Blindsighted (Grant County #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,17

as we have something.”

She gave him a funny look. “What time’s the briefing?”

He saw where she was going with this. “I’m not going to let you work on this case, Lena. You have to know that.”

“You don’t understand,” she said. “If you don’t let me work on this, then you’re going to have another stiff for your girlfriend down at the morgue.”

6

Lena banged her fist on the front door of her sister’s house. She was about to go back to her car and get her spare set of keys when Nan Thomas opened the door.

Nan was shorter than Lena and about ten pounds heavier. Her short mousy brown hair and thick glasses made her resemble the prototypical librarian that she was.

Nan’s eyes were swollen and puffy, fresh tears still streaking down her cheeks. She held a balled-up piece of tissue in her hand.

Lena said, “I guess you heard.”

Nan turned, walking back into the house, leaving the door open for Lena. The two women had never gotten along. Except for the fact that Nan Thomas was Sibyl’s lover, Lena would not have said two words to her.

The house was a bungalow built in the 1920s. Much of the original architecture had been left in place, from the hardwood floors to the simple molding lining the doorways. The front door opened into a large living room with a fireplace at one end and the dining room at the other. Off this was the kitchen. Two small bedrooms and a bath finished the simple plan.

Lena walked purposefully down the hallway. She opened the first door on the right, entering the bedroom that had been turned into Sibyl’s study. The room was neat and orderly, mostly by necessity. Sibyl was blind, things had to be put in their place or she would not be able to find them. Braille books were stacked neatly on the shelves. Magazines, also in Braille, were lined up on the coffee table in front of an old futon. A computer sat on the desk lining the far wall. Lena was turning it on when Nan walked into the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I need to go through her things.”

“Why?” Nan asked, going over to the desk. She put her hand over the keyboard, as if she could stop Lena.

“I need to see if anything was strange, if anyone was following her.”

“You think you’ll find it in here?” Nan demanded, picking up the keyboard. “She only used this for school. You don’t even understand the voice recognition software.”

Lena grabbed the keyboard back. “I’ll figure it out.”

“No, you won’t,” Nan countered. “This is my house, too.”

Lena put her hands on her hips, walking toward the center of the room. She spotted a stack of papers beside an old Braille typewriter. Lena picked them up, turning to Nan. “What’s this?”

Nan ran over, grabbing the papers. “It’s her diary.”

“Can you read it?”

“It’s her personal diary,” Nan repeated, aghast. “These are her private thoughts.”

Lena chewed her bottom lip, trying for a softer tactic. That she had never liked Nan Thomas was not exactly a secret in this house. “You can read Braille, right?”

“Some.”

“You need to tell me what this says, Nan. Somebody killed her.” Lena tapped the pages. “Maybe she was being followed. Maybe she was scared of something and didn’t want to tell us.”

Nan turned away, her head tilted down toward the pages. She ran her fingers along the top line of dots, but Lena could tell she wasn’t reading it. For some reason, Lena got the impression she was touching the pages because Sibyl had, as if she could absorb some sense of Sibyl rather than just words.

Nan said, “She always went to the diner on Mondays. It was her time out to do something on her own.”

“I know.”

“We were supposed to make burritos tonight.” Nan stacked the papers against the desk. “Do what you need to do,” she said. “I’ll be in the living room.”

Lena waited for her to leave, then continued the task at hand. Nan was right about the computer. Lena did not know how to use the software, and Sibyl had only used it for school. Sibyl dictated into the computer what she needed, and her teaching assistant made sure copies were made.

The second bedroom was slightly larger than the first. Lena stood in the doorway, taking in the neatly made bed. A stuffed Pooh bear was tucked between the pillows. Pooh was old, balding in places. Sibyl had rarely been without him throughout her childhood, and