by Joanne Fluke
“It’s going to be cold tonight,” Norman said. “That breeze is icy. Do you want me to drive to the garage and park there? Then we won’t have as far to walk.”
“No, I’m okay,” Hannah told him. “It’s only one building away and we can go across the planter to get there. Mike’s probably parked his cruiser in my spot anyway, and I’ll leave the extra space open for Michelle.”
It was only a short walk and Hannah was about to start up her open staircase when she heard a plaintive yowl. “That sounds like Moishe!” she said.
“And it came from down here.” Norman bent over to look under the staircase. “It is Moishe! What are you doing under there, Moishe?”
Moishe gave another yowl and crawled out on his belly. His fur was matted down, his ears were flat against his head, and he looked terribly frightened.
“Come here, Moishe,” Hannah said, holding out her arms. No more than a millisecond later, Moishe was in her arms, trying to tunnel inside her parka.
“He’s scared to death!” Hannah said, turning to Norman with wide eyes. “What’s wrong? And how did he get out?”
“I don’t know,” Norman said, standing back so that he could see the upstairs door to Hannah’s condo. “The door’s closed.”
“Thank God you found him!” a familiar voice said, and Hannah turned to see her mother rushing up the garage steps. “I’ve been looking all over for him!”
“He was here, under the staircase,” Norman told her, and then he turned to Hannah. “We’d better take him upstairs where he feels more comfortable.”
Hannah began to approach the outside staircase, but Moishe yowled again. “He’s shaking even harder,” she said, staring down at her pet in surprise. “He’s afraid to go up there, Norman!”
“Bring him to my car,” Delores said. “I’ll take him home with me. He loves to hunt in my penthouse garden and it’ll calm him down.”
Just then, Michelle came out of the garage. “What’s happening?” she asked them. “And why are you parked in my spot, Mother?”
Hannah turned to stare at her mother. “All I know is that Moishe was hiding under the open staircase and he’s scared to death to go upstairs. Something’s wrong and I think Mother knows what it is. What is it, Mother?”
“I . . . I can’t tell you. They told me not to.”
“Who told you not to?” There was an edge in Hannah’s voice that brooked no argument. “Tell me, Mother!”
“Mike. And Doc. They wanted me to find Moishe and catch you when you got home. They said that under no circumstances was I supposed to let you go upstairs.”
“Here,” Hannah said, handing Moishe to Michelle. “Go with Mother and take Moishe with you. She can drive and you can hold Moishe. I’m going up there to see what’s happened.”
“But you can’t!” Delores said, trying to get in front of Hannah to block her way.
“The hell I can’t!” Hannah told her, pushing her mother out of the way. “Take Moishe to your place and keep him safe. I’m going upstairs and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”
And with that said, Hannah muscled her way past her mother, Michelle, and Norman, and ran up the stairs to her home. Her heart was beating a rapid tattoo in her chest and she hoped she wasn’t about to have a heart attack. At this point, she didn’t give it more than a passing thought as she reached her door, unlocked it, and barreled inside. There was something terribly wrong and she needed to know what it was.
* * *
“Try to stop me and I’ll flatten you,” she said as Lonnie attempted to grab her arm. “Get out of my way!”
“You can’t come in here, Hannah!” Mike came racing down the hallway to intercept her.
“Oh yes, I can!” Hannah said, and there was pure steel in her voice. “It’s my house and you’re the intruder. Get out of my way or I’ll mow you down!”
With a strength borne of pure determination, Hannah muscled her way past Mike and opened her bedroom door. And that was when she saw it, the blood splattered on the wall and the carpet. She reeled on her feet, almost stumbling over the plate of Chocolate Cream Pie that had fallen on the floor. Her mind was filled with a kaleidoscope of images she could not immediately process. The overturned chair that had been sitting in the corner. The suitcase that was propped open on the bed table. The open closet with clothes and boxes strewn on the floor. And then the final, hideous image of the bed that had once been their bed, and the unspeakable violence that had been inflicted on the man she’d once thought was her husband. And then Hannah Louise Swensen did something she’d sworn she’d never do again in her lifetime. Her world closed in with dizzying speed and she fainted dead away.
Chapter Twenty-one
There was a horrid, pungent stench in the air and she had to get away from it. She turned her head this way and that, attempting to get away from it, but it seemed to follow her. It was sharp and astringent, taking her breath away. She coughed once. Twice. And a deep voice said, “She’s coming out of it now.”
Coming out of what? her rational mind asked, but she couldn’t seem to form the words out loud. It was as if the smell had taken away her voice and her body had ceased to function normally. Even the simple action of blinking her eyes seemed to be in slow motion.
“Huh,” she managed to force the sound from her throat, but it was more of a moan than a word. You need a question mark at the end, her rational mind told her. Hannah took another breath and tried to concentrate. And then, somehow, she managed to force out the sound again.
“Huh?” she heard herself say, and this time it sounded like a question. Atta girl! You did it! her rational mind praised her, and Hannah felt inordinately proud of herself.
“Huh?” she uttered the word again, doing her best to put some emotion in the very short word. “Huh?”
“You fainted, Hannah,” the same voice answered her, and this time she recognized it. The deep, comforting voice belonged to her stepfather, Doc Knight.
“Doc!” she forced out another word, and she drew a relieved breath. She still felt a little dizzy and muddle-headed, but being able to recognize Doc’s voice was encouraging.
“Sick?” she asked, struggling to sit up. And that’s when she realized that she was on her own sofa in her own living room, surrounded by Doc and several other people.
She turned her head slightly. Norman. And Mike. And there was Lonnie. “Wha . . . happened?” she asked them.
“You fainted from the shock,” Doc told her. “Norman and Lonnie carried you in here.”
“Moishe!” The word came out clearly and full of fear for her pet.
“Delores and Michelle took him to the penthouse,” Mike answered. “They called a couple of minutes ago to tell us that he was in the garden and he’d even eaten a couple of cat treats.”
Dimly, Hannah remembered hearing bells. Perhaps that had been the telephone and the reason she’d regained consciousness. But there had been some horrible smell and . . . Hannah began to smile. She’d only smelled that particular odor once before and now she knew what it was. “Smelling salts,” she said out loud.
“Yes, it’s terribly old-fashioned, but I always carry them in my bag,” Doc confessed. “Open your eyes wide, Hannah. I want to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself when you fell.”
Hannah opened her eyes all the way and let Doc shine his little flashlight in them. “I fell?”
“Yes,” Mike told her. “We caught you halfway down, but you hit your head on the side of the bed.”
“Oh!” Hannah could feel herself getting slightly dizzy again as she remembered why she’d been in the bedroom and what she’d seen. She didn’t want to ask the next question that occurred to her, but she had to know. “Is he . . . dead?”
“Yes. Norman’s going to take you back to your mother’s place now, Hannah. Doc says you need to rest tonight, but I’ll be there in the morning to ask you some questions.” All this was delivered in a neutral tone, a cop’s tone that held no emotion.
; “All right,” Hannah said, agreeing quickly. Now that she’d remembered what she’d seen, she wanted to leave the condo as fast as she could. “Can I . . . go now?”
Mike moved closer and put his arm around her shoulders. He gave her a little hug and said, “Yes, Hannah. Go now and get some rest. And if you need anything at all, I’m only a phone call away.”
* * *
Somehow, Hannah managed to maintain her composure on the ride back to Lake Eden. Norman pulled up in front of the Albion Hotel, parked in one of the reserved spots, and came around to open the passenger door for Hannah.
“Come on, Hannah,” he said, taking her hand and helping her out of the car. “I’ll take you up to the penthouse.”
Hannah wanted to thank him, but she seemed to have lost her voice again. All she could do was nod and give his arm a little pat to show that she’d understood what he’d said. They walked through the lobby, past the rolls of new carpeting that would be installed, and headed straight for the elevator on the back wall.
“Come on, Hannah.” Norman took her arm and ushered her inside the elevator. “It’s going to be okay. Just hang on for a few minutes longer and you’ll be with your mother and Michelle.”
There’s a choice? Hannah’s mind prodded her, but of course she didn’t say that. Actually, there was a choice. If she collapsed right now, Norman would have to lift her off the floor of the elevator and carry her into her mother’s penthouse. She had no doubt that Norman could do that if he had to, but she knew she could manage to maintain on her own.
“I’m okay,” she said, even though okay was not an accurate description of the way she felt. Shaky would have described the way her legs felt as they began to ascend to the penthouse floor. And faint would have been the word to explain the buzzing that was filling her head with noise. Light-headed would have explained why she felt like gripping Norman’s arm to keep her balance, and frightening would have explained the phenomenon that made the elevator walls seem to close in and then recede.
“Are you with me?” Norman asked her.
Of course I’m with you. I’m right here in an elevator with you, Hannah’s rational mind replied. But Hannah said, “I’m just hunky-dory,” hoping he would appreciate her attempt at humor.
“Don’t, Hannah,” Norman said sympathetically, putting his arm around her shoulders and giving her a comforting squeeze. “I know it’s hard, but we’re almost here and then your family will help.”
Hannah thought about that for a moment and then she nodded. “Yes. They will.”
“I’ll stay with you, too,” Norman offered, “if you want me to.”
Is this a trap? her suspicious mind asked her. Will Norman expect more than you’re able to give him if you tell him you want him to stay?
Don’t be ridiculous, the rational part of her mind countered. Norman just wants to help and he’s not quite sure what to do.
As the elevator doors opened on the penthouse floor, Hannah reached a decision. She’d tell the truth. It was always the best way. And she turned to Norman and said, “Yes, please. I want you to stay with me, Norman.”
He took Hannah’s arm and shepherded her down the hallway to the penthouse door. Then he half-supported her as he rang the doorbell.
“Hannah!” Delores said, opening the door almost immediately. “Oh, honey! Come in. Let me help you.”
“Mom!” Hannah said, swallowing hard and trying to maintain her composure. But trying to be calm and act as if her heart wasn’t breaking was impossible. Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. And she sobbed as she felt her mother’s arms close around her. “Oh, Mommy! He’s dead!”
“I know, honey.” Delores held her tightly. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
It took Hannah a moment to realize what her mother had said. “Why are you thanking me?”
“Because you haven’t called me mommy since you were three years old. Oh, honey. You have no idea how much that means to me.”
And then Delores and Norman half-carried her through the living room and out into the penthouse garden, where they helped to seat her on a chaise longue.
“Here’s Moishe,” Delores said as Moishe spotted Hannah and ran toward her.
“Rrroow!” Moishe yowled a greeting as he jumped up into her lap. He crawled up her body to lick her face, and she laughed through her tears and reached down to pet him. “It’s okay, Moishe,” she told him. And surprisingly, it was okay. Here they were, nestled in the bosom of her family, surrounded by the people that loved her. Hannah felt the weight of shock and grief lighten and she drew a relieved breath. The weight was still there but wasn’t as heavy as it had been.
Moishe purred as she stroked his soft fur and Hannah knew that he was putting the trauma of hiding outside in the dark behind him. He was safe here in her lap, surrounded by Delores, and Michelle, and Andrea, and Norman. And that was when Hannah realized that she was safe too, and she managed a shaky smile.
“Thank you,” she said to all of them. “I’m so glad I’m here with you.”
Chapter Twenty-two
When Hannah woke up in the morning, the sun was in the wrong place. For one brief moment she thought she’d slept all morning and it was late afternoon. But then she realized that the sun wasn’t the only thing out of place. The dresser wasn’t against the right wall next to the door. The closet wasn’t on her right, and the mirrors had been replaced with wooden doors. And the bed was king-size rather than queen-size. And that was when she finally realized that she was not at home in her own condo.
Reality swam in, doing a rapid Australian crawl, and even though she fought to stop its advance before it got to the bad part, the memories of the previous night rushed back. Ross on the bed, covered in blood and almost unrecognizable. Splatters of his lifeblood on the wall and the carpet that Andrea had chosen for their condo. She was in her mother and Doc’s penthouse, and the guest bedroom began to spin around her in dizzying circles.
You’re stronger than that. Get over it, her rational mind told her. And when she opened her eyes, the bedroom was stationary once again.
Oh, how she wanted to stay right where she was now, safe in her mother’s guest room, not thinking and not feeling! You can’t do that, her rational mind reminded her. You have work to do and only you can do it.
Hannah sat up and shoved her feet into her slippers. Her mission, her obligation, was clear. It was her duty to discover the identity of Ross’s killer, learn why he’d been murdered in the condo they’d shared for such a brief time, and make sure that the killer was punished for the awful crime that had been committed. She had to make sure that justice was done.
Even though her tired body clamored for more rest, Hannah rose to her feet. She turned to look at the pillow next to hers and felt grateful as she saw that Moishe was sleeping there. He was a comfort and he loved her unconditionally. If only Ross could have been that way!
Don’t think, just do, her rational mind told her, and Hannah shrugged into her chenille robe, the one her mother hated because it was so old and so worn. How had her robe gotten here? She pondered that question as she walked to the adjoining bathroom to take her morning shower.
Her question was answered when she came out of the shower. There was a note propped up on her dresser and it was in Michelle’s handwriting. Sleep in this morning, Hannah. You don’t have to go to work. Aunt Nancy, Lisa, and I have everything covered at The Cookie Jar.
Hannah’s lips curved up in a small smile. And then she noticed the open suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed. Clean clothes, but how had they gotten to her mother’s penthouse?
These were in the dryer, another note read. It was propped up on top of a pair of Hannah’s clean jeans and Hannah didn’t need a signature to know that this was more of her thoughtful youngest sister’s work. Michelle must have gone back to the condo last night to collect clean clothes for her. And since the master bedroom was probably taped off as a crime scene, Michelle had been resourceful enough to check
the dryer in the laundry room and discover the clothes Hannah hadn’t taken out before they’d left for work.
Several minutes later, Hannah was dressed in clean clothes. She opened the bedroom door, stepped out into the carpeted hallway, and realized that there was a delicious smell in the air.
Pineapple, she thought, beginning to smile. And then she led the way to the kitchen with Moishe following at her heels. Michelle was baking something with pineapple.
When woman and cat entered the kitchen, they parted ways. Moishe’s feeder, the one Norman had given him that never ran out of dry kitty crunchies, sat against the far wall. Moishe made a beeline for the rug Michelle had placed under the feeder. He took a bite, crunched loudly, and moved to his water bowl to drink.
“Good morning, Hannah,” Michelle greeted her. “Sit down and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
Smart sister, Hannah thought as she slid into the cushioned booth her mother and Doc had installed in a corner of their kitchen, and accepted the mug of coffee that Michelle handed to her. I’m really glad Michelle didn’t ask how I was feeling. The word I might have chosen is not the right word to utter before one’s first sip of coffee.
“Thanks, Michelle,” Hannah said, taking a big sip of coffee and swallowing. “This should help. I don’t know why, but I’m a little groggy this morning.”
“I know why,” Michelle said, pouring a cup of coffee for herself and setting it down across from Hannah. “Doc said he gave you something to help you sleep last night.”
“He did?” Hannah thought back to the previous evening, but she didn’t remember taking any pills except a couple of aspirins for the headache she’d felt coming on.
“He put it in the paper cup with your aspirin,” Michelle explained. “He told us that it was a very light tranquilizer that would keep you sleeping without nightmares.”
Just then the stove timer sounded and Michelle grabbed oven mitts, opened the oven door, and took out two muffin tins. She hurried to the wire cooling racks sitting on the counter and set the pans on them.
