Page 83

EIGHTY-TWO

KNOTTY PINE HILL

Barbara flipped off the news as she drove toward Claire’s house. Worry screamed in her mind. Claire still hadn’t answered.

Terrifying scenarios of what might have happened to Claire twisted her insides. The twins were dead—had the killer murdered Claire too?

Tears blurred her vision but she blinked them away so she could see the road.

According to the news segment that had just aired, the police had found Claire’s husband Joel dead as well.

They’d probably already searched Claire’s house which frightened her even more. Where the hell was Claire?

Her anxiety mounted with every mile. By the time she reached Claire’s house, she was out of her mind with worry but determined to find her friend. If Claire was alive, she might know who killed the twins.

The house looked dark, her headlights shimmering off the road and the house, which was framed in shadows from the thick woods and tall pines. Crime scene tape encircled the house and was stretched across the front door. But the police must have been satisfied with their search so at least there wasn’t a police presence now.

She scanned the yard and property but other than the wind ripping through the trees, everything seemed quiet. Taking a deep breath, she slid from her car and walked up to the front door. It was locked so she headed around the side of the house searching for a window or unlocked door. Finally, she pulled a hairpin from her hair, jimmied open the back door and slipped under the tape.

Dust motes swam in the air, and she smelled an odor like burned bacon. She stepped in the kitchen, confirming that someone had been here. A frying pan with cold grease sat by the sink, a half empty pot of cold coffee on the counter.

She called Claire’s name as she wandered through the house. She’d never been inside here or any of the other women’s homes. In order to protect their secrets, they’d made it a point to meet in public or a private place and not to include husbands.

Nerves on edge, she searched the downstairs then the top floor, hesitating every few feet to listen for sounds of an intruder. A hollow emptiness swirled around her, and she was shocked not to find children’s toys or a bedroom decorated for the girls.

What in the world was going on? Claire had shown them photos of the twins’ adorable room but there were no beds, girls’ clothing or toys anywhere inside the house.

Curious, she checked the master bedroom and spotted men’s and women’s clothing inside. She recognized Claire’s black coat and the red boots she’d gotten the year before for Christmas.

Remembering Claire said they had extra storage room in the basement, she searched for a key and found it tucked into the top of the husband’s dresser drawers. If the police had searched, they must have missed them. She grabbed them then headed down the steps.

Shoulders tight with tension, she found the door leading to the basement and tiptoed down the stairs. The landing was dark, an odd scent permeating the space. She pulled a small flashlight from her pocket and shined it across the room. Nothing.

A sense of dread made her break out in a sweat as she crossed to it and inserted the first key. The door screeched open and she shined her light across it.

“Claire?”

No… the room was empty.