Free Chill Waters by Joan Hall Hovey Page A

just didn’t want you to hear it on the news…”
     
     
     
     
     
    Thirteen
     
     
     
     
     
    The knocking grew more insistent. Whoever was out there wasn’t planning on going away.
     
    I have no phone. I can’t even call for help.
     
    Thunder rumbled and cracked around her. She thought about the sirens, now silent. Perhaps someone other than herself was in need of help. The storm was a bad one; maybe there’d been an accident. She took a single, tentative step forward. “Who’s there?” she called out, keeping her voice calm, even.
     
    “Rach, it’s me. For God’s sake, let me in before I drown out here.”
     
    With a mixture of relief and astonishment, Rachael quickly opened the door to her soggy, yet still glamorous friend standing in her doorway, the hood of her raincoat drawn up over her head.
     
    The lights came back on as Betty was apologizing for showing up in the middle of the night, explaining that she’d gotten lost trying to find her way here. “I drove miles out of my way,” she said.
     
    “I got lost myself on the way here,” Rachael said. “Easy to do. It’s great to see you, Betty. Please stop apologizing and come in.”
     
    Ten minutes later they were sitting in Rachael’s kitchen over coffee and Betty was relating the events of her summer sale. “They ripped every last scrap of clothing from the hangers,” she said in mock complaint. “How women do love a sale.”
     
    Rachael laughed dutifully, knowing that Betty was doing her best to cheer her up. No surprise to her that the lights had come on the second Rachael opened the door to her. How attractive she looked in her bronze silk shirt, the brown suede skirt ending at mid-calf. Her lips and nails were painted in the same shade of bronze, her short red hair worn sleek and saucy, freckles expertly hidden beneath makeup. Her spicy perfume scented the air. Betty was the epitome of the successful career woman.
     
    When they were kids, Betty once said that Rachael was like black and white TV while she was like color TV. Not a bad analogy, now that she thought of it. Betty had exhibited more than the usual teenage interest in makeup and fashion. And she was smart. Not so surprising that she would end up owning her own dress boutique. They were an unlikely pair.
     
    “This road must be the darkest, scariest one I’ve ever driven on,” Betty said, changing the subject. “I kept expecting some hideous thing to come shambling out of the bay, dripping in seaweed.”
     
    “You have an overactive imagination,” Rachel said.
     
    “Yeah, maybe. But it didn’t help hearing about that poor girl being murdered in her hospital bed.”
     
    “What girl?”
     
    “They didn’t give the name. But apparently she was a victim of assault, which was why she was in there in the first place. Guess the guy came back tonight to finish the job. Didn’t you hear the police sirens.”
     
    “Yes. I did.” A memory nudged Rachael. She pushed it back. “How horrible. Betty, Can I get you something to eat a sandwich?”
     
    “No, thanks. I had a greasy cheeseburger at a truck stop earlier. It’s still with me, probably will be till Christmas. Come, sit down, Rachael. Stop fussing. And more to the point, when was the last time you ate? You look like hell, if you don’t mind my saying so. You’ve lost more weight.” She looked deeply at her. “I’ve been worried about you, Rach.”
     
    “I’m okay. I just need some time.” One more word or gesture of sympathy and she would come apart. “Are you cold, Betty? You just have that thin blouse on. I’ll put more wood on the fire. We can set in there, if you like.”
     
    “I’m fine, honey. But whatever you want.”
     
    Rachael’s next words tumbled out in a rush. “He tried to lie his way out of it at first, you know. But I knew he was relieved to have it out in the open.” Pain rose like a fist in her chest. “He told me Lisa saw me that day I drove to the office. She