doorway. “It was that rude bitch, Barbie—excuse me, Mrs. Lippincott—who did that to my bed. We had a fight earlier and—”
Savannah hurried over to her sister and grabbed her firmly by the forearm. “That’s enough, Atlanta. You had a shock, honey. And I think you need to sit down somewhere and collect yourself.” She turned back to Ryan. “Do you have your cell phone on you?”
He nodded.
“Why don’t you call Dirk and get him over here?”
“Good idea,” he said.
“Who is that?” Mrs. Lippincott asked. “Who’s Dirk?”
“Detective Sergeant Dirk Coulter,” Savannah said. “He’s with the San Carmelita Police Department. We have to report this and have it checked out.”
Savannah looked back to the bed with its gory stain and at the offensive word on the wall. ‘Tell Dirk that he should probably have Dr. Liu come out, too.” she told Ryan.
He was already dialing.
“And who’s this Dr. Lou?” Mrs. Lippincott wanted to know. “Is he your family physician?”
“No,” Savannah said. “Dr. Jennifer Liu is the San Carmelita medical examiner... the coroner.”
Chapter
10
S ince Ryan had offered to guard the door to Atlanta’s room until Dirk arrived, Savannah decided to take her sister a comfortable distance away from the unpleasant scene. Believing that some fresh air would help, she led her out into the courtyard, where they found a wrought-iron park bench near the fountain with thick, inviting cushions.
Savannah had also chosen a spot where she could see the front door and would know the instant Dirk or Dr. Liu arrived.
“Are you okay, kiddo?” she asked her, putting her arm around her shoulders. The girl was still shaking, but she had stopped crying, and that was a good sign.
“Why do you think Barbie did that?” Atlanta asked. “I mean, I know we didn’t like each other. We were giving each other a hard time, but it wasn’t all that bad. Why would she put that horrible stuff on my bed?”
Savannah had a couple of theories running around in her head. And Barbie vandalizing Atlanta’s bed was only one of them. She wondered whether it would be wise to share the possibilities with Atlanta... especially if the other scenarios might be more frightening than the first.
“How could she hate me that much? It’s such a crazy thing to do,” Atlanta continued. “And where would she get so much blood?”
Savannah decided to plunge ahead, even if it might make things worse. “We don’t know for sure that Barbie was the one who did it. And we don’t know if it was meant to scare you or her. There’s a lot we don’t know yet, so just hang in there, honey, until we find out what’s going on.”
Through the glass French doors Savannah could see a bustle of activity in the gallery. Mrs. Catherine Whitestone-Villa had said good night and excused herself earlier in the evening, to return to her home, a lovely Spanish-style hacienda on the hill behind the center. But apparently someone had alerted her to the problem in the guesthouse, and she was on the scene, running around in quite a dither.
For a moment Savannah wondered why Anthony Villa hadn’t returned with his wife. But then she remembered the mention of children being tucked into bed and decided that Anthony had probably remained behind for their sake.
“Atlanta, sweetie,” Savannah said, torn between family loyalty and duty, “if you’re feeling better, I should probably talk to Mrs. Villa for a minute, just to fill her in on what’s happened.”
Atlanta nodded. “Sure, I’m okay.”
She didn’t sound nearly as certain as her words. Savannah could tell she was trying to be brave, and she respected her for it. Most people twice Atlanta’s age would have freaked out under the circumstances.
Savannah stood. “Would you like to sit here for a while, or would you rather come with me?”
Atlanta jumped to her feet. So much for wanting to be rid of her interfering older sister.
The moment they stepped into
Savannah hurried over to her sister and grabbed her firmly by the forearm. “That’s enough, Atlanta. You had a shock, honey. And I think you need to sit down somewhere and collect yourself.” She turned back to Ryan. “Do you have your cell phone on you?”
He nodded.
“Why don’t you call Dirk and get him over here?”
“Good idea,” he said.
“Who is that?” Mrs. Lippincott asked. “Who’s Dirk?”
“Detective Sergeant Dirk Coulter,” Savannah said. “He’s with the San Carmelita Police Department. We have to report this and have it checked out.”
Savannah looked back to the bed with its gory stain and at the offensive word on the wall. ‘Tell Dirk that he should probably have Dr. Liu come out, too.” she told Ryan.
He was already dialing.
“And who’s this Dr. Lou?” Mrs. Lippincott wanted to know. “Is he your family physician?”
“No,” Savannah said. “Dr. Jennifer Liu is the San Carmelita medical examiner... the coroner.”
Chapter
10
S ince Ryan had offered to guard the door to Atlanta’s room until Dirk arrived, Savannah decided to take her sister a comfortable distance away from the unpleasant scene. Believing that some fresh air would help, she led her out into the courtyard, where they found a wrought-iron park bench near the fountain with thick, inviting cushions.
Savannah had also chosen a spot where she could see the front door and would know the instant Dirk or Dr. Liu arrived.
“Are you okay, kiddo?” she asked her, putting her arm around her shoulders. The girl was still shaking, but she had stopped crying, and that was a good sign.
“Why do you think Barbie did that?” Atlanta asked. “I mean, I know we didn’t like each other. We were giving each other a hard time, but it wasn’t all that bad. Why would she put that horrible stuff on my bed?”
Savannah had a couple of theories running around in her head. And Barbie vandalizing Atlanta’s bed was only one of them. She wondered whether it would be wise to share the possibilities with Atlanta... especially if the other scenarios might be more frightening than the first.
“How could she hate me that much? It’s such a crazy thing to do,” Atlanta continued. “And where would she get so much blood?”
Savannah decided to plunge ahead, even if it might make things worse. “We don’t know for sure that Barbie was the one who did it. And we don’t know if it was meant to scare you or her. There’s a lot we don’t know yet, so just hang in there, honey, until we find out what’s going on.”
Through the glass French doors Savannah could see a bustle of activity in the gallery. Mrs. Catherine Whitestone-Villa had said good night and excused herself earlier in the evening, to return to her home, a lovely Spanish-style hacienda on the hill behind the center. But apparently someone had alerted her to the problem in the guesthouse, and she was on the scene, running around in quite a dither.
For a moment Savannah wondered why Anthony Villa hadn’t returned with his wife. But then she remembered the mention of children being tucked into bed and decided that Anthony had probably remained behind for their sake.
“Atlanta, sweetie,” Savannah said, torn between family loyalty and duty, “if you’re feeling better, I should probably talk to Mrs. Villa for a minute, just to fill her in on what’s happened.”
Atlanta nodded. “Sure, I’m okay.”
She didn’t sound nearly as certain as her words. Savannah could tell she was trying to be brave, and she respected her for it. Most people twice Atlanta’s age would have freaked out under the circumstances.
Savannah stood. “Would you like to sit here for a while, or would you rather come with me?”
Atlanta jumped to her feet. So much for wanting to be rid of her interfering older sister.
The moment they stepped into
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