wears a watch whenever she goes anywhere. She’s ... she’s very punctual.”
Walker digested this information without comment.
The windows were shut. Heat pressed against the panes. The locks had not been forced.
Last, he checked the closet. Empty hangers, many of them. Nothing in the laundry basket.
Slowly he nodded.
Annie observed the brief incline of his head and was instantly alongside him. “Find something?”
He saw it in her face, in the wide green eyes and pursed lips—the desperate hopefulness, the intense need for answers.
This was when she expected him to make his brilliant deduction, prove his criminalistic skills. Do you see this speck of dust, Annie? It’s found only in the forests of southern Romania—thus proving that your sister was kidnapped by Gypsies .
Something like that.
He didn’t answer at once. He took a moment to peer into the back of the closet, where two items of luggage were stored. A carry-on bag and a large suitcase. There was a space between them where another suitcase, apparently of intermediate size, had stood.
“How familiar are you with Erin’s wardrobe?” he asked.
“We trade clothes all the time.”
“Can you take a look at what’s here and get some idea of which items, if any, are missing?”
Annie registered disappointment. This was hardly the stunning breakthrough she’d anticipated. “Sure. I can do that.”
He waited while she took inventory.
“As best I can tell,” she said finally, “three outfits are missing.” Puzzlement had replaced worry in her expression for the first time.
“Items suitable for spring?”
“Two skirts and, I think, a pair of shorts. Three blouses, all short-sleeve. Oh, and a pair of boots. I don’t see her robe either.”
“Pajamas? Slippers?”
“She’s got several pair of each. I can’t be sure.”
“Some things were taken from the bathroom also. Toothbrush, comb—toiletries. And there’s a suitcase missing from her luggage set.”
Annie sat on the bed, her features suddenly slack. “You’re saying she packed a bag and left.”
“Looks like it.”
The slow shaking of her head was oddly mechanical, a robot’s programmed routine. “She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. I mean—it’s not like her at all.”
He stood near the bed, looking down on her, the red curls thick on her shoulders, her hands steepled in her lap. “In my experience,” he said, “no matter how well we think we know someone, there’s always a surprise lurking somewhere.”
“Not this kind of surprise. Not with Erin.”
“I’m sorry, Annie. But everything points to the conclusion that your sister went away on an unscheduled trip.”
“Without telling me—or anyone? Without even leaving a note?”
“It happens.”
“But she didn’t take her Tegretol. Or her watch.”
“She probably has enough of the medicine left from the last refill of her prescription. As for the watch ... Maybe she bought a new one you don’t know about. Or maybe she just forgot. Or she wants to get away from schedules and deadlines for a while.”
“Schedules and deadlines are her life .” He heard despair in her voice.
Walker hesitated, then sat beside her. The mattress springs creaked, and the Smith .38 in his armpit holster rubbed against his ribs.
“Maybe,” he said slowly, “she needs a temporary break from her life. All of us do now and then.”
“She flipped out? Erin? ”
“That’s putting it a little strong. Look, Annie, it sounds to me as if your sister subjects herself to a lot of pressure. A place for everything and everything in its place. Never late for an appointment, never irresponsible, never out of control. It’s hard to maintain that kind of discipline day after day.”
“Not for her. That’s just the way she is.”
‘Then there’s this to consider. She’s a psychologist. The mental-health professions have among the highest rates of”— suicide , he nearly said, but checked himself—“burnout. Dealing with
Walker digested this information without comment.
The windows were shut. Heat pressed against the panes. The locks had not been forced.
Last, he checked the closet. Empty hangers, many of them. Nothing in the laundry basket.
Slowly he nodded.
Annie observed the brief incline of his head and was instantly alongside him. “Find something?”
He saw it in her face, in the wide green eyes and pursed lips—the desperate hopefulness, the intense need for answers.
This was when she expected him to make his brilliant deduction, prove his criminalistic skills. Do you see this speck of dust, Annie? It’s found only in the forests of southern Romania—thus proving that your sister was kidnapped by Gypsies .
Something like that.
He didn’t answer at once. He took a moment to peer into the back of the closet, where two items of luggage were stored. A carry-on bag and a large suitcase. There was a space between them where another suitcase, apparently of intermediate size, had stood.
“How familiar are you with Erin’s wardrobe?” he asked.
“We trade clothes all the time.”
“Can you take a look at what’s here and get some idea of which items, if any, are missing?”
Annie registered disappointment. This was hardly the stunning breakthrough she’d anticipated. “Sure. I can do that.”
He waited while she took inventory.
“As best I can tell,” she said finally, “three outfits are missing.” Puzzlement had replaced worry in her expression for the first time.
“Items suitable for spring?”
“Two skirts and, I think, a pair of shorts. Three blouses, all short-sleeve. Oh, and a pair of boots. I don’t see her robe either.”
“Pajamas? Slippers?”
“She’s got several pair of each. I can’t be sure.”
“Some things were taken from the bathroom also. Toothbrush, comb—toiletries. And there’s a suitcase missing from her luggage set.”
Annie sat on the bed, her features suddenly slack. “You’re saying she packed a bag and left.”
“Looks like it.”
The slow shaking of her head was oddly mechanical, a robot’s programmed routine. “She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. I mean—it’s not like her at all.”
He stood near the bed, looking down on her, the red curls thick on her shoulders, her hands steepled in her lap. “In my experience,” he said, “no matter how well we think we know someone, there’s always a surprise lurking somewhere.”
“Not this kind of surprise. Not with Erin.”
“I’m sorry, Annie. But everything points to the conclusion that your sister went away on an unscheduled trip.”
“Without telling me—or anyone? Without even leaving a note?”
“It happens.”
“But she didn’t take her Tegretol. Or her watch.”
“She probably has enough of the medicine left from the last refill of her prescription. As for the watch ... Maybe she bought a new one you don’t know about. Or maybe she just forgot. Or she wants to get away from schedules and deadlines for a while.”
“Schedules and deadlines are her life .” He heard despair in her voice.
Walker hesitated, then sat beside her. The mattress springs creaked, and the Smith .38 in his armpit holster rubbed against his ribs.
“Maybe,” he said slowly, “she needs a temporary break from her life. All of us do now and then.”
“She flipped out? Erin? ”
“That’s putting it a little strong. Look, Annie, it sounds to me as if your sister subjects herself to a lot of pressure. A place for everything and everything in its place. Never late for an appointment, never irresponsible, never out of control. It’s hard to maintain that kind of discipline day after day.”
“Not for her. That’s just the way she is.”
‘Then there’s this to consider. She’s a psychologist. The mental-health professions have among the highest rates of”— suicide , he nearly said, but checked himself—“burnout. Dealing with
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