Page 97 of The Housekeeper

Chapter Thirty-nine

It wasn’t ourfather.

Tracy and I stood at the window, staring down at the street below, our bodies numb with relief.

“Who the hell are they?” she asked of the elderly man and woman standing in front of our house.

“I have no idea.”

“Are they coming here?”

“I don’t think so. No,” I said, watching the man take the woman’s elbow and lead her toward the house next door.

“Whew! That was a close one.”

“Too close. An omen. It’s time to leave.”

“Oh, come on,” Tracy said. “Two more minutes. We’ve come this far. I just want to find Mom’s rings. Her engagement ring is over four carats. And that diamond eternity band. Please tell me they weren’t buried with Mom.”

I pictured our mother lying in her coffin, her bare hands folded neatly across her chest. “There were no rings.”

“Thank God for that. They must be worth a small fortune, and they’re not doing anybody any good tucked away in some drawer.”

“Why don’t you just ask Dad if you can have them?”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” I asked, as she took a cursory glance inside the bedroom closet before crossing the hall to our father’s office.

“I don’t want him to think I’m greedy.”

“You’d rather he thinks you’re a thief?”

“He won’t think that.”

No,I realized, entering our father’s office, already anticipating another visit from the police.He’ll find a way to blame me.

Despite my father having been retired for the better part of the decade, the room was much as it had always been. An oversize oak desk faced the window, its surface home to a computer, a landline, and a crystal table lamp with an oblong black shade. A massive brown leather chair sat in front of the desk, the chair matching the cracked leather sofa on the opposite wall. A Persian rug similar to the one in the living room covered the hardwood floor. One wall was lined with built-in bookcases and file drawers. The room was masculine and somewhat forbidding, rather like the man himself.

Tracy moved immediately to the file drawers, opening and closing each one in turn. “Nothing,” she said when she was through.

“Can we get out of here now?”

“Let’s split up. I’ll take the main floor. You check the rest.”

“No,” I told her. “You’re on your own. I’m leaving, with or without you.” I promptly exited the room.

“Oh, okay. You’re no fun,” she grumbled, following me down the stairs and resetting the alarm before we left. “Is the coast clear?”

I looked up and down the street. “Not a soul in sight.”

“Where do you suppose they are?”

I shook my head. “Beats me.”

—

We found out four days later.