Her Last Letter by Nancy C. Johnson Page B

wasn’t willing to let that go. Though I’ve never spoken to her, I think from what you’ve told me that she must have loved you too, very much. After all, you looked after her after your mother died.”
    “Well, my father was there too.”
    “Yes, but from what you’ve told me, he wasn’t around too much.”
    “No.” I took a deep breath, finally shaking myself of the bizarre feeling that had taken hold of me a while ago. “You are right, of course. Kelly couldn’t have handled the thought of losing me too, losing my love. She’d lost Mom, then Dad. And Linda, well … Kelly and Linda weren’t exactly best friends. I suppose Kelly couldn’t take the chance that maybe she’d mess things up with me too.… It’s so strange. I’ve had dreams since she died where I died too, where I lost my footing and fell into this cold dark bottomless crevasse, and for one horrible instant, I feel my insides shrivel, because I know this is it. No one can save me. I can’t even scream I’m so terrified. Maybe that’s how it was for her that night. I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know, because if it’s as bad as it must have been, how can I …?” I stopped abruptly, sat very still. Finally, I looked up at her. “I have said all this before, haven’t I?”
    “Gwyn, you are not at fault. You are not the one to blame.”
    “No?”
    “No.”
    “You’re right. He is.”
    “I’m going to give you a referral to that psychiatrist friend of mine, just for some medication, something to help you relax, nothing heavy duty. I want you to-”
    “No, I don’t want to take anything. I’m okay.”
    “Of course. But you can always call me if you change your mind. I do think we should see each other again. Maybe next week, if that’s all right.”
    “Sure.”
    “Talk to Rachel on your way out. Tell her I said to fit you in.”
    “All right.”
    I stood and my knees buckled slightly. I hoped Janet hadn’t noticed, but she glanced down, then back up into my eyes. “You’re certain you’re okay?”
    “Yes, I’m fine.”
    I bypassed Rachel. I just wanted out of there. I’d call and make the appointment later on … or maybe not.
    I was consumed with thoughts of Kelly on the drive home.
    Initially, police surmised she’d been a random victim of a drunk driver who’d swerved out onto the gravel shoulder, hit her, then panicked and fled. But no one could supply the answer to one important question. What was Kelly doing walking alone on a deserted road so late at night?
    The morning after she died, reeling from the news, I drove over to the old house. When I opened the garage door, I found Kelly’s pickup parked inside. She’d almost never bothered to pull her truck in, so I’d inspected further. Her right front headlight was smashed and the fender creased. Dried blood stained both the glass and metal.
    Her killer had taken the time to drive her truck back to the house, pull it into the garage, and close the door. Everyone had assumed it was Craig Foster. He didn’t have an alibi, and he did have a record, drug offenses and other assorted crimes. He must have known they wouldn’t look any further. After he ran, the police had focused entirely on him.
    As soon as I got home, I walked into the studio and checked my answering machine, which flashed ominously with seven messages. I started to play them back, but cut them off after the first one, from Linda.
    I nervously dialed her number.
    “Linda, I just got home. Are you all right? Why aren’t you at the hospital?”
    “I think I’m okay now, well sort of, and I tried to call Wolfgang, but he hasn’t called back.”
    “Call an ambulance-right now-or I will.”
    “No, Gwyn, don’t. Please, you come and take me there. I’m only a little dizzy now. I don’t want an ambulance in the driveway flashing its lights. I don’t want to explain to the neighbors, okay? I swear. I’m not that bad.”
    “I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t hang up.”
    I