Page 76 of Cold, Cold Bones
“Oh?”
“I last saw her on Tuesday. Now she’s stopped answering her phone.”
Ryan’s silence told me what he thought of that.
“I know,” I said. “It’s not that long and she’s a grown woman.” Mention the dream? Not a chance.
“Maybe Katy just needs some space.”
“Maybe.” From me? “It’s just that she said she was nervous about some guy hassling her at the shelter.”
“The place she volunteers.”
“Yes.”
“If it’ll make you feel better, swing by her house, perhaps leave a note.”
“And seem like a control freak?”
“Concern is not control.”
We discussed the boat and its dead owner. The insect life in the hotel where Ryan was staying. His sun rash. I told him about Boldonado.
“When do you think you’ll wrap up down there, island boy?”
“Soon.” Then, in a bad Bob Marley imitation, he sang, “I am going home.”
“Don’t do that,” I said.
“OK.”
“Thanks for the advice, Ryan.”
“Je t’aime, ma chère.”
“I love you, too.”
I didn’t go straight from the annex to the MCME. Following Ryan’s suggestion, I diverted to Elizabeth. Katy’s car was not in her driveway.
I rang her mobile. Knocked on her front and back doors. Peeked in her windows. Saw nothing. Got no response.
After banging one last time, I pulled out the emergency key Katy had given me and let myself in.
A jumble of mail lay just inside the door below the slot.
“Katy?”
Nothing but an eerie empty house silence.
“Katy?”
The refrigerator hummed. The heat kicked on. A floorboard ticked softly.
I moved from room to room, looking for signs of occupancy. Failing that, I returned to the foyer and checked the postmark on each letter. Curiously, one was from Charlie Hunt.
I scribbled a message, let myself out, and slipped the note through the slot. No point fingering myself for the B&E.
Anxiety is a powerful stimulant. Instead of calming my nerves, the empty house had made me jumpier than ever. Leaving Elizabeth, I detoured again, this time to the Roof Above men’s shelter. It’s where I’d picked Katy up the night of the blizzard.
