"No, I haven't. But I'd like to. He's late on the rent."

"Do you know where he went?" Keely asked.

The girl shook her head, then tucked a piece of lank hair behind a delicate, round ear that was weighted with a thick hoop of gleaming gold. "Nah, but we're not exactly friends, if you know what I mean."

"They said he wasn't at work today," Keely said.

"He's probably back in jail." The girl looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Who are you, anyway? You don't look like anybody Wade knows."

"No, he . . . um . . ." Keely cast about for an excuse. "He found my wallet. I just wanted to pick it up."

"Ahhh," said the girl knowingly. She tilted her head back and exhaled a ribbon of smoke. "I hope you canceled your credit cards."

"Well . . . no," Keely said, the lie becoming more complicated.

"Pardon me for saying so," said the girl, "but you're not too smart. Did he want to make a deal with you to get it back?"

The smoke curled back into Keely's face before it dissipated into the night air. "Well, he mentioned something about a . . . reward . . ."

"Well, I think you can forget about seeing your wallet again," the girl said. She exhaled one last cloud of smoke, tossed the b.u.t.t to the sidewalk, and ground it out with the pointy toe of her boot. "He's probably off somewhere havin' a shopathon on your cards."

"Do you think so?" said Keely.

"You don't know him. Trust me," the girl advised her. "You'd better have those cards canceled. That's the last you'll hear of him." Then she sighed. "He's been nothing but trouble since the day he moved in here. There's an old guy who lives up stairs, Mr. Varbero . . ."

"I saw him," said Keely.

"Wade kicked a hole in his door cause the old guy asked him to turn down his music. He's constantly hara.s.sing him."

"Oh no," said Keely.

"Mr. V. is too scared of him to press charges. Of course, I was the one who rented him the apartment when my dad and my stepmother were on vacation. He came on real nice and sweet . . ." She shook her head. "He had me goin'. Then when my dad got back, he checked up on him and found out he had a record. Man, did I ever hear about that." She rolled her eyes.

Keely hesitated and then hastily scribbled her name down on a piece of paper and handed it to the girl. "If he does come back, will you tell him I was looking for him?"

The girl raised her hands as if to say that she wanted nothing to do with it. "Put it in his mailbox. Number three. Right there." She pointed to a row of rusted bra.s.s boxes attached to the wall. "It's freezing out here. I'm going back in," she said abruptly.

Keely watched, frowning, as the girl hurried back into the furniture store. Then she crossed the street to where Dan was waiting.

"What's the word?" he said.

Keely tipped her chin toward the furniture store. "That's where he lives, but they don't know where he is. He's late on the rent. She said he's unreliable-can't be trusted."

"I can believe that. What do you want to do now?"

"I don't know," said Keely truthfully.

She walked back to the car beside him, lost in thought. She climbed into the front seat and buckled her seat belt. Dan came around to the driver's side and got in. "You ready to go back?" he asked.

"I guess so," she said dejectedly. "I don't know what I'm going to do. That was all I had to go on."

For a few moments, they rode along in silence. Then Dan said,"Just tell me something. What did this Wade character say that he knew?"

"He said . . ." she hesitated, then continued. "He said he did see someone at my house the night Mark died, and he could identify them . . ."

"For a price," Dan said.

"For a price," she admitted.

"That seems a little odd-his claiming he could identify them," said Dan. "I mean, I doubt you two travel in the same circles."

Keely felt immediately defensive. "I just wanted to hear what he had to say."

"And what was the price for this information, may I ask?"

Keely lifted her chin defiantly. "Five thousand dollars."

"Five thousand dollars!" Dan exclaimed. "That's insane. You didn't agree to pay him that?"

"Look, I don't want to talk about this," said Keely. "He wasn't at work. He isn't at home. I don't know where he is. Let's just drop it."

"Yeah, well what if he turns up at your door again?"

"I'll deal with him," Keely said sharply.

"Why don't you just ask the police to look into it?" he said.

"Right, the police," said Keely bitterly. "Maybe I could get the district attorney to help as well. She was my husband's fiancee before he met me. I mean, she is intent on punishing us, just because of who we are. Dan, believe me, the D.A. and the police are trying to make my child out to be a murderer."

Dan shook his head. "Maybe there's another way to find out."

"What's that?" she asked absently.

"Phone records," he said. "The phone company has records of all the incoming and outgoing calls. Even local calls. Maybe if you could find out who called your house that night . . . Usually people call before they're going to come over. Or find out who Mark called. He might have asked someone to stop by . . ."

"I'm way ahead of you," she said. "The phone company claims not to have any record of local calls."

"But the police always get them."

"That's what I said. The man at the phone company said that the police had those records only if people asked for their phone to be monitored. Like for an anonymous caller or something."

"That doesn't sound right to me," said Dan.

"Me either," Keely agreed. "But the person I spoke to at the phone company a.s.sured me that I was watching too many police shows on TV."

Dan frowned and was silent for a moment. "What about a cell phone? They give you a record of all incoming and outgoing calls."

"I called the cell phone company, too," said Keely. "They told me I had to wait for the bill that included the date in question. I thought maybe I'd gotten through to the woman. I really pleaded with her to make me a printout and send it, and I thought she might be sympathetic, but so far, it hasn't arrived."

"You're on top of it," he said admiringly. "I just wish I could help you. I can see how tough this whole thing has been for you. Unfortunately, detective work is not my line."

Keely glanced over at him. "What is your line, anyway? You always seem to be home."

Dan smiled. "It's true. I'm a homebody. No, actually, I do computer graphics for my old ad agency. I used to work in Baltimore. Suits and ties and traffic jams on the beltway."

"Really?"

Dan nodded. "When Annie got sick, I had to leave work so I could take care of her," he said, matter-of-factly.

"That was good of you-to stay home with her," she said.

"She would have done the same for me," he said. His gaze was fastened to the road. "After a while, I got kind of used to being at home. Even after she died, I decided to work at home. Nicole was our only child left at home. She needed me to be there."

"I understand," Keely said. "You do whatever you have to do for your kids."

"Right," he said. He hesitated. Then he said, "You know, I can understand your outrage over the whole thing with Dylan and thedistrict attorney. I'd be outraged if I were you. It's just that this . . . Wade sounds like a con artist to me."

She folded her arms over her chest and stared out the pa.s.senger-side window. She could see the reflection of her own face in the darkness, elongated and shadowy.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but it seems as if this creep is preying on your misery. Of course, I feel somewhat responsible. My daughter was the one who suggested that you seek him out. But Keely, you're h.e.l.l-bent on finding this mystery visitor. Isn't it possible that you put the idea into Wade's head that it could be profitable for him to remember seeing somebody at your house?"

Keely's face flamed at his suggestion. She tried to remember her initial conversation with Wade at Tarantino's. She couldn't remember exactly how she had put the question. Was it possible that she had planted the idea in his head?

Faced with her silence, Dan continued gingerly. "The woman back there at the furniture store indicated that he wasn't the most honest guy in the world. Well, we know that. I mean, he's trying to extort money from you for this so-called information. Isn't it possible there isn't anybody else involved?"

"What do you mean?"

"All I'm saying is that maybe it's time to back up and look at the whole thing again. Okay, we know the police are wrong to suspect that Dylan did this on purpose. That's out of the question. He wouldn't do that. He's a good kid who's had a . . . load of things go wrong on him. I'm not saying you should give up, but isn't it possible . . . I mean, are you so sure that you weren't right the first time? Isn't it possible that Dylan just left the gate open by accident? It could have happened to anybody. A simple lapse of memory, and then, once he realized what the consequences were, it was impossible for him to admit it? I mean, it would be only natural for him to be afraid to admit it. Afraid you'd be angry."

In her mind's eye Keely saw Dylan, pale and covered with tubes in the hospital bed, his neck swathed in bandages. And then she saw his note, fluttering to the floor of her bedroom.I locked the gate."It wasn't Dylan," she said.

"An accident," Dan persisted. "That's all I'm saying . . ."

Keely felt her face stinging. Dan had seemed to be a friend, someone she might be able to trust, but here he was telling her she was crazy to believe her own son. "How would you feel if it was Nicole and she denied having anything to do with it?"

"You mean, do I think it's possible Nicole might . . . fib to cover up her part in an accident like that? A mistake that had such dire consequences? Yeah, I do," he said. "It's human nature."

I don't care what you or anybody else thinks,she thought. The car was turning onto their street, and Keely could not wait to get out and get away from him. She started to tell him to let her out at the foot of her driveway, but then, with a sinking heart, she remembered-Abby was at the Warners' with Nicole and her own car was parked in their driveway. She would be forced to go in there and pretend to be friendly.

"Keely, I'm not saying this to hurt you," he said.

She did not reply. She felt around in her purse for her wallet, then pulled out a ten-dollar bill for Nicole that she clutched in one hand.

Dan pulled the car into his driveway. He got out and came around to open her door, but Keely clambered out on her own, slamming the door behind her and preceding him up the walkway to the house. Nicole heard the car and came to the door, holding Abby. Keely walked up into the arc of the porch light, and Abby crooned with delight at the sight of her mother.

Keely reached for her and pressed the baby's warm, rosy cheek to her own cold face. "How's my angel?" she asked.

"Come on in," said Nicole.

"No, it's late," said Keely. "Here." She handed Nicole the money. Nicole tried to insist that it was unnecessary, but Keely pressed the money on her firmly. Nicole thanked her and went in search of Abby's jacket and her doll.

Dan came up to Keely and tried to look her in the eye. She turned away from his gaze. "Keely," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't say all that to offend you. That's the last thing I'd ever want to do. I just don't want to see you . . ."

Nicole returned to the doorway with Abby's belongings. Keely tookthem with a thin smile. Then she turned to Dan. "I really appreciate your helping me out tonight," she said. "Both of you. It was very neighborly."

Nicole smiled quizzically, but Dan's face looked pale. Without another word, she returned to her car to make the short drive home. The thought of spending another night, just her and the baby, in that huge empty house, filled her with despair.Don't think about it,she told herself.Stay strong for the children. That's all that matters.

33.

The ringing of the telephone woke Keely from a slumber so fitful that she was not even sure she had been asleep. She panicked when she looked at the clock. It was three-thirty in the morning. She grabbed the phone, her heart hammering, her mouth dry. "h.e.l.lo," she barked.

"Mom," an urgent voice whispered at the other end.

"Dylan," she cried. "What's the matter? It's three-thirty in the morning."

"I know. I had to call you," he said. "I don't want Grandma to hear me."

"Are you all right? Is everything all right?" Keely demanded.

"Everything's all right. I found it, Mom. I found the note." Keely's heart flipped over. She sat up in bed and gripped the phone, shivering in the cool room. The years fell away, and in her mind's eye she was there, stepping into Richard's office, seeing her husband lying on the floor, the blood spattering the walls. The disbelief rolled over her again, in a wave. Richard's suicide note-the answer to so many questions. Suddenly, she was afraid to find out. "Where are you, Dylan? Are you in the kitchen? Grandma will be scared if she hears you. She might think it's a prowler."

"Mom, she's asleep," he insisted. "Let me read this to you."

"Okay," she said. "Of course. Okay."

"Okay," Dylan whispered. "It starts out, 'My darlings . . .' "

"Oh my G.o.d!" Keely exclaimed.

"Calm down, Mom. It's important." he insisted.

"I'm sorry," she said. "For a minute, I could hear his voice . . ."

"Okay. Well, let me read it. But I have to tell you one thing 'cause I don't want you to scream. You have to know this."

"What?"

"They did kill someone. And the friend-it was Mark."

Keely felt her world careening again.