Part 39 (1/2)
h.e.l.lo, If you find this, it's almost certain that I'm dead. I'm so sorry, Gwyn, Linda, if you are still there to read this, for of course, I've made you suffer ... again.
If you don't know already, my plans were to jet off to Italy, then once aboard the plane, call the authorities and let them know about Craig, and poor David. Again, if it weren't for me, David might still be alive. He deserves a decent final resting place, and his family needs to know what happened to him. He's buried under the woodpile behind the garage. Craig put him there after he drugged, then stabbed him, the same thing I fear he will do to me. David made the mistake of falling for me, then trying to help me. He told me what Craig did to that girl in Texas, that Craig wasn't just threatening me, that he'd actually killed her. And he planned to do the same thing to me. All the Mexico talk was just c.r.a.p. He wants the money. That's all. Craig knew that David told me. The poor guy was so transparent.
Craig wasted no time, killed him that same night. I knew it would happen, and told David to take the cash I'd given him and get out, but he worried about me, and wouldn't leave. Just after dark, I heard something going on out beyond the house. I'd just come back from the gas station for some cigarettes. I could hear voices out there, so I snuck back to take a look. Craig was hunched over something on the ground. Then I saw David. Then Craig lifted up the b.l.o.o.d.y knife. It made me so sick. And I was scared. I knew it was already over, nothing I could do. I beat it out of there, didn't want Craig to know that I saw. I didn't come back to the house for hours. When I did, Craig was gone.
I searched around out beyond the house in the field, but couldn't find David. At first, I had this crazy idea that maybe he'd gotten away somehow, after Craig left. Then I looked over to the woodpile. It was messed up, rearranged. I knew that's where David was buried. I thought about calling the cops, but I knew Craig would try to involve me, say I was in on it. After all, I withdrew all that money and made fake IDs for both of us. It would look bad. And I don't want to go to jail.
Craig won't do anything to me until he has the money. I know that for sure. But he's not going to get it. I made duplicate sets of bags, real, and fake, with a little real cash up front in the fake ones, just in case he checks. By the time he figures out I've switched the bags and his ID, I'll be long gone.
Like I said though, if you find this letter, something went wrong. Funny, about Dad's secret room, huh? I found it one day while I was chasing after a mouse that ran behind the tool cabinet. I just pushed, and like in some dark tale of castles on the moor, I discovered his hideaway. Dad left the key on a shelf, deep in a corner, the combination along with it. Nothing was inside the safe though. Probably cleaned everything out before he died ... so like our father. But I used the safe to hide the money from Craig, knew he'd never find it there.
I love you. I know you love me too. No matter what happens, I want you to know I'm heartsick and sorry for all the trouble I've caused. I'm going to change. It's not too late. I hope you never find this letter, that instead I come back and open the safe myself, that by then I've bought a little villa in Italy, with vibrant pansies trailing from the window boxes, where I write my stories and flirt with the s.e.xy Italian men. Then we'll all go visit my place together, and be a family again, only better than before. I pray this happens. If not ... I promise I'll be waiting for you on the other side.
Your loving sister, Kelly
Chapter 26.
When I arrived at the old house, the street was lined with police cars. Crime scene tape and barricades surrounded the yard. Neighbors stood at a distance in talkative groups or milled around, trying to catch a glimpse of the newest police action on the block. I parked on an adjacent street and set out to look for Caroline, who was the first person I'd telephoned after I finished Kelly's letter. As I turned the corner and the house came into view, I saw Caroline at the edge of the crowd and yelled for her. She crossed the street and jogged toward me.
”Wow, what next?” she said, getting in step with me as we approached the throng of gawkers.
”Have they found out anything yet about this David guy?” I asked. ”I don't remember Kelly ever mentioning him, and I don't think his name ever came up during the police investigation.”
”According to Nate, the cops don't know who he is either, but they'll sure get busy trying to identify him. The medical examiner from the coroner's office is here, and he's been taking pictures and stuff for a while, doing whatever it is those guys do. They just pulled the body out of the ground a minute ago. Sheeez. Can't think there'd be much to look at after all this time. I sure don't want to look myself, even if they let me, which I'm sure they won't. Did you get a hold of Linda?”
”Yes, finally. But she's not coming. Can't blame her.”
”No, guess not.”
”And I found out something else,” I said.
”What?”
”Linda didn't throw out Kelly's journals after all. She still has them. She said she took them thinking Kelly might have written something about her affair with Wolfgang. Linda said she was only curious, wanted to find out what had been going on and for how long. But I think she was worried I would eventually look through them and blame Wolfgang for what happened to Kelly.”
”Yes, sounds about right.”
”Where's Nate?” I asked.
”Up with the rest of them. He wouldn't miss this for the world.”
I heard a rising swell of oohs as the crowd parted to allow the men hoisting the body bag access to the waiting coroner's van. They placed the body inside, slammed the doors. With an earsplitting shriek, police cars parted the crowd and slowly escorted the van out of the area.
The remaining cops began dispersing the crowd, which drifted farther back, but refused to leave entirely, instead morphing into smaller, quieter groups.
I was about to say something to Caroline, when a sudden blinding flash stopped me, followed by a series of camera clicks and flashes as other reporters followed suit. A large-eyed woman with wind-tousled hair stuck a microphone under my chin.
”Ms. Sanders, a few questions please. Did you know the victim personally? How did you get word the body was buried on your property? Is it true you received an anonymous tip from a friend of the deceased?”
Caroline stepped in front of me. ”Hey, leave her alone. She's not talking now. She doesn't know the guy. Doesn't know him at all.”
Now the reporters swarmed over Caroline. ”So the deceased is male? Can you give us a name? A name? How old was he? Can you give us any idea how long he's been buried here on the property? Did he know the accused, Craig Foster?”
”We don't know anything,” said Caroline. ”Now that's enough. Let us through.”
Nate noticed the commotion and hurried to our aid. ”Okay, back off, people. You'll get an official statement soon enough. Give the ladies some breathing room.” He ushered us forward toward the house. Camera flashes followed until we'd closed the door in their faces.
”Sorry about that,” Nate said. ”I should have warned you they'd be on you like dogs on a scent. It's amazing how fast they figure out who's who.”
”Whew,” said Caroline, ”don't think I'd like being famous all that much.”
He laughed. ”Are you two okay?”
”Yes,” I said.
”Sure,” said Caroline. ”You find out anything yet?”
”We have an idea about him, just need to confirm his ident.i.ty. He wasn't reported missing, a drifter mostly, but we're thinking Gwyn's sister will be correct as to the time of death and the details surrounding it. I'm guessing this guy may have known Craig a while before, then hooked up with him here in Glenwood.”
”Will Craig confess to it?” I asked.
”Possibly, if his lawyer thinks he can get something for his client. But don't worry. Whether Foster confesses to this one or not, once he's sentenced, he won't be going anywhere outside some very solid walls.”
Chapter 27.
I watched as Trevor came in the front door, finished with shoveling the morning's new load of snow from the porch. He stomped his snowy boots in the doorway.
”Trevor?”
”What?” He ambled over to me in socked feet. ”Did you say something?”
”I need to talk to you. It's kind of important.”
”Sure, hon, what is it?”
”Maybe you should sit down first.” I patted a spot next to me on the couch.
”Oh, don't like the sound of that.” He knitted his brows in question.
”First of all, let me say that I do love you, very much. I have from the beginning. I know you love me too, but I also know we've been having some problems. A lot of it's my fault. I do take responsibility for that. But not for everything.”