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“How about any friends?”
“I don’t really have any, Rhett.”
I inhale, chiding myself. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, it’s just that every nurse who’s walked in here has asked me the same questions. Who can I call for you, darling?” She snorts a laugh that sounds like it hurts. “The only person I can think of is Ginger, my hairdresser.”
“Do you want me to call her?” I say, far too eagerly.
“No, I don’t want you to call myhairdresser.”
An awkward moment passes between us.
“Sylvia, do you—can you talk about it? About what happened?”
“Yes… I’ve already told the cops everything…” She folds her hands over her stomach as if settling in for a long talk. “They told me how you found the letter in the mailbox—my God, thank you.”
“Just good luck is all. Can you tell me what happened?”
She nods, begins. “It was the night we went to the abandoned house, the night we saw Dr. Harris Taylor doing… you know.”
“The neighbor, yeah. Did you tell the cops what we were doing there?”
“No, I didn’t tell them any of that. Just that I was at home when it all happened. They didn’t even ask how I’d spent the day and first half of the evening.”
Sloppy police work.
“So,” she continues, “after I dropped you off at the construction site, I went home. I was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of wine and heating up dinner, when out of nowhere, someone pulls a black bag over my head.”
This must have been the black pillowcase I noticed in the barn.
“How did they get in?” I ask.
“I’m sure I left the front door unlocked. I’m bad about leaving it unlocked until right before I go to bed.”
“That must change.”
“I know. Hey—how’s Shirley? She’s okay, right? The officer told me they saw her when they checked the house.”
“Yes, she’s fine.”
Sylvia exhales. “Good. Anyway, after they bagged my head, they shoved the barrel of a gun in my neck and tied my hands behind my back. Then I was dragged out the front door and into a car.”
“Did you scream?”
“Of course I screamed. I tried to fight but there’s not much you can do with your hands behind your back. I couldn’t even walk upright.”
“Did you see the person?”
“No.”
“Do you know if they were a man or woman?”
“They never spoke.”
“Not a single word?”
“Nope.” She begins smoothing the blanket in short repetitious strokes. “Anyway, they drove me out to the middle of nowhere—I could tell we were going into the woods from the bumpy road and the smell in the air. Then I was forced into the barn, gun at my back. I was connected to a rope, and that was it.”
