police for years on missing persons cases. My reputation is sound. I respect confidentiality. They wouldn’t work with me if I didn’t.”
Kramer wondered if it would start to rain before Kelly’s mother decided to either let her into the house, or send her on her way.
“Did the police send you?”
“No,” Kramer said.
“How about the media? Were you sent here to dig for more clues or did you come on your own?”
“I came on my own.”
Mrs. Walsh made an exaggerated attempt to step out on the porch and look both ways, up and down the street.
“Am I able to trust you? You’re saying, no one sent you? You’re here to talk about Kelly and no one knows you’re here?”
Why are we still going over that point? What is she getting at?
“It appears you’ve been hounded to the point of paranoia,” Kramer said. She raised her hands in an ‘ I surrender’ gesture and said, “I just want to talk. That’s it. No one and nothing is behind my motives.”
Mrs. Walsh stepped back into her foyer and nodded at Kramer, but she didn’t step aside to allow Kramer entry.
“Maybe we could continue this conversation inside. If it’s possible, I would like to see Kelly’s bedroom.”
“Okay,” Mrs. Walsh said, as she moved to the side.
Kramer stepped in to a modest home. It appeared to be kept clean and tidy, but she started to feel that something was wrong again.
“Please understand. I’m usually pretty cautious when answering the door. We used to get reporters wanting interviews, and all sorts of weirdos, knocking at all hours.”
Oh, so now you only allow psychics into your home .
“Kelly’s bedroom is up there,” Mrs. Walsh said as she gestured at the stairs and started for them, slamming the front door hard. Kramer followed close behind.
When they entered Kelly’s bedroom, she saw that they’d turned it into a library. She also saw Kelly, sitting in a rocking chair in the corner.
“Are you okay?” Mrs. Walsh asked.
It must’ve shown on her face. “Yes, yes I’ll be fine. What happened to Kelly’s things? Aren’t you expecting her to come home?”
“Sadly, no. She wasn’t the type to run away. My husband and I decided to move on. If and when she does come home, then we would turn her old room back to the way it was.”
That’s odd. Mrs. Walsh knows more about Kelly’s disappearance than she’s letting on. Something is very wrong here.
Kramer heard a soft whisper. She looked over as Kelly was mouthing the words ‘ where the deer play ’.
“Was there a certain area where Kelly set up her glass deer?”
“Oh, my, you really are psychic.” Mrs. Walsh walked over to the closet and stood beside it, pointing into the corner of the room. “Before this bookcase was here, we had set up a circular rug in the corner. When she was little, Kelly would play for hours on that rug, so none of her glass figures would break. She always played with her deer right here.”
Kramer walked over, being careful now to keep a little distance from Mrs. Walsh. Every sense she had screamed to RUN . She had to leave, to come back with Bruce or never again.
To look like she was onto something, Kramer used her hands to inspect the bookcase. She ran her hand down the side of the wall and felt a slight depression in the drywall.
She heard someone coming as footsteps resounded along the outside corridor. She turned to see who it was. Mrs. Walsh’s facial expression had changed. She looked angry.
The footsteps stopped outside Kelly’s bedroom door.
“Everything okay Mrs. Walsh? Have I offended you?” Kramer asked.
She hadn’t seen the rubber mallet in Mrs. Walsh’s hand before. Now it dangled from her grip.
“You big city bitch.” Her voice had taken on a high-pitched squeal, as if this was her real voice, and she had deliberately deepened it earlier to converse at the door.
Kramer wondered if it would start to rain before Kelly’s mother decided to either let her into the house, or send her on her way.
“Did the police send you?”
“No,” Kramer said.
“How about the media? Were you sent here to dig for more clues or did you come on your own?”
“I came on my own.”
Mrs. Walsh made an exaggerated attempt to step out on the porch and look both ways, up and down the street.
“Am I able to trust you? You’re saying, no one sent you? You’re here to talk about Kelly and no one knows you’re here?”
Why are we still going over that point? What is she getting at?
“It appears you’ve been hounded to the point of paranoia,” Kramer said. She raised her hands in an ‘ I surrender’ gesture and said, “I just want to talk. That’s it. No one and nothing is behind my motives.”
Mrs. Walsh stepped back into her foyer and nodded at Kramer, but she didn’t step aside to allow Kramer entry.
“Maybe we could continue this conversation inside. If it’s possible, I would like to see Kelly’s bedroom.”
“Okay,” Mrs. Walsh said, as she moved to the side.
Kramer stepped in to a modest home. It appeared to be kept clean and tidy, but she started to feel that something was wrong again.
“Please understand. I’m usually pretty cautious when answering the door. We used to get reporters wanting interviews, and all sorts of weirdos, knocking at all hours.”
Oh, so now you only allow psychics into your home .
“Kelly’s bedroom is up there,” Mrs. Walsh said as she gestured at the stairs and started for them, slamming the front door hard. Kramer followed close behind.
When they entered Kelly’s bedroom, she saw that they’d turned it into a library. She also saw Kelly, sitting in a rocking chair in the corner.
“Are you okay?” Mrs. Walsh asked.
It must’ve shown on her face. “Yes, yes I’ll be fine. What happened to Kelly’s things? Aren’t you expecting her to come home?”
“Sadly, no. She wasn’t the type to run away. My husband and I decided to move on. If and when she does come home, then we would turn her old room back to the way it was.”
That’s odd. Mrs. Walsh knows more about Kelly’s disappearance than she’s letting on. Something is very wrong here.
Kramer heard a soft whisper. She looked over as Kelly was mouthing the words ‘ where the deer play ’.
“Was there a certain area where Kelly set up her glass deer?”
“Oh, my, you really are psychic.” Mrs. Walsh walked over to the closet and stood beside it, pointing into the corner of the room. “Before this bookcase was here, we had set up a circular rug in the corner. When she was little, Kelly would play for hours on that rug, so none of her glass figures would break. She always played with her deer right here.”
Kramer walked over, being careful now to keep a little distance from Mrs. Walsh. Every sense she had screamed to RUN . She had to leave, to come back with Bruce or never again.
To look like she was onto something, Kramer used her hands to inspect the bookcase. She ran her hand down the side of the wall and felt a slight depression in the drywall.
She heard someone coming as footsteps resounded along the outside corridor. She turned to see who it was. Mrs. Walsh’s facial expression had changed. She looked angry.
The footsteps stopped outside Kelly’s bedroom door.
“Everything okay Mrs. Walsh? Have I offended you?” Kramer asked.
She hadn’t seen the rubber mallet in Mrs. Walsh’s hand before. Now it dangled from her grip.
“You big city bitch.” Her voice had taken on a high-pitched squeal, as if this was her real voice, and she had deliberately deepened it earlier to converse at the door.
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