214 Palmer Street(48)

So I ruled out the idea that she had a legitimate reason for being in that particular house when the occupants were away. She was there on the sly and her deliberate proximity to the scene of what I was certain was a crime made me sure she was investigating.

Halfway down the block, I pulled over to the curb, and watched the house. After an hour with nothing to show for it, I wondered—should I just knock on the door? No. I wasn’t that willing to play my hand just yet.

Instead, I fished my cell phone out of my bag, pushed *67, then called Sarah’s number. It rang twice. When it was answered, it was Kirk. His words came out in a rush. “Sarah, is that you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He was clearly disappointed. “Who is this?”

I changed the pitch of my voice and said, “I’d like to speak to Sarah Aden.”

“This is Kirk Aden—Sarah’s my wife.” A pause. “I’m actually trying to find her myself. Are you a friend?”

I clicked on the button, disconnecting the call. Goodbye, Kirk Aden. That’s all you’re going to get from me. I felt a slight triumph in knowing the location of his wife, while he was still in the dark. And I found it interesting that he’d said Sarah was his wife. Most men would have identified themselves as the husband. A small distinction, but notable for its possessiveness. His wife. As in, she belonged to him.

How much easier would it have been to ignore her suspicions, and just live her life? She had the big house and plenty of money. For most women it would have been more than enough. They’d have left the past alone and carried on with their vacations and dinners out, worrying about the kitchen remodel and what to wear to formal charity functions. But not Sarah.

I’d underestimated her.



Well, if Sarah was going to keep pursuing this, I wanted to keep an eye on the proceedings.

That night, just after dark, I returned. I parked down the block and cavalierly walked down the street, hands in my pockets as if just taking a stroll. For those who had security cameras, I didn’t want anything to show up that might arouse suspicion. When I reached Maggie’s house, I went up to the front door and knocked twice, waited a bit, then rang the doorbell. While I was biding my time, I glanced down to see a plastic garden gnome, identical to the one next door. I picked it up and turned it over, wiping off the remnants of mulch clinging to the bottom. Sure enough, there was an opening with a small tab, which I pushed with my fingernail. It popped open, revealing a house key on a metal ring. I shook my head in dismay. Oh, Maggie, this was not your smartest move. At the very least she could have hidden the gnome behind a bush to make it less noticeable.

She was lucky I had no interest in going inside her house.

I waited long enough to make sure no one was home at Maggie’s, then circled around the side of the house, coming to a stop to look at the house next door. I crossed my arms and took it in. When I’d lived in the neighborhood, the Johnson family had lived there, but that was a long time ago and I’d heard they’d moved somewhere warmer. Florida, maybe? Their kids were all much older than me, and I had no idea what had happened to any of them. Standing in the dark, I had no fear of being spotted. The lights were on in several rooms. Through one window, I saw a woman sitting at a computer, her back to the window. In the kitchen, a man wiped off the counters, oblivious to my presence. I watched for a few minutes, amazed at how much I could see without being seen.

When a mosquito buzzed around my ear, it took me out of my thoughts. I waved it away and continued to the backyard. When I started to round the corner, I nearly jumped, startled to see someone else on the property. I took a step back and peered around the side of the house, watching as an adult man walked slowly along the row of bushes dividing Maggie’s property from the Adens’. He slowed toward the back, then pushed his way through the shrubs to the other side, disappearing from sight.

I darted out from my hiding place, following him all the way to the back of the lot. When I got to the point where he’d vanished, I peered through the branches. I couldn’t see much, but I heard Sarah say, “You shouldn’t be here. Someone could have seen you.” Then came the clink of a metal tool against a rock. It sounded as if she was digging.

He answered something about parking down the street, and after that, they lowered their voices, so I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. At one point I caught the name Phil, so I knew it was her physical therapist friend. Like me, he’d used Maggie’s yard to access the Adens’ former property. From the overheard conversation, it sounded like he had gotten some money for her. His voice was concerned, beseeching. He was worried about Sarah.

It was sticky hot and the mosquitoes were out in full force, making concentration difficult. I could tell by their voices when they were wrapping up the conversation, and then I clearly heard Sarah say, “I’m not going anywhere until I find that bomb shelter.” So I was right. She was trying to uncover the bomb shelter. I wondered what had made her suspicious. When they exchanged parting words I heard her saying something about quitting for the night and continuing tomorrow. When I sensed Phil’s movement, I vacated my spot, crossed the lot and returned to the side of the house. I kept an eye on the yard, and just as I’d thought, Phil came out through the same spot in the bushes and walked along the property line until he was past the house and out of sight. I moved closer to the front, and peered around the corner, watching as he walked down the street. Just as I had, he played it cool, acting as if he was out on an evening stroll, his arms swinging only slightly, his pace relaxed. I waited until he was long gone, and then decided it was time for me to go home.