Clare Westbrook 2 - Never Look Back by Linda Lael Miller

Author:Linda Lael Miller
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-07-11T08:49:00+00:00

Twenty

I remained hospitalized until the following Wednesday morning—a long time, by today's HMO, Gong Show standards. Considering that the medical establishment had been known to perform a mastectomy and send the patient home the same day, as if they'd had a wart removed instead of a breast, I found this remarkable.

It was also restorative—if it hadn't been for the pain, which sometimes reached breathtaking crescendos, the whole experience would have resembled a visit to one of Scottsdale's legendary spas. During this time-out-of-time, nobody shot at me. I didn't stumble across a single corpse, and not one serial killer called to inform me that they were getting closer. What luxury.

Sonterra brought flowers. Loretta brought books, and grumbled about her speeding ticket. Even Mrs. K put in several appearances, each time in costume for some mystery-shopper gig. She didn't make a lot of money, but the work suited her adventurous nature, and lent a touch of drama that Rodney and bingo simply couldn't provide.

I was happy for her.

Alas, her infamous nephew was still unemployed, still under police surveillance, and still sleeping on her couch. There had been no sign of the missing Angela, which worried me. When a person is mixed up with bad people, and then disappears from the radar screen, it is not a good sign.

By the time I was released, I had my equilibrium back, and most of my perspective.

Sonterra picked me up at four-thirty in the afternoon.

"I want to go straight home," I announced, as soon as my cast and I were settled in the front seat of his SUV. I was braced for an argument, but Sonterra is full of surprises. He gave in.

Turned out, he'd had all the locks changed at my place. The dogs greeted us with happy yelps as soon as we stepped over the threshold.

On the drive over from the hospital, Sonterra had filled me in on Eddie—out of the hospital, back at work. He and Jenna were still on the outs, though the attack might have drawn them closer. No sign of the doll man, either—he'd apparently gone underground.

I stood at the front window for a few moments, gazing at the house across the street. The yellow crime scene tape had been removed, and the place seemed normal—if you didn't know a savage murder had been committed there.

Sonterra came up behind me, put a hand on my good shoulder, and gently turned me toward him.

"Any news about Dr. Witherspoon?" I asked.

Sonterra set his jaw. Shook his head. "Still missing. We've turned the whole county upside down. Not a trace of him."

"Do you think he's dead?"

Sonterra steered me to the couch, sat me down. "Maybe. If he's alive, he's probably in hiding, which would make him look good for the murder."

"The doll man killed Melanie," I said. I was certain of that much, anyway.

"Yeah," Sonterra agreed. "But Witherspoon might be the doll man."

I barely knew Witherspoon, but he'd struck me as rational.

"How come you're so willing to let me come back here?" I asked, unable to hold the question in any longer.

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