"Things have moved."

I walked slowly inside.

My father's chair was farther forward, as if he had pushed it closer to the television set, and the throw rug was askew.

"What?" she asked.

I sniffed the air. "Do you smell that?"

"No, what?"

"I'm not sure. I've never smelled it in here before." I turned slowly in a circle. "Someone's been here."

I walked into the kitchen and turned on the water. It flowed smoothly, telling me that someone had used it recently, since yesterday, when I'd visited. "Someone's been in the house."

"Does anyone come over here besides you? What about the neighbors?"

"No. Linda is the only other person with a key. And I don't think it was her. She doesn't like coming over here."

We checked the first floor, but could find no signs of a forced entry.

"These locks look old," said Caroline. "I doubt if they'd give much of a problem to someone who knew what they were doing."

I didn't mention that the locks were the same ones that had always been here. I'd changed nothing after Kelly died, even though Linda had thought we should.

We inspected the second floor, and I thought I could discern the impression of a body on my parents' bed, even though the bedspread was still neat.

"You might have a tenant you don't know about," Caroline said.

"I think you're right."

We walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen. The refrigerator was empty, but still, it smelled as if something, some type of food, might have recently been inside.

"Why do you keep the refrigerator on?" she asked.

"It's either that or leave it open, and sometimes I keep a cold drink in there when I come over and clean stuff."

"I think you should call the cops and have them take a look around. Keep an eye on the house. And you should definitely change these locks."

Well, duh, I thought, feeling tired and increasingly annoyed at each of Caroline's many suggestions. Hoping to taunt her, I said loudly, "Maybe we should check the bas.e.m.e.nt, see if we can catch them."

"No, I think we should leave-p.r.o.nto."

"No, I'll check it. I'll be right back."

She grabbed the back of my coat. "Don't you dare."

At that precise moment, gla.s.s shattered in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

"My G.o.d," she shrieked, pulling my arm. "Come on!"

Caroline sat at the wheel of Jeep, now parked a block away, talking on her cell phone to the police. "Yes, it looks like we have a break-in." She gave the address, which I had written down and held up for her to see. "We heard gla.s.s break in the bas.e.m.e.nt as soon as we said aloud we were going down there."

She ended the call, then turned to me. "It probably would have been better if you'd talked to them yourself."

"No, they'd know I've been drinking and might not believe me."

Caroline drove the Jeep to the head of the street and we waited for the police car to roll by. When it did, we followed it back to the house.

Lights whirling atop the squad car, two male cops emerged, slamming doors. We pulled beside them into the drive. One of the guys came over to the window of the Jeep and looked in.

"Thanks for getting here so quick," said Caroline. "She owns the house." She pointed at me.

"Best if you stay in your car while we make a search of the premises. Do you have a key?"

I handed it over and watched as the blue-eyed cop, fresh-faced and exceedingly cute, walked to the front door. "He was looking at you, Care."

"No, he wasn't." But I saw the corners of her mouth twitch into a faint smile.

The other cop, an older guy, had already gone around to the back of the house. For ten minutes, the two men searched, first the house, then the garage and surrounding yard. Finally, after several short trips to our window and more questions, not all related to the break-in, the cute one leaned up against the Jeep. "No one in there now," he said. "We found a gla.s.s jar, broken, down in the bas.e.m.e.nt. We'll take what's left of that back and check it for prints. How long has this house been vacant?"

"About two years," I said.

"Ever notice signs of anyone before?"

"No."

"Who else is allowed in the house?"

"My sister, but she doesn't come by, really. And my husband, but he never comes over here, well almost never, and my sister's husband. He might have a key too."

"I'd strongly suggest that you change the locks, get dead bolts, a better system. If the house has been empty this long, you might have a vagrant who thinks he's found a rent-free place to stay. It doesn't look as if the house has been disturbed too much. I'd also check to make sure one of your relatives wasn't over here and didn't tell you. You might want to think about renting the place or selling it too. Save yourself some grief. We will make a point to come by and check on things." He smiled at Caroline, who had managed to flirt with him and find out his full name, Nathan Tobias. "And I wouldn't advise coming here alone. Call us. We'll swing by and give things a look first."

He touched his cap, then both men got into their car and sped away.

"I've seen him before," Caroline said as she drove toward her apartment. "I think he comes by the Laundromat I go to every once in a while, but not in a uniform." She tapped her fingers to her lips. "G.o.d, the last time I was over there I looked like h.e.l.l. I won't anymore." She turned to me. "You have to promise me you won't go in that house alone anymore. Okay?"

"I promise."

"And if you do have to go over there, for anything, make sure you call me first. Got that?"

I was sober now, and quietly hating myself for being angry at my best friend, who was certainly a better friend to me than I'd been to her recently.

Chapter 9.

The drive was plowed by the time I returned home. I drove immediately to the Christmas tree lot and purchased a tall spruce, dark green and full, then paid extra to have it delivered and set up within the hour. Usually Trevor helped me buy the tree, and he'd offered to before he'd left this weekend, but I figured I might as well get used to doing things alone. After all, I might be forced to fairly soon.

I was in the middle of dragging boxes of Christmas decorations from the bas.e.m.e.nt when the phone rang. I dropped the box on the floor and grabbed the receiver.

"So where have you been all day?" my sister inquired.

"Oh, hi Linda. Caroline and I went cross-country skiing this morning, then lunch."

"Good for you."

"So what's up?"

"Oh nothing-except I got a message from Mr. I Spy earlier today."

"You did?"

"Yes, and he thinks he'll have something for us early this week."

"Did he give any details at all?" I asked, my heart picking up speed.

"No, but I'm sure there'll be lots of those."

I noticed an odd lilt to Linda's voice, a happiness that shouldn't be there, and wondered if she already knew something about the report. "So, he'll call when it's ready?"

"That's the plan."

I knew I should mention the possible break-in at the house, but I hesitated to do it since I knew how Linda would react-badly-but I couldn't have her going over there unaware of the danger.

"Caroline and I stopped over to the house today."

"Yes, and ...?"

"We probably should put new locks on the doors, make the house more secure."

"What happened?"

"Nothing exactly, but someone may have been in the house. Actually, I don't think so, but Caroline thought we should have the police check the place out."

"You had the cops over there? Come on, Gwyn, give me the whole story and quit tiptoeing around the truth."

"I am telling the truth, but before we both start jumping to conclusions, I think we need to be certain there isn't a simpler explanation. We need to be sure no one else has been in the house. Have you?"

She didn't answer for a moment. "No, not recently."

"But you have. When?"

"I don't know, a few weeks ago, maybe not that long."

"Why would you go over there?"

"I was trying to help you out. I was looking for those stupid boxes, the ones with Kelly's journals. The problem is I think I may have thrown them out, before, by accident."

"You what? You threw them out? How could you do that? You knew how important they were to me."

"I found them in a damp spot in the bas.e.m.e.nt. They were moldy, Gwyn. It was sickening. It was like it was her, all yuck and moldering in her grave. I think I may have tossed them when I was cleaning up. I didn't mean to. I changed my mind about it, but I threw out a lot of stuff that day and they may have gotten mixed in."

"But I wanted them," I cried, feeling sick, my insides doubling over on themselves.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I really am. I guess I shouldn't have told-"

I slammed the phone down, tears spilling onto my face. Thanks. Thanks a whole bunch, Linda. Thanks for always wrecking everything. You meant to do it. I know you did. You hated Kelly.

The phone rang and I let it ring until the answering machine began to click on, then picked up the receiver and slammed it down again. "Don't call me!" I shrieked at her. "Don't ever call me again! You're rotten, rotten, rotten!"

I realized much later that the house was dark except for the one security light burning in the living room. I slowly rose from the kitchen chair and flipped on the overhead light. The clock on the stove read nine p.m. The phone was ringing again, but I ignored it, as I had for hours.

I walked into the living room and stared at the unlit Christmas tree, so dark and depressingly dead. I stood looking past it for many minutes, my arms wrapped tightly to my chest, my fingers vice grips in my flesh. I'd cried again for Kelly, given the night over once more to my terrible grief, begged that the one I loved most be returned to me.

It would do me no good. I could plead all I wanted. I could curse, and scream, and pound on the gates of Heaven itself. It would do me no good. The Lord had taken away. He'd giveth and he'd taketh away. My baby wasn't coming back. I'd never be with her again-not here.

I had only one remaining fragment of family left. Linda.

I stooped to plug in the Christmas tree and it glowed with light. I opened a box and picked out a shimmering ornament, hooked it to an empty branch. I watched as the bright ball swung delicately on the limb. Some of the ornaments were old and cheap, relics from my childhood. Always before, I'd placed them all on the tree, no matter how battered. Now, I left the worst ornaments in the box. I wanted my tree to be truly beautiful again.

Still, when it was done, the tree needed something more, and I promised myself to buy new ornaments tomorrow.

And I would call Linda too, and forgive her.

I remembered how it had been, though I'd sometimes ignored the increasing hostility between my sisters as we were growing up. Kelly had not liked Linda either, though Linda had tried hard to fit in, to be a part of the group. Kelly had wanted to shut her out, but I-when I was around-always put a stop to it. No doubt there were things only Linda knew, times she had suffered, but held them inside. She'd been the baby until Kelly was born. Surely, the close bond between Kelly and I had been very difficult to accept.

I heard Trevor come home at one a.m., and I debated going downstairs to greet him. I missed him, but it was like missing someone I used to know. I wanted to ask him about the woman, wanted to get it all out in the open, wanted him to admit it or deny it, but for better or worse, let him know I wasn't in the dark any longer.

I wouldn't do it, of course. Somehow, the deceit might all be related. If he could have an affair with this woman, then he might also have had an affair with Kelly. And if I let him know I was aware of his true character, he might begin to wonder what else I might know, what else I might have deduced.

He turned on the light in the hall. I pulled the blankets up around my chin and shut my eyes. I could hear him quietly drop his keys on the dresser, hear him pulling open a drawer. For just a minute, I wished I could be in his head. Was he remembering delicious details of the woman's body, her kiss as they parted, their plans to meet again very, very soon? Why did he say he loved me? Did he? Did he ever?

He silently rolled in beside me and I tensed as I waited for his hand to come up around my shoulder, for his warmth to close in on my back. I loved the way he loved me, even now, unsure of him as I was. But he didn't touch me, and that was even more painful.

Chapter 10.