The Woman in the Woods by John Connolly

Author:John Connolly
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Atria/Emily Bestler Books

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THE LOMBARDI HOUSE ON Orchard Road was dark when Parker arrived, and he saw no car in the drive. He rang the doorbell twice, just in case Lombardi was sleeping, before making a circuit of the property. All the doors and windows were locked, and nothing appeared to be disturbed when he shone his pocket flashlight inside.

He was about to call Molly Bow again when a neighbor began hovering in a yard across the street. Parker headed over and showed the woman his ID. She was in her forties, but with the kind of long, prematurely gray hair that suggested either massive self-confidence or the blessed state of not giving a rat’s ass. Judging by her clothes, which were expensively casual, Parker opted for the former, but he still felt the hair wasn’t doing her any favors. He guessed she might have been described as “handsome,” but not by him. Cary Grant was handsome. Lots of men were, but generally speaking Parker believed it was better for women to avoid the label.

The neighbor told him her name was Dakota, which figured, and she’d been living on Orchard for ten years now. She knew Maela Lombardi well; they worked together at various community organizations. Dakota asked if Parker was concerned about Maela, and he answered that he wasn’t as yet, but remained anxious to speak with her.

“I haven’t seen her for a few days,” said Dakota.

“Is that unusual?”

Dakota frowned, and scrunched up her nose. It made her look younger than she was, that damn gray hair apart.

“You know, it kind of is. She’d usually let me know if she was going away, just so I could keep an eye on her place. It’s not like we have a lot of burglaries round here, but it pays to be careful.”

It turned out that Maela Lombardi had a niece named Janette Howard who lived a couple of blocks away on Arlington Lane, so Parker drove over there, parked outside the house, and rang the bell. The door was answered by a young woman who might have been taken for about fifteen were it not for the three young kids, two boys and a girl, alternately tugging at her arms and calling her “Mommy,” while simultaneously peering with varying degrees of interest at the visitor on their doorstep.

“Janette Howard?”

“Yes?”

For the second time in thirty minutes, Parker identified himself and indicated that he was seeking to speak with Maela Lombardi.

“My aunt lives just over on Orchard,” said Howard. “She should be home right now.”

“She isn’t. I was wondering if she’d given any indication that she might be about to leave for somewhere.”

“Maela never goes away. She doesn’t approve of vacations.”

“Would she tell you if she intended to take a trip?”

“Maybe, if she was going to be out of town for a while, but like I said, she’s a homebody.” She hushed her children, and silence descended for a moment or two. “Should I call the police?”

Parker said it was her decision, but if she wanted to check the house first, he’d be happy to accompany her.

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