The Case of the Red-Handed Rhesus (A Rue and Lakeland Mystery) Read Free

operated, had poisoned her own twin sister. Gert was alive, but her health was far less stable.
    Natasha was the only one with any idea of what Gary was capable of at that time. And he’d terrified her into silence. She had spent four, nearly five years trapped by him, not even completely escaping when her mother’s death from a drug overdose allowed her grandparents to adopt her over the protests of her mother’s boyfriend, who turned out not to be her father at all. With Gary dead and the majority of the people who had hurt her in federal custody, Tash had finally developed a sense of empowerment in our care. She recognized and was willing to identify many of the guilty parties.
    But that, too, took a toll. Because she was a minor, she would be providing taped testimony for several trials, not taking the stand. But she had not yet done so, making it even more difficult for her to move beyond the things that terrorized her. She took a veritable pharmacy of anti-anxiety medications to get through each day. And our old backyard had too many dark shadows.
    When we realized how badly injured Gert and Stan were, and that Natasha had nowhere to go with her grandparents disabled, we impulsively invited her to stay with us. I thought Lance was motivated purely by sympathy. But it was more personal for me. I knew a little more about what she had been through, once having been sucked into an abusive relationship myself, and I hoped I could reach her where another might not be able to do so.
    After Stan bought us the house, we didn’t do anything at all for two days, as our workload at the sanctuary, where Lance and I shared management duties, was heavy this time of year. We didn’t have summer interns from Ironweed University, like we did the rest of the year, and many of our long-term volunteers were vacationing. Natasha provided a highly useful pair of hands. We all left for work early in the morning and came home exhausted each night, making a perfect excuse to avoid talking about Stan’s latest purchase.
    But on the third morning, when the sound of a tree branch scraping against the house had kept Natasha up most of the previous night, the topic became unavoidable. “We should consider going,” I told Lance. “For now, anyway. I’m afraid out here at night, too, these days.” After all, I wouldn’t have known Natasha was awake and frightened if the same noise that troubled her hadn’t also pulled me from a deep sleep to check all the doors and windows. I hated not feeling safe in the country, but I couldn’t deny the pervasive unease I experienced when the sun set each evening.
    We rented a truck, packed up our things, and moved into the town of Ironweed. However, now that we had done it and were preparing to rent out the old place, I felt less sure of the decision. I wanted my small home back.
    As we placed the last of the plates and silverware, the phone once again ceased to rattle. Lance picked up another box. “That thing makes the whole counter shake.”
    “It doesn’t.” I started working on the pots and pans.
    When we invited Natasha into our home, we hadn’t realized Gert would suffer a disabling stroke as a result of the poison her sister had administered. We hadn’t realized Stan’s broken pelvis alone would have left him in the hospital and rehab for a long time, and this didn’t begin to address the other bones Gary had smashed in his uncle’s body.
    Yet again, the cell on the counter vibrated. “Gah! If that thing goes off again, I’m turning it
off.
” Lance banged the spice box too hard, and I was momentarily grateful for the wasted paper and overpacking.
    “If it rings again, I’m answering it. These kids can’t keep calling here at all hours.” In fact, I was delighted to have those kids calling late at night. Not that I was planning to let Natasha stay on the phone after ten, but it meant she had friends to call.
    When she came to us in June, she was friendless. Partially, this was