Depth Perception Read Free Page B

for over a year now. According to the real estate agent, lots of people had looked, but not a single offer had been made. She supposed people just couldn't get comfortable with the idea of living in a house where a brutal double murder had taken place. Especially when the killer had never been caught . . .
    Trying not to think about that, she parked the Mustang and slid from the car. She felt as if she were walking through a void as she crossed to the porch and took the steps to the door. She knew it would be locked but tried the knob anyway, found it secure. Leaving the porch, she took the flagstone walkway to the rear of the house. The backyard was mostly wooded. At one time, there had been a path through the trees that led to the river a quarter mile away. She and Ward and Kyle had walked that path countless times-for swimming or fishing or just to watch the water meander through the forest. Nat could still make out the mouth of the path, but the trail itself was overgrown with tall grass, wild honeysuckle, and tangled kudzu.
    She crossed to the French doors. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached for the key in the porch light, exactly where the realtor had said he would leave it. He'd been more curious than disappointed when Nat had taken the place off the market. The realtor had asked about her plans, but Nat hadn't elaborated, she figured the less people knew about why she was back, the better off she'd be.
    The house smelled of stale air and mildew. Hardwood floors that had once been glossy and waxed were now coated with dust. To her right was the kitchen with its speckled granite countertops, glossy oak cabinets, and stainless steel appliances. Straight ahead the living room stood in the shadows of late afternoon.
    Nat hadn't set foot in the house since the night her life had been tom apart by violence, and it was bizarre being back now. She'd almost expected to see the place as it had been three years ago. Full of laughter and life and the dreams of people who'd been utterly certain the future held good things for them. But the house was as silent and hollow as her heart.
    Dr. Pettigrew had warned her against returning so soon. He'd told her that while her physical recovery had progressed better than expected, her psychological recovery could take longer. He'd told her that pushing herself too hard, too soon, could set her back. But Nat had already lost three years of her life. She'd lost her family. Her heart. She'd nearly lost her mind.
    Her legs were shaking when she entered the living room. Someone had draped the furniture with sheets, and for a moment the room seemed to be filled with ghosts. Annoyed with herself for letting her imagination run amok, she walked quickly through the room, yanking the sheets from each piece of furniture as she passed. Dust motes exploded as the sofa and chair and occasional tables appeared. She crossed to the foyer and jerked the sheet from the console table. She stared down at the glass top where some kind soul had placed the framed photographs facedown. And even though Nat knew better than to look, she remembered each photograph with startling clarity, as if she'd placed them on that table just yesterday. Kyle on his rocking horse when he was three years old. She and Ward on their wedding day, their faces young and beaming with happiness. Ward and Kyle in his fishing boat for Kyle's first fishing expedition. He'd been six years old and so kindhearted he hadn't been able to bait the hook...
    For a full minute she stood there. aware that her heart was beating too fast. Not wanting to shatter the equanimity she had struggled so hard to achieve, she left the photographs facedown and backed away from the table. Behind her were the stairs. Turning, she took the steps two at a time to the second level.
    Four doors opened to the hall. She started down the hall at a determined clip, opening doors as she went In the bathroom, she strode across the tile floor and flung open the window. The