Free Sleepwalker by Wendy Corsi Staub Page B

occurrence—and her own vow to never break a promise to anyone . “But you know how it goes with my girls. In their eyes, Daddy can do no wrong.”
    â€œWait till they turn thirteen,” Randi says darkly. “Then nobody—including Daddy, but especially you —will be able to do anything right.”
    â€œTerrific. Can’t wait.”
    â€œYou know, it’s really too bad you guys couldn’t go to Disney this year. Or even Vermont. I’m sure not getting a vacation made all of this much harder on Mack.”
    â€œThat, and . . .” Allison trails off, not sure whether she should even bring it up.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt’s nothing, really.”
    â€œWhen people say that, it’s always something, really.” Randi leans forward and props her chin in her hand. “I’m an expert bullshit detector, you know. It’s my favorite claim to fame.”
    Allison smiles briefly. “So I’ve heard.”
    â€œTell me what’s on your mind.”
    â€œDid you by any chance hear about Jerry Thompson?”
    Randi, of course, knows who he is. She frowns. “What about him?”
    â€œHe killed himself in prison last weekend.”
    â€œReally? Well, good riddance, right? You must be so relieved.”
    â€œI am.” Allison absently uses a napkin to wipe a smudge of crumby paste, courtesy of J.J., from her hand.
    â€œYou don’t seem convinced.”
    â€œIt’s just . . . I don’t know, I guess I expected to find some kind of peace knowing he’s dead, but . . . it’s kind of the opposite.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    She hesitates, not wanting to admit that the news seems to have dredged up a whole new wave of paranoia, leaving her jumpy and uneasy the last few days—and for no conceivable reason.
    Now, more than ever, she should finally be able to put the whole nightmare behind her.
    â€œI guess it just brought back a lot of bad memories,” she tells Randi. “And I keep remembering how wrong I was about him. Kristina herself said he gave her the creeps, and I told her he was harmless. The next thing I knew, she was dead. How could I have been such a terrible judge of character?”
    â€œDon’t be so hard on yourself, Allie. You barely knew the guy. We can never really be sure what’s going on in someone else’s head, even someone we think we know well, let alone a virtual stranger.”
    â€œI know, but . . . even after she died—after I saw him there that night—there was some little piece of my brain that wouldn’t accept that he was the one.”
    â€œUntil he attacked you in your apartment and almost killed you.” Randi shakes her head grimly.
    â€œNo—not even then. I never saw his face, and I was so sure it was someone else . . . Right up until the police arrested him and he confessed.”
    â€œSerial killers are cunning. They fool people. Look at Ted Bundy. My cousin Mindy was at Florida State back in the seventies when he killed those sorority girls. She’d seen him hanging around campus, and he seemed totally normal.”
    This isn’t the first time Randi has brought that up.
    Allison shudders, remembering the horrific details of how Bundy crept into the Chi Omega house in the middle of the night to rape and murder sleeping young women. It was eerily similar to what Jerry did to Kristina Haines and that other woman, Marianne Apostolos.
    â€œMindy said no one ever would have guessed in a million years that the guy was a homicidal maniac,” Randi goes on.
    â€œI know, but . . . Jerry wasn’t like that. He was kind of bumbling and dim-witted and . . . I don’t know. What’s the point of even talking about it? It’s over.”
    â€œExactly. You can’t beat yourself up over one lapse in character judgment. You’ve had a great track record ever since, right? I mean,