As she placed the call, she took a moment to acknowledge the rising dread in her heart.This wasn't a killer they could simply catch, and then the killing would stop.If he'd placed poison in prescription bottles, that was a different problem altogether, because they had no way of knowing when or where the next death might occur.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Samantha Harper pulled her car into the driveway of her sister's house, parking behind Linda's burgundy Toyota Camry.She sat for a moment, looking at the modest two-story colonial that Linda had called home for the past eight years.The neighborhood was solidly middle-class, with houses built in the 1980s that had aged gracefully.Mature oak trees lined the street, their branches creating a canopy that filtered the late afternoon sunlight into dappled patterns across the well-maintained lawns.
Linda's house was painted a soft yellow with white trim, and the front yard showed the careful attention of someone who took pride in their property.It was one of the few bright spots on a street that seemed to be barely holding on.The flower beds were weeded and mulched, with late-season chrysanthemums adding splashes of orange and burgundy near the front porch.A small American flag hung from a bracket beside the front door, and the mailbox at the curb bore Linda's address in neat black numbers.
Samantha grabbed the shopping bags from her passenger seat, careful not to drop the bottle of wine that Linda had specifically requested.They'd met for coffee yesterday morning at their usual spot, and Linda had been excited about Ben's homecoming, but also nervous about having everything perfect for him.She'd asked Samantha to pick up a few things: the wine for a small celebration dinner, some groceries for Ben's favorite meal, and a new comforter for the bed in the converted garage apartment.
The garage conversion had been Linda's project for the past month.She'd hired a contractor to add insulation, drywall, and a small bathroom, creating a private space where Ben could live independently while still being close to family.She’d also hired and interior decorator for the space, which Samantha had felt was a bit too much.But she wasn’t going to judge.Samantha had helped her shop for furniture and decorations, watching her sister carefully choose items that would make the space feel welcoming but not overwhelming.Linda wanted Ben to feel supported without feeling smothered.
Ben was twenty-two years old and had been in rehab for nearly three months.This time felt different from his previous attempts at getting clean.During their weekly family visits, Samantha had seen a change in her nephew that went beyond the physical improvements.He seemed genuinely engaged in his recovery, asking thoughtful questions about rebuilding his life and making amends for the damage he'd caused.He even had sponsors texting him to check in, and he was attending meetings outside of the standard rehab, making sure he didn’t stray.
Linda had allowed herself to hope that this time might be the turning point they'd all been praying for.
Samantha walked up the brick pathway to the front porch, juggling the bags while reaching for the doorbell.The porch was small but welcoming, with a wooden rocking chair and a small table holding a potted plant.She pressed the bell and waited, listening for movement inside the house.
No response.
She tried again, this time knocking on the door as well."Linda?It's me.I've got the stuff you wanted."
Still nothing.
Samantha frowned and pulled out her phone, dialing Linda's number.She could hear the phone ringing inside the house, but no one answered.Linda's car was in the driveway, and she'd been expecting Samantha around this time.It wasn't like her sister to be unresponsive, especially not today, when she had so much to prepare for Ben's return.
After the fourth ring, the call went to voicemail."Hey, it's Linda.Leave a message and I'll get back to you."
"Linda, it's Sam.I'm at your front door with the wine and groceries.Where are you?"Samantha ended the call and tried the doorbell one more time, holding it longer this time.
The silence from inside the house was starting to worry her.Linda had been anxious about Ben's homecoming, but she'd also been meticulous about her preparations.She'd made lists, checked them twice, and had been counting down the days until he could finally come home.It wasn't like her to disappear when she had so much to do.
Samantha shifted the bags to one arm and reached into her purse for the spare key Linda had given her years ago.She'd never actually used it, but Linda had insisted she keep it "just in case."She'd claimed that it was for emergencies or if Linda ever locked herself out, but now Samantha was grateful to have it.
The key turned easily in the lock, and the front door swung open into Linda's living room.The house felt still and quiet in a way that seemed wrong for late afternoon.Usually, Linda would have the television on or music playing while she worked around the house.
"Linda?"Samantha called out as she stepped inside, nearly dropping one of the shopping bags as she struggled to close the door behind her."I'm here with your stuff."
The living room was neat and tidy, as always.Linda had never been able to tolerate clutter, a trait that had intensified after Ben's addiction had brought so much chaos into their lives.The couch was perfectly arranged with throw pillows positioned just so, and magazines were stacked neatly on the coffee table.
Samantha set the bags down on the coffee table and walked toward the kitchen, thinking Linda might be in the back of the house and hadn't heard the doorbell.Or, more likely, back in that converted space she’d spent so much time in lately, wanting to make sure everything was perfect.
The kitchen was empty but showed signs of recent activity.A coffee mug sat in the sink, and there were crumbs on the counter next to the toaster, suggesting Linda had eaten something earlier in the day.
"Linda, where are you?"Samantha called again, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet house.
She checked the dining room and the small den that Linda used as a home office.Both rooms were empty.She could feel her anxiety building as she made her way upstairs to check the bedrooms.Linda's bedroom was empty, the bed made with the same precision she applied to everything in her life.The guest bathroom was empty as well.
She walked back downstairs, pulling out her phone to try calling again.As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she noticed that the door leading from the kitchen to the garage was slightly ajar.Linda had probably been working on last-minute preparations for Ben's room and hadn't heard the doorbell from out there.
Samantha pushed open the door and called out, "Linda?It’s me.”
The garage had been transformed from a storage space into a comfortable studio apartment.The concrete floor was now covered with laminate flooring, and the walls were painted a warm beige color that made the space feel larger and more welcoming.A twin bed was positioned against one wall, made up with new bedding in blues and greens that Linda had chosen carefully.A small dresser sat opposite the bed, and a compact desk was positioned under the single window.
But Linda wasn't admiring her handiwork or making final adjustments to Ben's new living space.
She was lying motionless on the floor near the foot of the bed.
"Oh God, Linda!"Samantha dropped her phone and rushed to her sister's side, falling to her knees on the hard flooring.
