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heard, it was true. “When was the last time you were here?”
    “A little over a year ago. That was when I helped Aunt Vella move.”
    Vella Tallentyre hadn’t exactly moved. She had been institutionalized. He made a note.
    “And you’re back now because you’ve inherited the house and plan to list it with a local real estate agent?” he said.
    “That’s right. Mr. Spicer and I were going through the place to see what needed to be done to get it ready for sale.”
    “How did you know that something was wrong down there in the basement?”
    He could have sworn her jaw tightened a little and her disturbing eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
    “I noticed the padlock on the storage locker door. I knew that it hadn’t been there the last time I was in the house.”
    “Why call nine-one-one? Why not call a locksmith?”
    “I was almost certain it had to be a police matter. There was no legal way that padlock could have been placed on the door. The house is private property and it has been locked up for a year. No one was authorized to go inside except Ed Childers, the man who took care of the place for Aunt Vella. He worked for her for years. But he died some six or seven months ago.”
    “What made you so certain that Childers didn’t put that padlock on the storage locker before he died?” he asked.
    “I’ll admit that I couldn’t be absolutely certain but, frankly, it never occurred to me that he might have been the one who locked the door.”
    “You just leaped to the conclusion that a crime had been committed?”
    “A crimewas committed,” she said drily. “Whoever entered my aunt’s house and installed that padlock had, at the very least, broken into the place.”
    He sat back, thinking about it. His cop instincts were not entirely satisfied but at least he now had a rational explanation for her actions. That was a very good thing because the detectives from Seattle and Portland as well as the media were already on their way. He had a press conference to prepare for. It was going to be a zoo. Discovering the young woman alive in the basement of the old Tallentyre house was the biggest break yet in the unsolved murders attributed to the Bonfire Killer, and he was the man in charge.
    “Thank you, Miss Tallentyre. That’s all for now. How long will you be in town?”
    “I’m going back to Oriana in the morning.” She rose and paused with an inquiring expression. “Unless I can get into the house tomorrow? I’m really anxious to put it on the market.”
    “It’s a crime scene now. Going to stay that way for a few days.” He stood. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”
    “I understand.” She hitched the strap of her dark green purse over one shoulder.
    “Where are you staying tonight?”
    “The Shelbyville B and B.” She took her long black raincoat off a wall hook. “You have my contact information in Oriana.”
    “Right.”
    Belatedly he realized he should have helped her with the raincoat. But she already had it on. Strange how much it resembled a long black cape.
    He did manage to open the door for her. She paused before going through it. He got the feeling she had decided there was something unpleasant she had to say before she left.
    “Do you want to know what my intuition tells me about the killer?” she asked without inflection.
    Here it comes. Damn. Just when he had begun to hope that she wasn’t going to tell him she was psychic.
    “Sure,” he said, keeping his tone just as even as her own. “Tell me about the killer.”
    She seemed to draw even deeper into herself. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly but he could see that she was determined to say whatever it was she had to say.
    “He locked the woman in the basement because his mother used to punish him that way,” she said quietly. “She left him in the dark for hours and then she beat him with a belt because he had befouled himself while he was confined. She told him that there was a demon inside him and that she had to drive it out.”
    “No offense, Miss Tallentyre, but that’s the kind of