Page 73 of The House of Cross

We sat down. Mrs. Danvers looked like she’d rather be thrown out in the snow than talk to us, but she sat up. “What about them?” she asked. “Those folk weren’t real?”

I said, “They were real, Lucille. Bree is my wife. John is a close friend. They are both detectives. And the last place we know where they were was here two nights ago.”

“Oh,” she said. “There was a horrible storm going on.”

“We know, but there are no accident reports,” Mahoney said.“Mrs. Danvers, can you tell me what you talked about that night?”

She showed us the copies of photographs of her twin boys with their new family. “They said Ryan was dead.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“They showed me a picture they said was him as a man and I remembered him. They wanted to know about when he was here.”

“He came here?”

“Yes. I mean, I thought it was him,” Mrs. Danvers said, then appeared confused. “I thought he bought all my jam, but I looked and looked in our records. I couldn’t find Ryan Malcomb in the credit cards on Labor Day …”

Mrs. Danvers fell silent, staring at the floor, worrying the sleeve of her robe. Mahoney was about to say something, but I waved him off.

“You wonder,” she said finally, “about genetics and all and what gets passed on even before life has happened. You know what I mean?”

Ned said, “Not really, ma’am.”

“William Malcomb? My late boyfriend and father of the twins? His family had a history of mental illness. His uncle Tate ended up in the ward for the criminally insane at the state hospital after he killed a family up in Bonners Ferry.”

“You think a gene for that was passed to the twins?” I asked.

“Like I said, you wonder.”

“Ma’am, if it’s any consolation, I’m a criminal psychologist, and there’s no evidence that there’s a gene like that.”

“Oh,” she said, brightening a little. “Well, that’s good. I …” Mrs. Danvers looked confused again.

“Ma’am, did my wife and friend say where they were going next?”

“Salmon? I mean, I think that’s what they said.”

Ned got up and I did too, feeling sorry for her and feeling like we were spinning our wheels.

“Thank you, Mrs. Danvers,” I said. “We’ll be going now.”

CHAPTER 53

LUCILLE NODDED BLANKLY ATus, then seemed to focus. “I didn’t find Ryan in the Quicken. He didn’t buy all that jam last Labor Day weekend.”

Mahoney said, “Yes, ma’am, you told us that.”

“Wasn’t him,” she said, puzzled. “Another name, you know. All that jam, but I …” Without warning, she began to weep. “Whatever his name was, he’s dead. I only knew him for a day, and they said he was dead.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Lucille,” I said.

Looking forlorn, she nodded and wiped at her tears. “I have three daughters. Seven grandkids.”

“That’s a blessing,” Mahoney said.

“It is,” she said.

We wished her well, said goodbye, and went down the stairs to find Big Ed looking worried. “How is she?”

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