Catnapped by Gabriella Herkert

Author:Gabriella Herkert
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-08-23T19:08:34+00:00

Chapter Twenty-two

I parked at the curb and got out of the car. The Burkes’ house was a two-story Georgian with ivy-covered pillars. The lawn was neatly mowed, but the flowers along the walkway drooped. I stepped around a moldering pile of newspapers, pulled open the screen door, and knocked. No one came. I tried to peer through a shuttered window, then banged a second time with considerably more force. I leaned closer to the door, putting my ear against the wood just before it swung inward. I straightened.

“Mrs. Burke?”

“Who are you?” I guessed the woman was in her fifties, although the grayness of her skin and the dark circles under her eyes made her look years older. She was dressed in an old pink bathrobe and big pink slippers. I wondered if she was ill.

“Mrs. Burke, I’m Sara Townley. I’m an investigator. I have a couple of questions about your husband.”

Her pale blue eyes filled with tears, and her expression crumpled as she lifted her hands to her face. I didn’t know what to do. I hated when people cried. I reached out a tentative hand and patted at the shuddering chenille-covered shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Burke. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I just miss him so much.” She sniffled loudly, reaching into her pocket for a crumpled handkerchief.

“I know.” What the heck was I supposed to say? I was glad to see that she seemed to be getting her control back.

“I’m sorry, Miss . . .”

“Townley. Sara Townley.”

“Please come in.” She made a sweeping gesture with one hand, and I preceded her into the cramped living room. Most people didn’t just invite strangers into their houses anymore, and I was a little surprised she had. Then again, maybe she wanted to talk to someone about him. Grieve a little. Even a door-to-door psycho killer could lend an ear.

The drawn shades left the room shadowed, but I could feel eyes on me from every corner of the room. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. As my vision adjusted, I could make out the room’s contents. Dolls. Dozens, hundreds of them. They sat on every table, in every chair, and on the fireplace mantel. Each was dressed with infinite care and an obvious attention to detail. I took a step farther. They were like one of those velvet paintings with eyes that followed you everywhere you went. I shivered. Mrs. Burke stepped around me and picked up two dolls from a nearby armchair, one a fair-skinned blonde in a long blue gown, the other a black infant in a fuzzy yellow sleeper. She cradled the dolls in her arms and moved to the couch, where she sank into a narrow gap between a three-foot-tall Raggedy Ann doll and a Cabbage Patch Kid.

“I feel better when they’re around me. They’re the only family I have left.” Her eyes filled again, but the tears didn’t fall. She hugged the dolls closer to her chest and took a deep breath.

“I understand.” I would have said anything to keep her from crying and to get out of this room as soon as possible.

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