“I don’t know,” she said. “But it’s one of my knives. From in there.”

She gestured across the bar to the kitchen area. I stood and walked closer to where I could see a small butcher’s block with knives sticking out of little slots in the top. One of the slots was empty.

“When did this happen?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I guess it could’ve been any time in the last day, but I didn’t notice it until just a few minutes ago.”

“Did you call the police?”

She let out a small sob.

“They won’t let me,” she wailed.

“They who?”

“The family. Derek. His mother. They refuse to involve the police at all.”

I looked at Sidra, realizing suddenly that this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to her.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” I said, leading her to a chair. She sat, crying so hard that she couldn’t talk. She began growing hysterical, but I took her face in my hands and told her sternly to calm down. That seemed to surprise her enough to swallow back the rest of her sobs and stare at me with frightened eyes.

“What’s going on, Sidra?”

“Things like this,” she replied, her voice shaky. “They happen all the time now. Someone wants me out of here. Someone wants me dead.”

“Why won’t Marion and Derek let you call the police?”

“They don’t believe me,” she said miserably. “They think I’m crazy, that I’m doing this myself.”

“What?”

She was about to speak further when we heard a loud pounding on the door and both jumped. I left Sidra on the couch and went to open it myself. It was the maid, Angelina.

“I am sorry to bother you,” she said, looking from me to Sidra, confused. “But the school is on the telephone for you, Sidra. Something about the bus.”

“Are the kids okay?” Sidra asked, her eyes suddenly wide with terror.

“They are fine. It is just some sort of delay. They want to speak with the mother or the father, but Derek is not home. So I came to get you.”

“Thank you, Angelina.”

The maid turned and walked away. Sidra blew her nose, tucked away her handkerchief, and started for the door.

“I’ll wait here for you,” I said, frustrated that our conversation had been cut short.

Sidra shook her head.

“I shouldn’t have bothered you with this,” she said, waiting until I had stepped outside to pull the door shut behind us. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

I hurried to stay with her as she strode quickly around the pool and toward the house.

“What about the knife?” I asked. “Don’t you want it dusted for fingerprints?”

Sidra stopped walking and looked at me.

“How would I do something like that?”

“I’ll do it. Let me have it. I’ll get it checked out for you. No police. I promise.”

She hesitated, glancing toward the house.

“You won’t tell them?” she asked, indicating, I felt sure, Marion and Derek.