Until Dark - Mariah Stewart [134]
“Mara . . . ?” Annie called from the doorway.
The face on the television was taut with concentration as he spoke of the victims.
“Yes, then we think he sought out the second Mary Douglas and killed her, though we do not know why either of these women would have been targeted, for that matter. . . .”
“Mara . . . ?”
“This is bizarre,” Mara shook her head.
“What is?” Annie set the bag she carried on the coffee table.
“This news report . . .” She was still shaking her head slowly, side to side. “Two women named Mary Douglas were murdered one week apart. Killed in the same manner, though the police aren’t saying how they were killed.”
“Wow. Doesn’t that give you the creeps?” Annie frowned. “That the name is so close to yours? Mary Douglas. Mara Douglas . . .”
“A little, yes,” Mara admitted, “But what makes it really freaky is that there’s a woman who works in the D.A.’s office at the courthouse—she’s administrative staff—named Mary Douglas.”
“Was she . . . ?” Annie pointed to the television.
“One of the victims? No, thank God. I was holding my breath there for a minute, though. She’s such a nice person—a real ray-of-sunshine type. Friendly and a good sport. Not a day goes by when each of us doesn’t get at least one piece of mail meant for the other.”
“You don’t work in the D.A.’s office.”
“Right, but very often the mail room will mistake Mary for Mara, or vice versa, and we get each other’s mail. And if something is addressed to M. Douglas, it’s anyone’s guess whose mailbox it ends up in.” Mara watched the rest of the segment, then turned off the television. “I feel sorry for the families of the two victims, but I can’t help but be relieved that the Mary Douglas I know wasn’t one of them.”
“Odd thing, though,” Annie murmured as she pulled off her short-sleeved cardigan and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “Two victims with the same name. That can’t be a coincidence. . . .”
“Intrigued, are we?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Itching to know more?”
“What do you think?” Annie carried the fragrant bags of egg foo young and chicken lo mein into the kitchen.
“Maybe you’ll get a call.”
“Well, it’s early yet. Only two victims. Have they given out any personal information about them?”
“The first victim was a retired school librarian. Sixty-one years old, lived alone. No relatives. By all accounts, a lovely, pleasant woman without an enemy in the world.”
“And the second victim?”
“Attractive woman in her midfifties, two grown kids. Yoga instructor at the local YMCA. Husband died two years ago.”
“Boyfriend?” Annie leaned against the door frame, her expression pensive.
“They didn’t say. According to the news report, she was well liked. Active in the community, spent a lot of time doing charity work. They haven’t been able to come up with a motive for either of the killings.”
“There’s always a motive. Sometimes it’s just harder to find. They need to do a profile on the victims.”
“I was waiting for that.” Mara watched her sister’s face, knew just what she was thinking.
As a criminal profiler for the FBI, Annie’s experience had taught her that the more information you had about a victim, the more likely you were to find the perpetrator of the crime.
“Can’t help it. It’s my nature.” Annie waved Mara toward the kitchen. “Come on, dinner’s going to get cold. Do I have to be hostess in your house?”
Mara got plates from the cupboard while Annie removed the little white boxes from the bag and arranged them in a straight row along the counter.
Mara nodded approvingly and handed her sister a plate. “Buffet is good.”
They chatted through dinner, but Mara could tell her sister’s attention was wandering.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.” Mara waved a hand in front of Annie’s face.
“Sorry.”
“You’re thinking about those women. The Marys.”
“Yeah. Sorry. Can’t