at last adjusting to her new life as a transplanted divorcee, but Marsha’s untimely death had thrown everything back into turmoil and brought all her doubts to the surface once again.
And now, to top off everything else, she was alone in this house and starting to hear things.
Ann took another drag, retrieved her wine and sipped. She needed to calm her nerves; to try and relax, get a hold of herself. Nothing has really changed, had it? she thought. Her best friend has just been brutally raped and murdered by an unknown assailant, and she was shocked and devastated by this, but as Sam had told her: life goes on. She had to come to grips with her loss, accept it, and let the healing process begin. Marsha’s death had absolutely nothing to do with the present-her insecurity of being alone and on her own, her concern over Amy’s incorrigible and frightening behavior, her doubts about whether she’d done the right thing in divorcing Sam. So why was she so fucking edgy tonight?
Was she in fear for her own life? If so, then why should she be? She was probably safer than anyone in Smithtown was-Woodcrest was a hundred miles away and most likely the last place on earth the murderer would be right now…
Hysteria, Ann decided. That’s it. She, along with every other woman who knew about Marsha’s murder, was naturally going to feel a little temporary hysteria right now, if not at least a little threatened. It was a perfectly normal response, given the circumstances. There was a demented madman on the loose who had just raped and strangled a poor defenseless woman in her own home. No clues, no motives, and the only material witness is a five-year-old who is so traumatized that he can barely utter a single word. What woman wouldn’t be scared out of her wits?
Ann took another drink of wine and managed a weak smile. Amy would be home in a little while and she would feel like her normal self again. She stubbed out her cigarette, picked up the book and settled back in the sofa. Finding the place where she’d left off, Ann resumed reading and was soon totally absorbed in the developing plot. The heroine of the novel, who ironically had just been recently divorced herself and had a teenage child, no less, had just met a tall, dark stranger at the public library. As Ann read on, she started relating the heroine’s thoughts and actions to her own situation and before long decided that maybe Karen Walker was right after all. Maybe she needed to start seeing somebody and get her mind off her troubles…
She eventually learned that the heroine of the novel, like herself, occasionally caught herself longing for her ex-husband. But she refused to let this stand in the way of her new-found freedom and the fact that there were other men in the world; and that there was a very good chance that she might someday find a man she could love just as much as she had once loved her ex-maybe even more so. The heroine, however, was strong and independent, unlike herself, with a more open mind. Ann realized that she needed to start being just as strong and independent as the heroine; otherwise she could never hope to shrug off her past and find someone else to take Sam’s place.
The plot thickened, and during one of the more intense encounters between the heroine and the tall dark stranger, Ann found herself longing to be in her place; to be held in a stranger’s arms and doted on by someone who loved and respected her for who she was. This longing, along with the richly detailed rendering of the scene, actually made her feel vital and optimistic for a change… if not downright horny.
Ann became so engrossed in the romance novel that she lost all track of time. Then it suddenly dawned on her when the eleven o’clock news came on that Amy hadn’t come home yet.