Kevin O'Brien - One Last Scream

There was another door in the kitchen, open about two inches. Beyond that, all Karen could see was darkness. She moved the door, and it creaked on the hinges. She froze. Was that the same sound she’d heard earlier?

She gazed at the wood-plank stairs leading down to the pitch-black basement. Turning to look for a light switch by the door, she saw something dart past the kitchen window. Karen gasped. For a moment, she was paralyzed. She didn’t know what to do. It had looked like a person, but she’d only caught a glimpse of her-or him. Whoever it was, they must have been outside, peeking in at her. And they’d moved away from that window so quickly, all Karen had seen was a human-shaped blur.

Clutching the revolver, Karen made her way toward the front door again. She kept checking the windows for whoever was outside the house, but didn’t see anybody. “Amelia?” she called. Karen edged toward the door, which she’d left open. She still had the gun poised. “Amelia, is that you? It’s Karen. Amelia?”

A dog started barking. “Who’s in there?” someone called from outside.

Karen looked out, and saw an older woman with close-cropped gray hair, glasses, and a bulky gray sweater. She had a collie on a leash. “Hush, Abby,” she whispered.

Karen quickly stashed the gun in her purse. “Are you Helene?”

Scowling at her, the old woman nodded. “Are you the one I talked to on the phone earlier?”

“Yes,” she said, catching her breath. “I’m Karen Carlisle, Amelia’s therapist.”

“Well, Amelia must have skedaddled,” Helene said. “No one’s in there. I checked a little while ago.”

Karen closed the door behind her. “You went in there after I warned you not to?”

Helene shrugged. “Why should I listen to you? I don’t even know you. Anyway, the place is empty.” She bent down and scratched her dog behind the ears. “I have no idea when she left. Like I told you on the phone, I saw only Amelia earlier, though it sure sounded like two people were here.”

Karen nodded. She was thinking about the double footprints on the dirt trail that led to the house. “Ms. Sumner, before today, when was the last time you noticed Amelia here?”

“Well, she and that boyfriend of hers were carrying on out by the lake a week ago Monday,” Helene answered, still hovering over her dog.

“The Monday before the shootings?” Karen asked. She was almost certain she’d had a therapy session with Amelia that Monday. “The fifteenth?”

Helene nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Helene nodded again emphatically. “Monday is my shopping day. When you get to be my age, and you live alone, different rituals become like your companion….”

Karen nodded. She knew exactly what the old woman meant, and it scared her a little that she was already becoming so set in her ways.

“So Monday afternoon, before I headed out to the store, I took Abby for a walk, and I saw Amelia and that creepy young man by the lake. The way they were carrying on, I think they might have been doing drugs.”

“What time was this?” Karen asked.

“Smack dab in the middle of the day, around one o’clock.”

Karen shook her head. It didn’t make sense. If she remembered correctly, her appointment with Amelia that Monday had been in the early afternoon. “Are you sure of the time?” she pressed. “Are you sure it was Amelia?”

Frowning, Helene stopped petting her dog and straightened up. “Miss, I may be old. But I’m not senile-not yet, at least.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m almost positive I was with Amelia, in Seattle, around that exact same time.”

Helene scowled at her. “Well, if you were with Amelia on that Monday afternoon, then who was that girl I saw by the lake?”

“Jessie, could you do me a huge favor?” Karen asked. She was in the phone booth by the entrance to Danny’s Diner. “Could you drive over to my place and check something out for me?”

“Now?”

“I know my timing stinks with rush hour about to start, but this is important.”

“Oh, I guess it’s no problem,” Jessie said. “Jody just got home from school. I’m supposed to pick up Steffie from daycare at four anyway. We’ll just keep driving. The kids can meet Rufus. So what do you want me to do over there?”

“I need you to take a look at my appointment book on my desk, and find out if I had a session with Amelia on Monday afternoon, October fifteenth.”

“That’s all? I don’t get to snoop through anything else of yours?”

“Sorry. I just need to confirm that I saw Amelia on that particular day.”

“Monday, the fifteenth,” Jessie repeated. “I’ll check it out, and give you a ring on your cell in about a half hour.”

“Um, cell phones don’t work around here for some reason. I’m in a phone booth. I’ll call you back.”

“Try me at your place in about a half hour. We ought to be there by then.”

“Okay. Thanks, Jessie. You’re the best.”

Karen hung up the phone for only a moment before picking up the receiver again. She punched in her American Express account, and then George’s cell phone number.

She caught him waiting for Annabelle Schlessinger’s high school teacher, who was busy coaching the cheerleading squad. Her name was Caroline Cadwell, and apparently she’d known the Schlessingers better than anyone else in Salem. “I was going to call you after I talked with her,” George told Karen. “So, where are you?”

Through the phone booth’s glass wall, Karen glanced at some patrons leaving the diner. “Oh, I’m out and about, running some errands.”

“In Central Washington?” he asked pointedly. “Karen, the area code on my caller ID shows 509. Are you anywhere near Lake Wenatchee?”

“I’m in the phone booth at Danny’s Diner,” Karen admitted. “And before you start in, I’ve already been to the lake house. Helene Sumner spotted Amelia there this morning. But the place is empty now. The important thing is-”

“I can’t believe you went there when you knew I didn’t want you to,” he interrupted. “Damn it, Karen. You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“Well, I didn’t,” she murmured. The fact that he actually cared touched her. “Anyway, I’m sorry, George.”

“Did you even call the police, like we discussed?” he asked. “And please, don’t lie again, because I can check.”

“Yes, I spoke to them. They still want to talk with Amelia about Koehler’s disappearance. I avoided the subject, but told them about her taking my car and the money. I also gave them a description of the car, the plate number, the whole shebang. So, Amelia is officially a fugitive, which scares the hell out of me.” She sighed. “Then again, I’m not doing so hot either. That’s one more reason I decided to get the hell out of town and come here. The police want to talk to me and advised I have my lawyer present. Anyway, next time you see me, it may be through a Plexiglas window on visiting day.”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” George said soberly.

Karen let out a grateful little laugh. “You know something? I believe you. Thank you, George.” She glanced down at the mud on her shoes from climbing up and down the trail to the lake house. “So, have you found out anything more about Annabelle Schlessinger? How she died?”

“Funny you should ask,” George replied. He filled her in on what he’d learned from the newspaper account of the fire, and from Erin Gottlieb.

Karen listened intently. “So Annabelle supposedly died in a fire,” she said, almost to herself.

“What do you mean supposedly ?” George asked.

“I’m just wondering. If Annabelle isn’t really dead, it would explain a lot.”

“I still don’t understand,” he said.