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“Is that Katrina Perry?” The voice sounded female, quiet and a little breathy. She was fairly sure it wasn’t Helen Jackson.
It certainly didn’t sound sinister, or like a cold caller trying to sell her a funeral plan, but Katrina wasn’t prepared to confirm her identity. Not yet.
“Who is this?”
“I overheard you when you came to the AAG ranch.” The voice had dropped to a whisper. “When you were asking about Eliza. I found your card and I’ve been trying to find the courage to call you.”
Tears stung the back of Katrina’s eyes. Was this it? Was this finally the breakthrough she’d been waiting for? Was she finally going to find out what had happened to her sister?
“Did you know Eliza?”
“Yes. Look, it’s hard for me to talk over the phone. I don’t know who could be listening.”
“I can meet you anywhere.” The groceries could wait. Who needed food, anyway?
“Mustang Park, by the slides. Half an hour.”
“Wait—”
The caller had gone before Katrina could ask who she was, or how she would know her. With a combination of dread and excitement churning inside her, she left the parking lot and headed toward the park.
She arrived at the kiddie playground with ten minutes to spare and sat on a bench. There was no one else around and she figured most of the children who frequented this area would be finishing dinner around this time. It was family time. Homework, TV, bath, story, bed. The usual, familiar routines. The things she and Eliza had missed out on, unless they did them for themselves. Their mom had been more focused on her own needs. Vodka, dive bar, heroin, new boyfriend.
When darkness fell, this part of the park changed. Teenagers came down here to drink and make out. There had been a campaign in the Mustang Valley Times to get the park gates locked at night, but it hadn’t gotten any momentum.
Maybe she should call someone. Suzie would bring the dogs over to help protect her. But that would mean explaining things to Suzie... Probably she should call Spencer. But he would take over, would try to talk her out of this meeting. She needed to hear what this mystery caller had to say about Eliza. That was the most important thing.
Lost in her thoughts, she gradually became aware that someone was watching her. A young woman clad in jeans and a lightweight sweater was standing across the other side of the slide area. She had dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her face pale, she appeared poised to run at any second.
Katrina got to her feet and walked toward her. “Hi. I’m Katrina Perry. Are you the person who called me?”
The other woman gulped, then nodded. “I’m Christie Foster.”
“Shall we sit down?” Katrina indicated the bench. Together they walked across the playground and sat down. “Thank you for meeting me, Christie.”
“I wanted to do it sooner. It’s just difficult, you know?”
“Can you explain why?” Katrina was concerned at the other woman’s manner. She reminded her of a bird, her jerky movements making her seem as though she was constantly ready for flight.
Christie ducked her head, then cast a quick glance around. “Because of what happened to Eliza. If anyone knew I was here, talking to you...” She pressed a hand to her lips. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Getting to her feet, she ran off in the direction of the park gates. Katrina started after her, calling out her name.
“Leave me alone!” Christie’s echoing cry was like that of a wounded animal.
Torn between the need to know more about her sister’s fate and Christie’s obvious distress, Katrina let her go. What had just happened here? Christie was the one who had called her, yet within minutes, she’d run off. Torn between annoyance, frustration and sympathy, she dug her hands into her pockets and bowed her head.
At least she had a name and the number from where Christie had called her. What the other woman had told her made it obvious that something bad had happened to Eliza. It was also clear that Christie feared the same fate.
First Helen. Now Christie. It must be enough for the police to investigate the AAG further.
By the time she reached her house, Katrina’s whole body was aching, as though tension had pulled every muscle a little too tight. She needed dinner—and since she hadn’t gotten any groceries, that meant takeout—a hot bath and a good night’s sleep. She got out of the car and stretched her arms above her head, then she headed toward the front steps. As she drew nearer, though, panic hit like a bucket of ice-cold water.
Her little house looked the same as ever, except for one key detail. The front door was hanging wide open, marks scarring its wooden surface as though someone had repeatedly kicked it. In the center, there was a white piece of paper, secured in place with tape. A message was scrawled on it in black felt pen.
From the yard, she could hear the sound of furious barking. Her mind registered that the dogs were angry but safe. With a pounding heart, she drew closer. Remaining poised to run, she read the words.
Stop poking your nose where it’s not wanted, or next time your dogs will get steaks with antifreeze for dinner.
