In the Bleak Midwinter

“Not that we know,” he said. “Was there anything pregnancy-related there?”

“Yeah, there was, as a matter of fact. Couple of books stashed under the bed. What To Expect When You’re Expecting, that sort of thing. Some used feminine napkins in the wastebasket, but that could have been her period. Look, give me your fax number, and I’ll have the complete report and the artist’s sketch to you by tomorrow morning. Uh, make that later this morning.”

Russ looked at his watch. Christ, it was after twelve. He was going to have to switch shifts with Lyle MacAuley. No way he could be working this case and still be alert enough to pull Friday night patrol tomorrow. He told Detective Ramirez the station’s fax number, thanked her for her help, and hung up.

In the living room, Kristen was sitting quietly, her head dropped back against the top of her flowery love seat, staring vacantly at the ceiling. Clare, in the bamboo chair next to her, looked up as he walked in. She asked a question with her eyebrows.

He shrugged. “Someone showed up at Katie’s house tonight claiming to be her father. He took something out of her room in a knapsack. One of her housemates was there, she’s talking to a police artist right now, trying to give us a description.”

Clare glanced at Kristen, who didn’t move. “Any chance it was Darrell?” she asked.

“Doesn’t sound it. Supposedly an older man with a mustache. I’m not discounting the idea that it might have been a disguise.”

Clare looked skeptical. “Who the heck could it be? Ethan? He’s in jail.”

“Kristen,” he said, then again, louder, “Kristen?” She rolled her head to face him without stirring from her position on the love seat. “I’ve asked you this before, but was there anyone else your sister might have been seeing? Maybe an older man?”

“I told you,” she said, her voice raw and tired. “If she was seeing someone else, she never let on to me.”

He glanced over to Clare. “The detective in Albany asked if Katie might have been into drugs. Maybe we’re on the wrong track, thinking her murder had something to do with the baby. Maybe she got on the wrong side of some bad people.”

Clare opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off by Kristen. “My sister didn’t do drugs! Or kiddie porn or illegal adoptions or passing bad checks or anything else! She was a good person. A good person! If you weren’t such a cluck-ass small town cop you might have caught the man who did this to her by now!” She lurched upright in the middle of her tirade and stood pointing a shaking finger at Russ.

“Kristen!” Clare jumped to her feet. “That’s not fair.”

Kristen jerked her head around to face the priest. “What do you know about it! My sister is dead! And the best this guy can do is come here and ask me if I know any reason why she might deserve it? Oh, and by the way, did you kill your father tonight? Well, Chief Van Alstyne,” she made his name an insult, “if my sister’s murder didn’t have anything to do with her baby, maybe some nut case is out to kill off all the McWhorters! Who’s gonna be next? Me? Cody?”

“That’s enough, Kristen.” Clare’s voice cut through the air like a helicopter blade, sharp and no-nonsense. “You’re exhausted and upset and not thinking.” She moved to the door, pulling her coat off the rack and finding her boots with her feet, her eyes never leaving the angry young woman twisting her hands back and forth in front of the loveseat. “You call me tomorrow if you want any help with the arrangements.”

She waved a hand at Russ, who was still standing, stocking-footed and wool-headed, in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. He switched into motion, getting his coat and boots while Clare continued. “Chief Van Alstyne will let you know as soon as he finds out anything about the murders.” She laid her hands on Kristen’s shoulders and shook her once, like a mother cat settling a kitten. “In the meanwhile, I want you to get yourself something hot to drink and go straight to bed. Try to get a good night’s sleep and make sure you eat something in the morning. You have my number.” Kristen nodded. “Then we’ll say good night.” Her voice softened. “I’m sorry, Kristen. About everything.” Clare opened the door and jerked her head at Russ. “Time to go.” He kept himself from saying, “Ma’am, yes ma’am,” but he hustled out the door just the same.