The Mystery Man of Whitehorse. B.J. Daniels

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СКАЧАТЬ and got them probation. The judge had insisted they come home and live with her so they could begin to heal. Arlene wasn’t sure that’s what had been going on at the house, though.

      Bo stayed in his room listening to that horrible music and barely had a civil word for her, except late at night when he went out doing who knew what. Charlotte, restricted from going into town on Saturday nights because of those other unfortunate incidents involving strange men, hung around the house and ate.

      Half the time, Arlene couldn’t stand the sight of her own children. Now there was an episode for the talk shows.

      The only way she’d been able to stay sane was to concentrate on her business. Her Internet rural dating business had taken off after she’d been interviewed on one of the national morning TV shows. But many locals were still wary of the Internet. She’d been forced to remove some people’s profiles who hadn’t asked to be put on her Web page. The ingratitude of people still amazed her.

      Like the Cavanaughs. The whole bunch of them blamed Bo for Maddie’s problems. All Arlene could say was good riddance to that one, too. She hated to think what Bo’s life would have been like if he’d married that girl.

      Arlene couldn’t believe the injustice in the world. That’s probably why, when she got to the point that she found herself finding fault with Charlotte and Bo, she would turn all her anger and frustration on the one person who really deserved it—her oldest daughter, Violet. On the fast track to thirty-five and insane, Violet had little chance of ever getting married now. And wasn’t it just like everyone to blame the mother for it.

      “I’d love to give Violet a piece of my mind,” Arlene said as she left the mental hospital, tires spitting gravel. She’d even hired a lawyer, but the hospital hadn’t budged, saying that it would not be in Violet’s best interest to see her mother. As if Arlene gave a fig about Violet’s best interest.

      Did Violet appreciate all the years Arlene had labored tirelessly to try to get her married off? No. How did Violet pay her back? She’d tried to kill her own mother and had drawn in her younger sister and brother as accomplices.

      “Sometimes I just don’t know why I try,” Arlene said and sighed as she drove toward Old Town Whitehorse. Beside her, Charlotte pulled a candy bar from her jacket pocket, at least her third this morning.

      “Watch where you’re going!” Charlotte yelled as the car almost went off the road. “What is your problem?”

      Arlene got the car back on the road and looked over at her daughter again. She’d never noticed before how much Charlotte was beginning to resemble her sister Violet.

      BACK AT THE HOSPITAL, Violet Evans felt the drool run down her chin but didn’t move a muscle to stop it.

      “Violet?”

      She stared into nothingness, her eyes glazed over, her mind miles away. Miles away in Old Town Whitehorse.

      “Violet, can you hear me?”

      The doctors called her condition a “semicatatonic state.” She’d been like this ever since she’d been brought to the mental hospital after admitting to trying to kill her mother. It was a textbook-classic case, she’d heard the doctors say and had to suppress the urge to laugh.

      It should be textbook-classic; that’s where she’d found the symptoms for the condition. Lately, though, the doctors had noticed that she was starting to come out of it.

      Violet loved fooling with them. One day soon she would come out of it, all right. She wouldn’t remember anything. When they told her about her crimes, she would be shocked, feel incredible remorse for the misery she’d caused and find it almost unbearable.

      There would be suspicion with her apparent confusion about where she’d been, what she’d done. There would be more psychiatric tests, but finally they would have to release her back into society. They would have to since she’d clearly been sick when she’d tried to kill her own mother. And soon she would be well.

      But for now, Violet Evans saw nothing, felt nothing, was nothing. At least on the surface. Her mind worked 24-7, planning and plotting for the day when she would walk out the front door of the hospital a free woman.

      Inside, she smiled to herself. It wouldn’t be long now. Soon she would be free. Only this time she would be much smarter. This time she wouldn’t get caught. Nor was she just going to finish the job she’d started. That was the problem with too much time to think—it made you realize there were a lot of people you wouldn’t mind seeing dead.

      THE PHONE RANG THE minute Laci hung up from talking with her cousin. She smiled as she picked up the receiver, sure it was Maddie calling her back.

      “What did you forget to tell me?” she said without bothering to say hello.

      Silence.

      “Maddie?”

      No answer.

      She checked the caller ID. Blocked. Her heart began to pound as she recognized the faint sound of someone breathing on the other end of the line.

      She told herself there was nothing to be frightened about. It was just a bad connection. Then why could she hear the breathing just fine? “Hello?”

      Still no answer.

      “What do you want?” she demanded into the phone.

      The caller hung up with a click.

      Her heart drummed in her chest as she tried to convince herself it was just a wrong number. She hung up and hit star-6-9.

      The recording confirmed that the phone number could not be accessed.

      She hung up, telling herself she was overreacting. As usual. But now she was spooked, the call feeling like an omen.

       Chapter Three

      At the sound of a car, Laci wandered into the living room, still feeling under the weather. And while she was relieved about Maddie, she couldn’t get Alyson out of her mind. Or the strange phone call.

      One of Alyson’s bridesmaids, a younger friend they’d both grown up with, trotted up the front steps.

      Laci opened the door, glad to see McKenna Bailey. McKenna, all cowgirl, was dressed in jeans, western shirt, boots and a straw western hat pulled down over her blond hair.

      “I guess I don’t need to ask how you’re feeling,” McKenna said with a laugh. “I couldn’t believe you last night. I’ve never seen you drink that much.”

      Which could partly explain why she felt so horrible. But she knew the perfect cure of whatever ailed her.

      “Pancakes,” Laci said drawing McKenna into the kitchen.

      “Pancakes? You can’t be serious,” McKenna said as she took off her cowboy hat and set it on the stool next to her at the breakfast bar.

      “Pumpkin pancakes.” As Laci whipped up the batter, she began to feel better. Cooking always did that for her. McKenna talked about the wedding ceremony, the food at the reception—the town women had insisted on doing a potluck, almost СКАЧАТЬ