I opened the door to the barn and stepped inside, propping open the door to let in the sunlight. It was a dark building, two stories tall, with an empty loft spanning half of the upper level. Along the wall to my left was a huge green John Deere tractor. On my right was an old couch with the same blanket I had seen spread across it the night before now neatly folded at the end.

It was just a creaky old barn, filled with the smells of dirt and mold and damp hay. Though I didn’t exactly know what I was looking for, I stepped further inside and began poking around among the tool boxes and lawn clippers, hoping that something might turn up. In the back of my mind, I was wondering if a little mischief had been the ultimate purpose of Judith’s meeting with Alan out here the night before. It was just a hunch, but as I poked around, I hoped to find a bucket with traces of the fake blood or perhaps whatever had been used to wipe the blood on the windowsills. But my search turned up nothing, and finally I gave up.

I exited the barn, sliding the board into place along the front of it. I realized that I had made an error in judgment last night by going to bed when I did. I should’ve gone into the main house, gotten out of my wet bathing suit and into some warm, dry clothing, and then come back out here to wait them out, to see what was on the agenda besides their little bout of hanky-panky. Now all I could do was wonder if their meeting here had been connected with the fake blood on Sidra’s windows.

From where I stood, I could see Nick in the distance, alone now, hosing down the back of the cabana, the red liquid pouring from the windowsills, diluted by the hose water until it ran clear. About halfway between us I noticed a tree house built high into a large oak tree. I decided that if it was sturdy, it might be a perfect spot for surveillance. Tonight, I knew, I would come back there and man my post, watching to see if any new mischief was afoot.

Without question, I wouldn’t be caught sleeping on the job again.

Sixteen

Traffic into the city was light, so despite all the delays back at the house, I still managed to arrive ten minutes early for my meeting with Duane Perskie, the local PI supervising my case. I took the exit for Independence Mall, then found a parking place nearby, right on the street—a miracle in Philadelphia, to say the least.

We were supposed to meet at the Liberty Bell at ten o’clock; Duane had said he had a 10:30 meeting nearby. I glanced at my watch, slipped some change into the parking meter, and decided I would just have time for a quick stroll around my favorite part of town before meeting up with him.