Read Thicker than Water for Free Online

brothers play?” Rudy asked, obviously irritated.
    â€œInstruments?” Rachel said. “Oh, yeah. Uh … I think trumpets.”
    â€œYou think?” he asked.
    â€œWell, I didn’t pay much attention to the instruments.”
    â€œOkay,” I said, and stood up. “I’m going to the Gaheimer House.”
    â€œWhat?” Rudy asked. “You don’t work in the evenings.”
    â€œWell, I do today. Didn’t get a whole lot done with the kids there earlier, so you can watch them. Have fun.” I put my plate in the sink.
    â€œMy mother will be here Saturday morning,” he said.
    â€œThat’s nice, dear,” I said. I kissed each one of the kids on the head, gave them all instructions for the rest of the night, grabbed my purse, and walked out the door. Since I didn’t have the kids to haul around, I walked the few blocks down to the Gaheimer House.
    The truth of the matter was that the postcard was driving me nuts. It was like this little hot ember burning a hole in me. I had to find out something more about it. I’d be happy if I could figure out who the little girl was. I got in the house, turned off the alarms, and went to my office. I switched on the light and found my magnifying glass in one of the drawers. Then I took the postcard out and studied the back of it. The date was the eighth of something, 1930. It was postmarked from … The state was definitely Iowa. I had figured that out before. It was the city that I couldn’t make out. I squinted my eyes, as if that would help. One word. Something and then a “que.”
    I got out my road atlas and turned to the page for Iowa. I scanned the map quickly, and the first town that jumped out at me was Dubuque. Seven letters. I looked back at the postcard. The word had seven letters. The first letter could have been an O, but I had been thinking all along it was a D . Now I was almost positive it was Dubuque.
    I didn’t remember Sylvia ever talking about Iowa, much less Dubuque, about having been there or having family there. In fact, I wasn’t at all sure Sylvia had ever left Missouri. I slumped back in my chair and twirled the magnifying glass in my hand.
    I turned the postcard over and studied the photograph for the fiftieth time since having found the blasted thing, only this time I used my magnifying glass. The background was sort of desolate, not a lot going on, just some empty space with buildings on the right-hand side and something big and dark on the left. A person stood in the distance, but other than that it was a person, I couldn’t make a whole lot out. The girl held the doll, but this time I noticed she had something clutched in the other hand. I couldn’t tell what it was.
    I booted up my computer and placed the postcard on the scanner. I scanned the picture and enlarged it onscreen. At a greater magnification I was able to make out that the person standing behind the little girl was a man in some sort of uniform: a dark suit with big buttons on the front, and a hat. As to the thing in her hand, it looked like paper.
    So all I had to do was call up everybody in Dubuque and see if they knew of a Sylvia Pershing and a little girl with a doll. That shouldn’t be a problem, right? I mean, it’s not like people move or die or anything.
    I banged my head on my desk.
    Then I heard it.
    Sounded like footsteps upstairs.
    I sat perfectly still and listened again. It sounded like weight against the boards, something heavy. Not like an animal. Outside, New Kassel thrived. Most of the shops had closed, but all the restaurants and the bowling alley were open. I saw people passing by the window, one girl in her swimsuit. Guess she’d just come from the lake. The sun was beginning to set, but it wasn’t completely dark yet. Breaking into the Gaheimer House at such an early hour would be awfully brave for a … what? A burglar? A serial killer?
    Maybe it