Page 99 of Unnatural Death

“Lucy said the collar and cat doors were working fine as she was headed out at close to fourA.M.There was nothing wrong with her computer equipment and programming then,” Benton explains as the kitchen lights flicker.

“Oh shit.” Dorothy wakes up with a start, and they do it again.

“Not a good sign,” I reply.

“With all the aboveground power lines around here you can guess what’s going to happen,” Benton says.

CHAPTER 37

STEPPING INSIDE THE PANTRY, Benton returns with battery-powered candles we keep on hand for ambiance and emergencies. He carries in a dozen of them, fat and waxy-authentic-looking with wavering plastic flames.

Switching them on, he places them on the table, the countertop, the kitchen illuminated like a candlelit altar. Beyond the pantry is the door leading to the cellar, and recently we installed one of the pet doors in it. Otherwise, Merlin can’t come upstairs. Benton tapes the flap closed.

“I’ll be right back.” He grabs a flashlight, heading down the wooden steps to deal with the door that leads outside.

“Be careful!” Dorothy slurs as the kitchen lights flicker again. “I don’t like this.”

The wind is picking up, rushing and whistling through trees. Rhododendron branches rap against the window over the sink, reminding me of the eerie wood-knocking I heard inside Buckingham Run. I get an uneasy feeling again as if something watches us from the darkness.

But the shades are closed, I keep reminding myself. No one can see in, but Merlin’s not happy either. He sits up in my lap, alerted by the tapping on the glass. He growls quietly, his tail twitching.

“It’s okay,” I say as I pet him. “It’s just the snowstorm, which fortunately you’re no longer out in, my little man. I’m so sorry that happened. But you’re safe now.” His sandpaper tongue licks my hand.

“We need to have a besties’ heart-to-heart,” Dorothy says from her seat at the table where she’s yawning and groggy. “I never thought I’d ask you of all people for marital advice.”

“I’ll try not to be insulted.” I reach for my whisky.

“I know Pete talks to you.” She’s barely touching her dinner.

“Not about everything. He doesn’t confide in me about your relationship. Nor do I want him to, frankly.”

“He’s sneaking around and thinks he can fool me.” Dorothy tops off our drinks, making a mess. “I thought something was off after he came back from that damn Bigfoot festival in Luray, something he’s never stopped talking about. And now I’ve had it confirmed.”

“You’ve had what confirmed by whom?” I wipe up spilled Scotch from the table.

“Janet. She warned me not to trust Pete. Apparently she’s always felt that way but is just telling me now.”

“And you heard from Benton that there’s something wrong with Lucy’s computer system and software. In other words, something is wrong with Janet. Or Bad Janet, as he’s calling her. That computer application isn’t to be trusted—”

“She confirmed that I have good reason for misgivings. She said Bigfoot is a symptom of thereal problem.”

“Dorothy …?”

“And the real problem is I give Pete the impression I’m looking down my nose at him and his interests.” Angry tears spill, her makeup smeared around her eyes like a raccoon mask.

“Dorothy …?”

“He secretly resents me because I make him feel stupid while crowding him. He considers me a nuisance, a tagalong.”

“Dorothy, you can’t listen to—”

“Which is a recipe for someone to screw around on you. That’s what Janet said, and of course she’s right.” My sister blows her nose.

“The software is corrupted,” I explain when she lets me finish a sentence. “It’s being manipulated. It’s malware talking.”

“Janet didn’t sound corrupted. She sounded just as she always does.”

“When did you have this conversation?”

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