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“He’s a fugitive from the law. He threatened a number of people, and he killed my sister.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Elizabeth was shocked. Ravinia hadn’t told her that.
“I believe he’s dead as well, but his body was never discovered, so his death was never confirmed. He’s listed as missing.”
Cold fear filled Elizabeth’s heart. Was it possible that everything Ravinia had said, including her dire warning about imminent danger to Elizabeth and Chloe, was the truth?
Elizabeth glanced out the window over the sink to the backyard where a bit of sun was peeking through the wintry clouds. Could unseen eyes, even now, be staring at her from some hiding place?
“Declan Jr.,” Elizabeth repeated, her fingers surrounding her cell phone in a death grip, panic causing her lungs to constrict as she repeated the name Ravinia had given her.
“Ravinia warned you about him. She still thinks he’s alive.”
Insides shredding, phone pressed to her ear, Elizabeth looked at her daughter who’d lost interest in her Cheerios and was twisted around, fumbling with the remote, trying to turn on her TV shows. Normally, Elizabeth refused to let her watch in the morning as it was such a rush to get her out of the door to preschool.
“If there’s any chance she’s right,” the detective said, “I’d advise you to avoid him and if you do see him, call nine-one-one immediately.”
“Yes. Thank you. I will.”
“Can you tell me what this is all about?”
“No, it’s nothing. Nothing specific. I just wanted to see how much I could believe of what Ravinia was saying. It was so outlandish, that I didn’t know what to think.”
“She can tell a tall tale now and again,” the detective said slowly. “But in the main, I think she believes what she’s telling you. Again, I would meet the women of Siren Song, if I were you.”
“Thank you . . . thank you for your time.” Elizabeth hung up. Quickly. Aware that she had really gotten more questions than answers.
Chloe had slid off her stool and was standing in front of the television, trying to find her channel. Sometimes she was capable, sometimes not.
“Chloe, brush your teeth and get dressed. I’ll help.”
“I can do it myself,” she insisted, dropping the remote onto the couch and running toward the bedroom wing.
Elizabeth heard drawers being opened and shut as she tasted the remains of her cold coffee. Making a face, she poured the rest down the sink, then looked over at her cell phone where she laid it on the counter. Slowly, she picked it up again. With Detective Dunbar’s confirmation about Siren Song, she was tempted to call Ravinia and get more information. Maybe even admit that she had her own gift, the foreshadowing of horrific events. Or, she could call Rex Kingston . . .
Nope. No. She set the phone back down on the counter and took a step back from it as if it were poisonous. Rattled, she picked up her empty cup and was pouring fresh coffee when the doorbell rang, startling her and causing her to slop hot coffee onto her hand. “Ouch!” She dropped the cup onto the counter, where it rolled drunkenly, spewing coffee in a spreading brown pool, over the edge of the counter and down her cabinet fronts. She grabbed up a dishtowel to mop up the mess as Chloe sang out, “I’ll get it,” and ran toward the door.
Elizabeth dropped the towel and saw Chloe streak by, naked except for her underpants.
“Oh, no you don’t!” She was able to grab one little arm with her free hand before Chloe reached the doorknob. “You don’t know who that is. We don’t answer the door until we know who it is, and we always wear our clothes.”
“You had your jammies on last night,” Chloe argued, jerking her arm free.
“Better than just undies. Now, go on. Scoot. Wear the red dress and tights.”
“I hate that dress,” Chloe said, throwing her mother an angry glare as she stomped back to her room.
Her hand still smarting where the coffee had burned it, Elizabeth peered through the peephole mounted into her front door. Shifting from one foot to the other, once again was Officer Maya. And she wasn’t alone, but the man with her wasn’t DeFazio, her original partner. This man was dressed in a rumpled suit and tie and his heavy face was grim and sober.
A detective, Elizabeth thought, and as she opened the door, she braced herself for what was clearly going to be a continuation of what had started out as a very bad day.
Chapter 30
It was obvious that Detective Maya thought Elizabeth had something to do with Detective Thronson’s death. And Maya wasn’t alone in her theory. Detective Driscoll, the middle-aged, grim-faced man with her, seemed in complete concurrence with the other officer.
Driscoll was starting to go bald and had a bit of a paunch, but, she suspected, he was still tough as nails. He didn’t bother combing what was left of his graying hair, and behind rimless glasses his light brown eyes had that I’ve seen it all look that said nothing she would say would shock him.
Elizabeth told herself she probably shouldn’t have let the cops in, but she hoped being forthcoming would convince them that she was totally innocent and that she had been nowhere near Bette Thronson’s home at the time of her murder. For God’s sake, she had no idea even where the woman lived, and she said as much to Driscoll and Maya as she led them to her kitchen, adding, “I’ve got to leave to take my daughter to school in twenty minutes.”
