You’re the writer, not me.

“Some friend you turned out to be.”

But Murphy didn’t reply, and Annie knew she was gone. Again.

With a lingering sigh, she sat at the table, set down the thermos, opened her laptop, and got to work.

At first, the writing was slow and labored, her thoughts bouncing from Donna and the sudden way she’d decided she needed a “home companion”; to the skull and its pending peril for them all; to Kevin, Lucy, Jonas, John. Even Taylor. No matter how hard Annie tried to focus on her novel, she couldn’t unwind. She growled. She snarled. Then suddenly, a title flashed into her mind: Bedlam in the Blue Room.

Perfect, she thought she heard Murphy agree.

Annie went back to page one and inserted the new words that were so simple, it was annoying she hadn’t thought of them sooner. Then she returned to the page where she’d left off and moved fluidly into the writing zone, her fingers skating over the keys as if they were as lightning-quick as Lucy’s, and as if she’d known all along what the next chapter would reveal.

Several hours passed until late afternoon started to turn to dusk, and the chill inside the cottage began to permeate her bones. Annie finally snapped out of her daydream and realized it was past time to check on Donna. Glancing one last time at the screen, she saw that she’d typed fifteen pages while hardly paying attention. On rare days when a miracle like that occurred, she was reassured that leaving her third grade students had been the right thing to do.

But reality was calling. She checked her phone: no calls, though surely someone must have wondered where she’d gone. Especially since her Jeep still stood in the driveway next door, which, unlike her, was where it belonged.

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

“It’s open,” Earl’s voice unexpectedly responded when Annie knocked on the cottage door.

Stepping inside, she was greeted by Restless, his tail wagging so fiercely that his rear end jerked back and forth. She bent down and patted his head, scratched his ears, and said, “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She slipped out of her sneakers, revealing her old socks.

“Lucy brought him for a visit,” Donna said from the rocking chair, as Lucy emerged from the bathroom.

“And I stopped by to get this young lady home in time to do her homework,” Earl added as he leaned, arms folded, against the refrigerator.

Annie glanced back at Donna, who looked rested. Her cheeks had a nice pink color as if she’d never been ill. Restless scooted over and settled at Donna’s feet as if that was where he’d been stationed when Annie had opened the door. It made for a sweet tableau.

“Did you have a nice visit?” she asked Donna.

“We did. Lucy brought us homemade date nut bread. And this little guy’s a gem.” She leaned down and ran a hand gently across the dog. “I love dogs. We never had one, though. Kevin is allergic.”