Kevin O'Brien - Disturbed

“Have you seen this woman take anything from house?” Mrs. Nguyen had asked.

Perhaps Natalie — or whatever name she used with the pawnbroker — had sold a few household items for some quick cash.

Molly skulked out from behind the bushes and crept around to the back of the house. She tried the kitchen door. It was locked, too. The kitchen window was open a crack, but she couldn’t reach it. By the garbage cans, she noticed an empty square plastic crate to collect recycling. Grabbing the crate, Molly threaded her way through some bushes by the house. She found a bare spot beneath the kitchen window, set the plastic box upside down, and stepped up on it. The crate didn’t feel too sturdy. She nervously clung to the windowsill. She was terrified of falling and possibly harming the baby.

Past the screen window, she peered into the Nguyens’ kitchen. It was a mess. When Molly had last seen the place, Mrs. Nguyen had the kitchen looking spotless, and on the counter had been a collection of top-of-the-line cooking aids — a Mixmaster, rice cooker, blender, and toaster oven. None of those things was there anymore. But the counter was cluttered with dirty plates and glasses, empty bottles and cans, Styrofoam containers, and fast-food bags.

To get inside, she’d need a screwdriver or something to pry the screen off the window. And even then, she couldn’t boost herself up past the sill to climb in — not from this vantage point. She needed a ladder and someone to spot her.

Molly stepped down from the crate. She crept along the side of the house, stopping at every basement window, and then getting down on all fours to see if any of them were unlocked. She rounded the corner and was about to test the fourth basement window when she heard a twig snap behind her.

Molly turned and saw someone standing a few feet away, staring down at her.

“Oh, Jill, God, you scared me,” she said.

“What are you doing?” her neighbor asked.

Molly straightened up and then stepped around the shrubs. “Oh, I–I was looking for Erin’s pet ferret, Fergie. She — she got out, and I chased her down the block to the backyard here. You haven’t seen her, have you?”

With a baffled look, Jill shook her head.

Molly glanced toward the Nguyens’ house. “I hope I didn’t disturb Natalie.”

“I don’t think she’s home,” Jill said. “I haven’t seen her since the funeral yesterday. How are you holding up?”

Molly shrugged. “I’m a little better than yesterday. Thanks for asking.”

“Listen, if Natalie doesn’t come back tonight, you and Rachel will have the cul-de-sac to yourselves,” Jill said. “Lynette and the kids are staying at her sister’s, because she’s closer to the hospital. And Darren’s sleeping over at a friend’s tonight, so I’m going to our cabin on Anderson Island.”

“Well, have a good time,” Molly said.

“That detective mentioned at that block-watch meeting that we should let neighbors know if we won’t be home, so I figure what the heck. Anyway, I should get cracking if I want to catch the next ferry.” She turned and started toward her house. “I hope you find your ferret!” she called over her shoulder.

“I’ll weed her out!” Molly replied.

Five minutes later when she got back to her car, Molly dug the cell phone out of her purse and dialed Rachel again. She still sounded sleepy when she picked up. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry to bother you again, but could you do me a big favor?” Molly asked.

“What is it?” Rachel asked, yawning.

“Just make sure if Natalie comes back, that she doesn’t leave again. I don’t want her clearing out the house and then disappearing. Could you keep a lookout while I’m in La Conner?”

“I’ll set up a roadblock should she return,” Rachel said. “Seriously, I might go to the mini-mart for a few minutes, but I won’t linger. I promise.”

“Thanks,” Molly said. “When I get back this afternoon, we’ll have the entire block to ourselves. Everyone else will be gone. If Natalie left anything behind in the house, this is our chance to sneak in there and take a look. How would you like to help me get inside the Nguyens’ later today?”

“You mean like breaking and entering?”

“Well, you’d hold a ladder while I pry a screen off the kitchen window and climb inside. So — yes, breaking and entering.”

“Sounds like fun. Sign me up. Listen, I’m still not feeling a hundred percent right now. But I should rally by the time you get back. I’ll call your cell if Nat makes an appearance.”

“Thanks, Rachel,” she said. “Feel better. And be careful. Watch your back, okay?”

“I will. Good luck up in La Conner.”

Molly heard her hang up on the other end. She clicked off and set the phone down on the passenger seat.

Biting her lip, she started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. She glanced over at Rachel’s house. She wondered if her neighbor really took her seriously. Did she have any idea just how dangerous Natalie could be? Rachel was the only friend she had right now, and she didn’t want to lose her.

As she pulled out of the cul-de-sac, Molly was still worried about Rachel.

She didn’t notice the NO OUTLET sign at the end of the block was missing.

Chris didn’t take his father’s Lexus to school.

He drove it to the Marriott by the airport. He parked in the same tiered lot his father had probably used five days ago. He’d brought along a photo of his dad. He wasn’t sure how much he believed Molly’s rants about a woman causing all these recent deaths and accidents; but he knew she was right about something. His dad wouldn’t have been in that hotel room alone.

He decided to try the coffee house off the lobby first. It looked like they were finishing up the last of the breakfast rush crowd. He ordered a bowl of Rice Krispies and an orange juice, which cost him $13.50. He showed his dad’s photo to the waitress, and she didn’t recognize him. The busboy who filled his water glass didn’t recognize his dad, either. And the photo didn’t look familiar to two waitresses Chris stopped on his way out of the restaurant.

Wandering around the hallways, he stopped three maids and showed them his father’s picture. None of them had seen his dad on Friday.

In the lobby, he stopped to talk to a uniformed guy who was holding doors and hauling suitcases. He was a good-looking Latino not much older than him. His Marriott name tag said FELIX. Chris showed him the photo of his dad. “Did you happen to see this man here on Friday?”

Felix popped three Tic Tacs in his mouth and immediately started munching them. “He looks just like you,” he said, studying the photo. “Who is he?”

“My — my uncle,” Chris lied. “He overdosed in one of the rooms.”

“Oh, shit, man, that’s the guy the police were asking about,” Felix said. “He’s your uncle?”

Chris nodded. “I want to find out if he was alone or not.”

Felix glanced past Chris’s shoulder. “C’mon, step out with me. The desk clerk is looking at us. Goddamn weasel is always on my case. . ”

Chris went through the lobby doors with him to the covered atrium, where there was a baggage cart for pushing suitcases and a valet station. He zipped up his school jacket. “Anything you heard, anything you could tell me would be really helpful,” he said.

“Well, I hear he had himself a real party there in 104,” Felix said. “If you gotta go, that’s the way to go. Wait here. . ” He took the photo over to a tall, blond guy at the valet station.

Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, Chris stood by the door. He watched Felix show the photo to his pal. He whispered something to the blond guy, and they both chuckled. Chris had a bad feeling about this. His eyes started to tear up.