Secrets in the Attic (Secrets 1)

"I'm not sure," I said.

Daddy came out of the garage.

"What happened?" Jesse asked him. "Zipporah makes it sound like they weren't appreciative. Didn't they think what she had to say was important to the case? Aren't they going to use the information she gave them?"

"Well, she told it just as she heard it from, Karen. They recorded her testimony."

"What do you think?"

"I think they have trouble with the story," Daddy said, glancing at me.

"Why? Why do they think it's untrue?" Jesse demanded, as if Karen were his sister and not me.

"For one thing, I imagine they've heard only good things about Harry Pearson from everyone they've interviewed so far, including Darlene Pearson. Other than Zipporah here, Karen apparently told no one, and Zipporah admitted she had never witnessed anything herself."

"That doesn't necessarily mean it wasn't true:' Jesse said, with more passion than either Daddy or I expected.

"No, it doesn't mean that, but it does mean that it needs more collaboration. Also, according to what your sister said she was told, Harry Pearson starts to resemble Norman Bates in Psycho."

"Maybe he did," Jesse said, without hearing any details. "You didn't really know him that well, did you, Dad?"

"No, but you don't know the rest of it."

"Well, what was the rest of it? What about Harry Pearson?" Jesse asked.

My father glanced at me again. "This is very upsetting for Zipporah, Jess. I know

she would like it all to end. She hasn't had an easy day since."

"It's okay," I said. I wanted the story out in the open now. I wanted the world to know what Karen had been facing and suffering.

"You want to tell him the rest of it?" my father asked me.

I nodded. "Fine, go ahead."

"Karen told me Harry Pearson wouldn't give up on his mother, wouldn't believe she was dead. He would go to her apartment at the rear of their house and sit by her bed and talk to her wig. It was on a head like they have for wigs. It was also made up like his mother made up her face, with lots of makeup, clownish."

Jesse nodded, his face thoughtful.

"So what do you think of all that?" Daddy asked him

"Who knows? It could have been true. No one suspected Norman Bates, did they?"

"That's a movie, Jess."

"All I'm saying is, could be."

"Did you hear what she's saying . . . talked to a wig, made up a head, and who knows what else? We're talking about the pharmacist, a man who had contact with most of the village residents."

Jesse shrugged, as if he had heard similar stories all his life.

"I don't know what's with you kids today," Daddy said. "In my day, a story like that would turn my bones to ice. Anyway, let's put it aside." He checked his watch. "I'm taking us all out to Frankie's for dinner. I've already told your mother, so clean up," he added, nodding at the paint. "We're going shortly after she comes home." He gazed around. "Nice job on the lawn, by the way."

"Thanks," Jesse said. He looked at me, and I dropped my gaze to the walk. "You did the right thing," he said as soon as Daddy entered the house. "Whether the police appreciate you and believe you or not."

I glanced up at the attic window in front. There was no sign of Karen, but I felt her presence as I would if she had been standing right beside me.

"I hope so," I said, and walked into the house. My brain felt as if it was bubbling in my head. What had Karen done all day while Jesse was there? What was she doing now? Was it possible she had been unable to get herself food and water?