Free Guilty by Lee Goldberg Page B

by large round glasses and she had curly brown hair that spilled onto her shoulders. She looked snug and warm in her oversize wool sweater.
    "Set her on the couch," Vanowen instructed, stepping aside and pointing to the two couches behind her. Macklin walked past her and gently laid Mordente down on the couch closest to the brick hearth, where dying flames crackled in the embers.
    Vanowen brushed Macklin aside and leaned over Mordente. Macklin moved back and watched. Vanowen opened Mordente's eye lids and examined her pupils, then yanked off the blanket and scanned her naked body, looking for needle marks.
    He turned away, trying to escape the reality of Mordente's inert body and lifeless eyes. She's as good as dead, he thought. I was too late.
    The smell of dry wood permeated the house. The smoke that had been spilling out of the hearth for years had been soaked up by the walls or, more accurately, the books.
    The house was a rustic library. Every inch of wall space was covered with books. The book-lined shelves reached up to the ceiling and overflowed with volumes. What the shelves couldn't hold was stacked up in discrete stacks in various corners and crannies of the room.
    "You did the right thing by bringing her directly to me," Vanowen said. "I don't think it's too late to help her."
    Macklin turned around and faced her. "You mean you can bring her back, break this damn spell or whatever it is?"
    Vanowen smiled reassuringly and, placing her hand on Macklin's back, led him to the door. "It's not quite as easy as that. I'm afraid it will take a lot longer to cure her than it did to hurt her. She will never be completely the same."
    Macklin opened the door. "When can I see her again?"
    "Soon," Vanowen said. "I'll begin treating her tonight." He nodded and walked out. She closed the door behind him.
    Vanowen sighed and put a fresh log in the fire. She heard Macklin's car drive away. The flames wrapped themselves around the wood. The dry bark snapped, spitting sparks against the black-charred brick.
    She warmed herself by the fire for a few minutes and, when she turned, Mordente was sitting up on the couch.
    Mordente's eyes were hypnotically locked on the dancing flames. Vanowen smiled.
    "Hello, Jessica," Vanowen ventured softly. Mordente stared into the fireplace.
    Vanowen sat down beside Mordente and put her arm around her shoulder. "Say hello, Jessica."
    "Hello," Mordente whispered.
    "My name is Raven." She kissed Mordente gently on the cheek. "I am your new master."
    # # # # # #
    Sunday, June 16, 11:10 a.m.
    Cory pressed the buzzer again and let her finger stay on it this time. She really leaned into it, putting her weight behind her index finger as if that would make the buzzer ring even louder.
    If Mom was home, the buzzer should wake her. The buzzer could wake the dead.
    "I thought you said you had a key," groaned Jake Henderson impatiently. There were four other girls, waiting to be dropped off at their homes, climbing all over his LTD Brougham, probably ruining the upholstery with greater severity with each passing second. Kids were worse for a car interior than rabid dogs.
    "I do," Cory whined just as impatiently. She did have a key. She remembered showing the key chain, which she had made herself in school, to Isadora Van Rijn. How could she have lost it between her apartment and Mr. Henderson's car?
    "Well, we can't stand here all day, Cory," Henderson said. "Let's go take the other girls home and come back."
    "Wait," Cory protested. She didn't want to have to spend another minute with Mr. Henderson. He was such a goon. "Ms. Shih will let us in."
    Cory pressed Ms. Shih's apartment buzzer. A young woman answered and Cory asked to be let in. The lobby door hummed and unlocked.
    Henderson pulled it open.
    "I can go in myself," Cory said. He's so dumb.
    "I want to make sure your mom is home," Henderson said. He didn't really give a damn, but he remembered Brett Macklin's call. If Brooke wasn't home, maybe he could