The Killing Game(6)

Andi hurried up the stairs. She didn’t want to be late for the meeting with Carter and Emma and have to explain what kind of doctor she’d visited. Until it became too obvious to hide, she would keep her condition a secret.

Her steps hesitated in the hallway as she passed the doorway of the spare bedroom she’d planned as a nursery. It was painted a bright yellow, and there was a chest of once-scarred pine drawers, a piece of Greg’s from his childhood, that Andi had repainted white. That was as far as their plans for a family had gone. She’d wanted to wait until she knew what sex the child was before decorating further.

She wondered now if Mimi knew the sex of her baby. She’d tried so hard not to think about Greg’s mistress and her child, whether that baby really was Greg’s.

Now, shaking her head in disbelief, she went on to the master bedroom, which was done in tones of cream with touches of green, its heavy Mediterranean furniture Greg’s choice. He would never have gone for the Schultz Lake cabin even though Wren Development was building the new lodge, heralding a new era for the whole lake community. It wouldn’t matter how many people were making the cabins their primary residences. In Greg’s world, that wasn’t how it worked.

But now Greg was gone, and Andi was in the thick of the lodge construction. As for the rest of Wren Development’s projects, she didn’t really know much about them; she hadn’t been privy to all the ins and outs of the company.

Glancing into the mirror, Andi checked her outfit—gray slacks and jacket over a white silk blouse with its looping bow. She decided her clothes looked presentable enough for the meeting. Her black pumps could use a polish, but she didn’t have time and had no idea what box the polish might be in. They would suffice and only had a slight heel, nothing like the crazy three-inchers some of the young women wore to the office. Jill, the Wren Development receptionist, always looked like she was about to teeter over, popping ligaments and tendons along the way. Andi had never been one for super high heels in any case, but with her pregnancy, her footwear would definitely be heading into the supersensible range, a facet clotheshorse Emma could pick up on, if she was ever sober enough to notice. Greg’s sister was flirting with a serious drinking problem, though no one seemed to be addressing that elephant in the room either.

Ten minutes later she was on her way toward the lodge, where her meeting was scheduled for eleven-thirty. She glanced at the clock on her dash again and saw it was eleven straight up. Could she stop by the cabin and still be on time for the meeting? Not really. But the keys to the cabin were in her purse and she hadn’t had time to check things out until now. She might be a little late to the meeting, but so far neither Carter nor Emma even viewed her as a viable partner, so . . .

The cabin was down a rutted lane, like most of them were on the west side of the lake. Tiny fir branches and needles made a carpet that crackled as she drove away from the main road. A low September sun sent slanting rays into her eyes and she squinted as she angled beneath the arc of a natural arbor, formed by the sweeping branches of Douglas firs on either side. The greenery created the frame for a beautiful picture as Andi drove forward toward her new home at the edge of the lake. At least it would have been beautiful if the cabin hadn’t looked so decrepit. The moss-covered roof was first on her repair list, and the weathered gray board and batten siding needed to be repainted. The front porch listed a little, causing the southernmost post to dip, and therefore the roof above it.

She pulled to a stop and hurried up the two wooden steps, aware that one board was loose. She’d gotten the property “as is” on a short sale and was prepared to make repairs. Digging in her purse for her new keys, she had to untangle them from her old ones. Then she threaded the key into the lock, only to have the door open before she even twisted it.

Unlocked?

Andi frowned. Had her Realtor forgotten to lock it? Or...

She checked the dead bolt and realized the jamb was broken out, making it impossible to lock it satisfactorily. Huh. She was pretty sure it hadn’t been that way before.

Her stomach clenched. She was worried the place had been broken in to by vandals, but a cursory glance from the porch into the living room/dining nook showed the place was undisturbed. Carefully, she stepped inside, walking through the first two rooms to the kitchen. It sported old, scarred linoleum and chipped gray Formica. The pine cabinets, with their black, rustic hinges, were just as sorry and beaten up as they’d been when she’d seen them the last time, just before closing. No vandalism she could detect.

She retraced her steps and headed down the short hallway toward the bedrooms. The second bedroom still smelled musty, and the dust on the bedstead and sagging mattress, “gifts” from the previous owner, looked as if it had been there since the ice age. The hall bath looked okay, and as she crossed into the master bedroom, she let out a pent-up breath.

Then her eye fell on the brown envelope lying atop the bare mattress on the bed. ANDREA was spelled out in block letters on its face. Andi’s brain tried to tell her that Edie, her Realtor, had left it for her, but no one addressed her as Andrea.

Her heartbeat quickened as she walked forward and picked up the envelope by its edge. Sliding a finger under the flap, which wasn’t glued down, she carefully pulled out the hard white notecard. More block letters:





LITTLE BIRDS NEED TO FLY.





She stared in confusion. What? She lost her grip and the card fluttered to the floor. Immediately she bent to pick it up, trying hard to be careful, but it took an effort to get it back in the envelope without smearing her own fingerprints on it. Her mouth was dry, spitless. She didn’t know what the words signified, but they sounded ominous. A play on her last name, she guessed, but what did they mean?