"What's wrong?" Mrs. Bloodsworth asked, watching my face.
"My sister," I said in a faint tone. "She was supposed to pack a bag for me today and give it to Wyatt. He didn't mention it, so she might have been-"
She might have been mistaken for me. Oh, dear God.
Praying harder than I'd ever prayed in my life, I dialed Wyatt again. He sounded wary when he answered. "Siana was supposed to be at my house getting my clothes," I said rapidly. "Have you heard from her today?"
"Calm down," he said, his tone switching to soothing. "She's fine. She brought your bag over first thing this morning."
"Thank God. Oh, thank God." Tears burned my eyes. "I just realized... She's blond; she's about my size; the killer wouldn't know the difference between us." I was appalled that I hadn't thought of that before, and judging from the muttered curse I heard, our resemblance hadn't registered with Wyatt, either, at least not in that context. People who knew us would never get us mixed up, because we don't favor each other all that strongly, but on the surface, to the casual observer...
Because Wyatt was a cop, he asked, "Could Siana have opened your gate?"
I wiped the tears away. "I'll call and ask her, but I can't imagine any reason why she would."
"I'll call. I have more questions I need to ask her. I have a question for you, too: Is your security system set?"
I opened my mouth to automatically say, "Yes, of course," but abruptly shut it as I remembered the last time I'd been at home, on Friday, waiting for the rental car company to come pick me up. I'd waited at the door, and when the man drove up, I had bolted. I had a distinct memory of locking the door, but none at all of setting the alarm.
"It wasn't," I finally said. "Unless Siana set it this morning when she left. She has the code."
"All right. I'll handle things here. Stay calm, and with any luck I'll pick you up in a couple of hours. Okay?"
"Okay." I was grateful he hadn't lectured me about forgetting to set the security alarm. What on earth had I been thinking? Oh, yeah: the beach. I'd been in a hurry to get away.
The killer could have gotten in at any time during the weekend, and made himself comfortable while he waited for me to come home. Only, he hadn't. Maybe he'd staked out my place and, when my car was never there, decided I must be staying with someone. But if he'd gone back to Great Bods, he would have seen my car and then maybe figured that was the best place to wait for me, because I was sure to collect my car.
That plan had worked, up to a point; it was only by chance that I was still alive. What would he have done next? No, wait-he might have thought the plan had worked yesterday evening, because I'd hit the ground and obviously he hadn't hung around to check things out. He must have thought he'd killed me, until the news at ten told him otherwise-or maybe not even then. The hospital didn't give out condition statements the way it used to. The police would have held their cards close to their chests last night, until Wyatt had me stuffed somewhere safe-like his bed was safe, but whatever. The morning news, though, would probably have said I was treated at the hospital and released.
So what would be his next move? Maybe he was in my house now, waiting for me. Maybe he'd just been checking things out, looking for a way to get inside. The French doors were the best bet, and the privacy fence would give him concealment while he jimmied them open, or whatever.
That would be stupid of him, though. The security company's sign was plainly posted on my front window. He wouldn't have any way of telling whether or not the system was on, so he wouldn't chance it-not if he had a brain in his head.
I jerked out of my thoughts when Mrs. Bloodsworth finally got my attention, anxiously asking if Siana was all right. "She's fine," I said, and wiped the last tear away. "She packed my clothes early this morning, and gave the bag to Wyatt. He's calling her to see if she turned on the security system."
The odds were she had. Siana wouldn't have left my house unguarded, even if the system had been off when she arrived. So, since no alarm had gone off, my home hadn't been invaded. No killer waited there. He might have jumped the fence and tried to look in the French doors, but I had pulled the curtains closed over them and he wouldn't have been able to see a thing. Everything was all right.
I breathed a huge, mental sigh of relief.
"There's no telling what time Wyatt will get here," Mrs. Bloodsworth said. "I'm going to go ahead and start supper for us. If he doesn't make it in time to eat with us, I'll just keep things warm for him."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked, hoping there was, because it was getting kind of old just sitting around all day and letting someone wait on me.
"One-handed?" she asked, and laughed. "Other than setting the table, I can't think of a thing. Just come into the kitchen and keep me company. I don't get to cook all that often now, with just me in the house. There's no point, is there? I'll eat a sandwich for supper, and sometimes in the winter I'll open a can of soup, but food's pretty boring if you don't have company."
I followed her into the kitchen, and took a seat at the table. There was a formal dining room, of course, all true Victorians had them, but you could tell most of the Bloodsworth meals had been eaten at this very table. "You sound a little bored. Have you thought about rejoining Great Bods? We have some great new programs."
"I've thought about it, but you know how it is. Thinking about something and actually getting around to doing it are two different things. After my bicycle accident, I'm afraid I became a bit of a slug."