Long Lost - By Harlan Coben Page 0,35

I asked.

He looked up from his drink. "What?"

"You said they carted off the little girl's body. Did you actually see it?"

"It was in a bag, for chrissake," he said. "But judging by the amount of blood, there wouldn't have been much to see even if I looked inside."
Chapter 15
IN the morning Terese and I headed to Karen Tower 's house while Win met with his "solicitors" to do some of the legal legwork, like getting the car accident's file and-man, I didn't even want to think about this-figuring out how to exhume Miriam's body.

We took a London black taxi, which compared to the rest of the world's cab services is one of life's simple pleasures. Terese looked surprisingly good and focused. I'd filled her in on my conversation with Nigel Manderson at the pub.

"You think the woman who called it in was Karen Tower?" she asked.

"Who else?"

She nodded but said no more. We drove in silence for a few minutes when Terese leaned forward and said, "Drop us off at the next corner."

The driver did. She started down the street. I've been to London only a few times so it wasn't like I knew the area, but this wasn't Karen Tower 's address. Terese stood on the corner. The sun was starting to get strong. She shaded her eyes. I waited.

"This is where the accident happened," Terese said.

The corner could not have been more nondescript.

"I haven't been back here."

I saw no reason that she should have been, but I said nothing.

"I came off of that exit ramp. I took it too fast. A truck floated into my lane right around there." She pointed. "I tried to turn away but..."

I looked around as if there might still be some telltale clue a decade later, strange skid marks or something. There was nothing. Terese started walking down the street. I caught up to her.

"Karen's house-well, I guess it's Rick and Karen's house, right?-it's down the roundabout on the left," she said.

"How do you want to handle it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to go alone?" I asked.

"Why?"

"Maybe I can get more out of her."

Terese shook her head. "You won't. Just stay with me, okay?"

"Sure."

There were dozens of people already at the house on Royal Crescent. Mourners. I hadn't really considered that, but of course. Rick Collins was dead. People would come by to comfort the widow and pay their respects. Terese hesitated at the foot of the outside steps, but then she took my hand firmly.

When we first entered, I felt Terese stiffen. I followed her gaze to a dog-a bearded collie; I know because Esperanza has the same kind-curled up on a mat near the corner. The dog looked old and worn and wasn't moving. Terese let go of my hand and bent down to pet the dog.

"Hey, girl," she whispered. "It's me."

The dog's tail wagged as though it took great effort. The rest of the body stayed still. There were tears in Terese's eyes.

"This is Casey," she said to me. "We got her for Miriam when she was five years old."

The dog managed to lift its head. She licked Terese's hand. Terese just stayed there, on her knees. Casey's eyes were milky with cataracts. The old dog tried to get her legs under her and stand. Terese hushed her and found a spot behind the ears. The dog still twisted her head as if she wanted to look into Terese's eyes. Terese moved forward so it would be easier. The moment was tender and I felt like I was intruding.

"Casey used to sleep under Miriam's bed. She would get low and scratch her way underneath and then she'd turn around so just her head was sticking out. Like she was on guard duty."

Terese petted the dog and started to cry. I moved away, shielded them from anyone's view, gave them their time. It took Terese a few minutes to put herself back together. When she did, she took my hand again.

We headed into the living room. There was a line of maybe fifteen people waiting to pay their respects.

The whispers and stares began the moment we stepped fully into the room. I hadn't thought about it, but here was the ex-wife who had been gone for nearly a decade showing up at the home of the current wife. It would make tongues wag, I guess.

People parted and a woman dressed smartly in black-I assumed the widow-came through it. She was pretty, petite, and almost doll-like with big green eyes.