Kevin O'Brien - Disturbed

“I forgot that you heard me talking to Detective Blazevich on Sunday.” Frowning, Molly nodded. “Yes, I think this woman is the one behind Courtney’s accident, and Mr. Hahn’s arrest, and Rachel’s toolshed catching on fire. I think she broke into your locker, too. Your mother even talked about it with me that last day—”

“The day she was killed,” Chris said.

Molly nodded. “Over lunch, your mother asked me, ‘Do you think some woman is trying to pit us against each other?’ And I believe your mother was right.”

Chris didn’t say anything. He folded his arms and leaned against a support beam.

“Let me ask you,” Molly said. “Do you really believe your father was alone in that hotel room when he overdosed? You know he didn’t do drugs, Chris. Don’t you think he might have been tricked into taking them?”

“Maybe,” he muttered, shrugging. “I used to think I knew my dad really well, but things changed. I’m not so sure anymore.”

Molly studied his hurt, confused expression as he glanced down at the floor. She realized she couldn’t tell him that Jenna Corson could have orchestrated all the recent killings and tragedies — not until she knew for certain. If he knew the scandal with Mr. Corson had caused his parents’ deaths, Chris wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt.

“I believe Natalie, the woman staying in the Nguyens’ house, might be responsible for everything that’s going on,” Molly said.

“That’s the jogger lady you don’t like,” Chris said. “Is she the one you were yelling at in front of the church today? I couldn’t make out what you were saying. . ”

Molly nodded. “I think she’s very dangerous. She knows she’s been found out, so I doubt she’ll be coming back to the Nguyens’ house. If she has any unfinished business, she’s going to wrap it up very soon. We have to be on our guard. If you see her, Chris, you need to let me know.”

Reaching up with one hand, Chris tugged at the clothesline. “Well, I really don’t know what she looks like, so that’ll be kind of tough.”

Molly could tell he wasn’t taking her very seriously. She opened the dryer, took out a pile of warm towels, and started folding them. “I’m just trying to tell you to be very careful and cautious for the next day or two. As soon as I can gather some more information about this woman, I’m going to the police.”

“Why don’t you go to the police now?” he asked.

“Because — like you, they don’t believe me,” Molly replied edgily. “They think I’m paranoid — and irrational and maybe crazy.”

“I was talking to Elvis, and he said ladies can get that way when they’re pregnant.”

Molly put down an unfolded hand towel. “So — you know?”

“Yeah, like I told you, I heard you talking to that cop.”

“And how do you feel about becoming a big brother again?” she asked nervously.

He gave an uneasy shrug. “To be honest, I’m not really sure. Are you keeping it?”

She scowled at him. “Of course I’m keeping it! What kind of question is that?”

“Well, you said you were mad at Dad. I wasn’t sure how you felt about having his baby.”

“Chris, I loved your father,” she said. “I want very much to have this baby. I know you and Erin have had your problems adjusting to me as your stepmother. You’d probably prefer to go live with Aunt Trish, or have her move here. But—”

“Aunt Trish doesn’t want us,” he interrupted. “She told me last night. She’s got her own life, and she’s going to India in a few months. So you’re it. Nobody else wants to take us.”

Molly let out a stunned laugh. “Well, I don’t have anybody else but you guys. So I guess we’re stuck with each other. Are you okay with that, Chris?”

“Sure, I guess,” he murmured.

She smiled at him and then uncertainly put her arms out.

Chris shuffled over and awkwardly hugged her.

She patted his back. “I really wish you were happier about this — and about the baby.”

“Give me a little time, Molly, okay?” he whispered. “Just a little more time.”

He went to bed at 11:20. Molly stayed up late, getting MapQuest directions from the Internet for the places she needed to visit in La Conner tomorrow. She got an e-mail from Rachel at 12:55 A.M:

I’m locking up and going to bed. I can see your study light is still on. Get some sleep. You don’t want to get sick again! See you tomorrow * * *

But Molly didn’t go up to bed. She got a blanket and slept on the living room sofa. If Natalie’s car came down the street, she wanted to hear it. And if someone tried to break into the house, she wanted to hear that, too.

She had her family to protect.

“Hi, it’s Todd. You’ve missed me, but you got my voice mail. You know what to do. Talk after the beep. Ciao for now.”

Standing in the driveway, Molly held the cell phone to her ear. At this point, she really didn’t expect him to pick up or call her back.

With a sigh, she clicked off her phone and shoved it in her purse. She already had a supply of peppermints to ward off morning sickness in there. She set the purse on the front passenger seat of her Saturn. Also on the seat were MapQuest directions to various spots in La Conner, and her sketch of Natalie. A bottle of water was in the cup holder.

She’d put Erin on the school bus, and her stepdaughter had actually hugged her good-bye — the first demonstration of affection since the yellow-paint incident. Chris had taken his dad’s Lexus to school. He and Elvis had picked it up at some police holding lot on Monday. Molly figured the cops had taken it from the hotel so they could search it for drugs.

Before leaving the house, she’d called Rachel to make sure she was all right. “Not really,” her neighbor had replied, sounding groggy. “I didn’t sleep well last night, and I’m feeling a little baby barfy right now. Call me when you get back from La Conner, okay?”

Molly hadn’t slept too well herself. She’d kept listening for a car on the block but never heard anything. She’d finally dozed off at around three in the morning. Without her usual two cups of Starbucks Breakfast Blend, she still felt sluggish. But at least she wasn’t sick.

It was chilly and overcast out. She had on a black sweater, jeans, and a pea jacket. Before ducking behind the wheel, she glanced once more down the block at the Nguyens’ house. The windows were dark, and Natalie’s car wasn’t in the driveway.

As far as Molly knew, Natalie hadn’t come back since the funeral yesterday. If that woman shouting, “Jenna!” at her hadn’t sent her scurrying, an obvious bulletin from Todd about her precarious living arrangement certainly had. That meant her things were still there — maybe even some personal items like an appointment book or a journal.

Molly made sure her car doors were locked; then she hiked up the collar of her pea jacket and started down the street toward the Nguyens’ house. Lynette’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and it hadn’t been there yesterday, either. Next door, Jill’s Toyota was parked in front of her garage.

Heading up the Nguyens’ walkway, Molly glanced over to Jill’s house to make sure no one was watching her. She rang the Nguyens’ bell twice and then tried the door. Locked. After a cautious glance over her shoulder, she crept behind some bushes alongside the house to the first window. The curtains were open, and she studied the formal dining room — with a chandelier over the table for six. She saw a sweater, some magazines, and what looked like a pile of mail on the table. Over on the side table, there was a boom box.

Molly had been inside the Nguyens’ house twice — once for a party, and another time to pick up donations for a charity drive. She remembered a beautiful silver service on that side table. A silver bowl with two silver candelabras had been in the center of the dining table. Molly wondered if the Nguyens packed up all that stuff and put it in storage whenever they went to Denver.