The Blue Journal (36 page)

The bedroom where Elizabeth Knoebel died.

Coincidence? Perhaps. Was Wentworth's description so filled with detail that Colello found it unmistakable? Not necessarily. There was something more, more than the room. What was the something more?

Did Wentworth know her? If so, was he trying to provoke the others with his comments? Perhaps, but why? Was he challenging the others to find out if they recognized the scene? Did he want to know who else might have paid a visit to Elizabeth's bedroom?

And what of Colello's anger? At the time it seemed out of all proportion, but now Randi was beginning to understand. It had to do with whatever he knew about Elizabeth's death. He and Wentworth had also mentioned something about seeing each other outside the group a couple of nights ago. Was that discussion part of the problem tonight?

Randi sat back and took a sip of the cold wine, then checked her messages. When she heard Walker's voice, she felt at ease for the first time that evening. He said he wanted to see her again. And she realized that she wanted to see him.

She thought about calling to describe what had just happened, but what could she tell him? She could not divulge what was shared in group, even though she truly had no idea what had been shared. The only thing she had was a suspicion.

More than one suspicion, actually.

She stood up, looked around the small room, and listened to the quiet for a few moments.

Then she decided to go for a drive.

CHAPTER 44

Walker was watching television in his living room when he heard the knock. His first reaction was to check his watch. It was nearly ten.

When he opened the front door Randi said, “I'm sorry to bother you so late.”

He looked past her, as if he expected to find someone else there.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Of course. Sorry. Come in. Buy you a drink?”

“That'd be great.”

He led her into the living room where she sat on the sofa. He switched off the television and went into the kitchen.

“Highball okay?” he called out.

“Highball?”

“Something I call an American Tragedy. Jack Daniel's corrupted by ginger ale.”

“Sounds good.”

He fixed the drinks, came back and handed her a glass. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

She watched as he sat in his arm chair, took a swallow of the drink, and said, “This is good.”

“Goes down easy this time of night.”

Randi had another taste, then said, “Something happened in group. It's hard to explain, but I believe two of my patients have been in Elizabeth Knoebel's bedroom.” She took another gulp of the cocktail.

“Easy,” Walker said with a smile. “Don't let the ginger ale fool you, it's a real cocktail.”

She nodded. “Maybe even more than two of them.” She took another long gulp of the highball.

“I don't suppose you want to give me the names.”

When she looked at him he saw something in her eyes he had never seen before, something he couldn't identify. “I want to tell you, please believe me. I just can't.”

“How about I throw out some names and you tell me if I'm right?”

Randi said nothing.

“One of them was Thomas Colello?”

Her expression was all the answer he needed, but she said, “Please Anthony, don't ask me anything about it tonight.” Her look softened as she said, “That's not why I came here.”

“All right.” He took a sip of his drink. “So, you're telling me you didn't drive all the way over here to tell me that you've got something to tell me that you're not ready to tell me, have I got this right?”

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “That's right.”

They stared at each other for what seemed a long time. Then he placed his glass on the table, got up and sat beside her, not speaking, never taking his eyes from hers. He tenderly reached out and held her face in his hands, and then it all seemed so natural, so right.

The way they kissed, the way he slowly undressed her, the way they laid back, side by side on the couch, and kissed some more, until she reached down, tugging at his belt. He got up, removed his shirt, kicked off his trousers and pulled off his shorts. He slipped off her panties, she whispered his name, then wanted to say something else, but stopped. There was no need for her to say anything, not now.

As he knelt over her she felt as if she was falling backward, as if that was how she would give in to the oncoming pleasure. They kissed again, and she reached out for him and, as she stroked him, all of her remaining tension evaporated. He lowered himself over her and she helped guide him in, wanting it to happen before she could think, before her own fears got in the way.

They began slowly at first, then with a faster, more insistent motion that felt perfectly in time.

She had so many thoughts, but for now she pushed them away. She wished away every doubt as she surrendered to a sublime rush of sensations that left her biting his neck and digging her nails into the flesh of his firm ass. She cried out as her body arched, convulsed, then exploded. She was lost in recurring waves of satisfaction that washed over her as he drove more deeply in a final series of thrusts until he too was spent, and she had a final climax that left her weak and damp and filled with joy and confusion and the need to believe that this really was all right, that everything was going to be all right.

CHAPTER 45

Anthony and Randi awoke early, in his bed, the reality of the new day arriving for them even before the light of first morning broke. He stared into the darkness as she began to rouse herself into consciousness.

“You all right?” he asked.

She did not answer at first. Then she said, “I've never done anything like this before.”

“Which part do you mean?”

“Don't be funny. You know what I'm saying. Showing up here like this.”

“Uh huh.”

“I mean it. It's important that you believe me.”

“All right then, I do.”

She turned to look at him. “I mean it Anthony.”

“You know, I have this theory that when people do unusual things—and by that I mean things that are extraordinary for them—they're really just acting on their most basic impulses. What I'm saying is, those are the moments that actually define us.”

She studied him in the faint light of dawn. When he reached out, she allowed herself to be drawn against him. “You're truly a policeman with a philosophy for every occasion.”

“I'm a detective, not a policeman,” he reminded her. Then he kissed her softly on the lips. “By the way, I do believe you,” he said, still holding her close, not wanting the morning to intrude on them, at least not yet.

“Good,” she said. “That's good.”

When she paused again, he asked, “What is it?”

She smiled. “Wish I brought a toothbrush.”

Walker got up and found her a new toothbrush, then made coffee and they drank it in bed.

“It's not even sunrise,” he said.

“Good,” she replied.

And they made love again.

Later, still in bed, Randi was wearing his robe and Walker had pulled on sweatpants. They were laying on their sides again, facing each other.

“I really have to go,” she told him.

“Already?”

“I've got to get home to change. I have an early session.” She kissed him on the lips. “Okay if I take a quick shower?”

“Take a long shower, if I can watch.”

She smiled.

“Will I see you later?” he asked. It was not quite seven o'clock.

“You mean at my office?”

“Come on, you know what I mean.”

“You mean I'm not a policeman's one-night stand?”

“Detective, not policeman. And no, this was no one-night stand. At least not for me.”

“I'm so relieved.”

“Good. Now that we settled that, what about our other discussion?”

Her smile vanished. “I'll call you later, when I'm ready.”

“Good. And after that, I'll buy you dinner.”

“I certainly hope so,” she said.

CHAPTER 46

Randi was mindful of the fact that Nettie Sisson knew more about Elizabeth Knoebel than almost anyone else. She was also beginning to realize, as fear for her own safety was increasing, that Nettie might have similar concerns for herself. On the one hand, Nettie might be a suspect in Elizabeth's murder. On the other, she was a potential victim.

In keeping her early appointment with Nettie, Randi needed to balance her obligations to this sad, battered woman with a growing inclination to address the entire spectrum of problems that Elizabeth's murder was creating.

When Nettie arrived she immediately opened the door to that discussion, confirming Randi's basic assessment.

“I'm so frightened,” Nettie said as soon as she took her place on the sofa. “It's bad enough that I know things I shouldn't. What's worse is that I don't know enough to protect myself.”

“What does that mean?”

“Don't you see? I know who Elizabeth really was. I knew what she was doing.” She almost shuddered as she added, “I also know what she was capable of, but what I don't know is who killed her. I honestly do not, Doctor Conway. Isn't that worse?”

“Worse than what?”

“Than knowing. If I knew, I could tell the police. I could get protection. The way it is now, whoever murdered her probably believes I have more information than I do.” She sighed deeply, as if about to cry, but Nettie Sisson had used up all of her tears long ago. “Am I making any sense at all?”

Randi wanted to tell her that she was making more sense than she could possibly know, since they now shared the same precarious ground. “Have you been threatened, Nettie? Has anyone contacted you?”

“You mean other than the police? No, no, nothing. Not yet. I've spent the last two days alone, not even leaving my apartment. I don't know what to do.”

“What you need to do,” Randi counseled with less than total commitment to the idea, “is to live your normal life. There's no reason to believe anyone means you harm.”

“Doctor Conway, I have a good idea who some of these men are. Whoever did this thing to Elizabeth, don't you think they realize at some point I could be giving the police a list?”

“Calm yourself, Nettie. The police already have a list, and it's far more extensive than anything you could provide.”

Nettie responded with a puzzled look.

“The police know about the Knoebels' participation in the groups I run.”

“You gave them names?” Nettie asked.

“Of course not. They spoke with Dr. Knoebel, got the names from him. I believe the police had other information as well.”

Nettie gave an expectant look.

“I'm not sure what else they have but believe me, they don't need you as a source.”

“The diary?”

“You know about it?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know what it contains?”

“Yes,” Nettie admitted.

“You've told this to the police?”

“To Detective Walker.”

“Well, in a way that makes you even less important for now, which is a good thing, right?”

The older woman thought it over. “What about confirmation?”

“Nettie, let's put this in perspective. Were you at the Knoebels' home when Elizabeth was shot?”

She shook her head.

“Were you there at any time that day or night?”

“No.”

“Do you have any idea who might have been visiting Elizabeth that day?”

“I don't.”

“Then I think your worries are somewhat exaggerated. Which is not to say that you are not entitled to be concerned,” she added hastily, “but we need to keep our focus. I understand why you would react with fear in this situation, I do.”

Nettie responded with one of those expressions Randi had witnessed from her many times, a look that declared, ‘I realize I've got problems, but I'm not insane.' She said, “That's very helpful, Doctor.”

“Good. Now let's devote some time to your feelings about what happened here. And about your relationship with Elizabeth.”

A reluctant nod and another familiar look from Nettie, although this time it was not nearly as sanguine. It was an acknowledgment that it was time to visit that dark place again, whether she wanted to go there or not.

CHAPTER 47

Walker also arrived at his office early that morning, made some calls, reviewed his notes, then summoned Kovacevic. It was time to meet with the suspects they had identified, starting with Thomas Colello. Then they would work their way through the others on his list.

One of the entries in Elizabeth Knoebel's journey was almost certainly about Colello. The file was designated TLROT.DOC, which Blasko's code breaking had it reading as THOMS. That, together with other facts Walker had run down, made it clear who the passage was about. The chapter had a different tone than most of her other writing. He took a moment to read from the printed pages.

SEXUAL RITES
By Elizabeth Knoebel
NOTES FOR CHAPTER 14
Try a Little Tenderness

We had never stayed overnight together. Up to then our meetings had the hallmarks of a typical affair. A man's affair. Starting with drinks. Then dinner. Followed by sex. A shower. And then home.

This time we arranged to meet out of town and the result was a surprise, at least to me. The level of intimacy was heightened in part by the knowledge that we would have the entire night ahead, and in part by the tenderness he displayed. It was something I had not seen from him before, an interest in me that I had not expected.

We had certainly enjoyed evenings of wonderful carnal excitement before that. He was a man who knew how to touch me, how to be masculine without being rough. He would never rush anything. He was always careful that I reached my climax at least once before letting himself go.