The door to Walter's study was cracked open. She could smell his cigar smoke from the hall and knew Walter would be inside. She pushed the door wide enough that she could enter.

"Mr. Barrington, I'm sorry to disturb you." She noted the empty glass on the desk, next to the ashtray. "May I have a word with you, please?"

Walter looked up tiredly. He ashed his cigar in the ashtray. "Of course, Katie. What's on your mind?"

"Now is probably not the best time to bring this up, but I feel like it's something that needs to be dealt with right away." She started.

Walter nodded, and she could almost see him brace himself emotionally. "What's happened?"

"I don't know how to put this delicately..." She hesitated.

"Well then," Walter frowned. "Just say it indelicately."

Katie took a breath. "Do you know..."

"If there is any news on the threatening notes I received? Unfortunately, no clues as to who is doing this have turned up." Walter shook his head. "I've received two more—one at my office and one at the club."

He frowned deeply and peered into the empty glass on the desk. "And of course, Marcus Jones is doing absolutely nothing."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Barrington." She moved closer to the desk. "That's terrible."

"Yes, well. That seems to be my lot in life." Walter laughed humorlessly. "Was that all you wanted Katie? Or was there something else?"

Katie slid into the chair in front of the desk. "Actually, I did want to talk about the children."

"Yes. Delia is doing very well. She showed me her spelling words this morning." Walter's face softened with thoughts of his children. "And I think Blake is coming out of his shell. That's a reflection on your brilliant work. Well done."

"Thanks, but I'm not sure that's deserved yet." She sighed.

Walter raised his eyebrows. "Oh? What's wrong?"

"Well, I've been talking to the children about their mother..." Katie looked down at her hands.

Walter struggled for a moment with what might have been anger—or emotional pain. His jaw worked silently, lips pressed together tightly. Then, he seemed to calm himself. "Why, exactly, have you done that?"

Katie tried to reassure him with her calm demeanor. "I was trying to gain understanding of their feelings."

"Yes, well. They're very sad." Walter seemed to choke down his emotions. "We all are."

"I am concerned about Delia." Katie sighed. She thought of Delia in the graveyard, singing and talking to a headstone.

"How could that be? Delia didn't even know her mother." Walter shook his head. "She must be the most well-adjusted of all of us."

"That's my point. She doesn't remember her mother." Katie explained. "She feels the loss, just like her siblings, but she has no memories to help her deal with those feelings."

Walter considered this a moment. "Yes. I agree. And this imaginary friend of hers is her mother substitute?"

Katie nodded. "I believe so. May I ask why there are no photos of Mrs. Barrington in the house?"

Walter's face hardened with sorrow and guilt. "I just can't bear to look at her face. I suppose I'm just a terrible father."

"No. Of course not. Not at all. The family has just been through a terrible tragedy. Photographs of happier times may help them—everyone—deal with that." She tried to reassure him, comfort him, but there was so much to heal. "There's one more thing..."

"Oh my God! As if all of this were not enough!" Walter put his head in his hands. "Do I even want to know?"

Katie said it quietly. "Clarissa believes her mother is still alive."

"What?" Walter's head shot up. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "That's ridiculous! Why would she think that?"

Katie hesitated. "She said there was no funeral."

"That's insane. There was a memorial service in this very room." Walter got up and walked to the end of the room. He picked up a three-foot tall ornately carved wooden totem and examined it thoughtfully before placing it back on the ground delicately. "All of her favorite art objects surrounded her picture. And flowers. My Deirdre loved flowers."

"Yes. But Clarissa said there was no body, that the grave is empty." Katie said softly. "She said you wouldn't tell her how her mother died."

"Believe me, Katie. My wife's body is in that grave." Walter struggled with emotion. He touched the totem lovingly. "And Clarissa is not wrong about one thing. I didn't tell them how their mother died. I couldn't bring myself to say it to them."

Katie hesitated. She had been thinking about how to say this next thing all day. She took a deep breath. "Mr. Barrington, about your wife's death..."

He didn't move, but she could see him mentally put distance between them. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm sorry. I just..." She winced at the thought of saying what she had to say. "I have to tell you."

He frowned, nodded. She could see the emotional fortress go up around him as he prepared for what she had to say.

"Bill told me he was responsible for your wife's death." She blurted. "He said he killed her."

Walter laughed suddenly, relief more than humor. His expression softened. "Bill. Yes. He's told me."

"So you—" She was confused, concerned, and reassured all at once. "He said he ran away..."

"I know. Poor man. He confesses to me every month, it seems." Walter's expression faded to a sympathetic smile. "He's quite tormented by it."

"I feel better knowing you know already." The burden of that terrible knowledge lifted, she felt lighter.

"Yes. He feels so much guilt because he left the car to get sick in an alley." He shook his head. "Probably a hangover. And I suppose I should be angry about that, but that sickness is a punishment in itself, I suppose."

Katie nodded sadly. "Poor Bill."

"Besides, he could never have harmed her. He loved her." Walter smiled sadly. "Everyone loved my Diedre."

Katie felt a smile touch her lips. Bill had been broken by loss and guilt and Walter had wrapped him into the family and taken care of him, just like he had taken care of Masie and Elvin. For as much as he tried to affect a harsh demeanor, Walter was good-hearted man.

"Besides, you know as well as I do, Bill is gentle and kind." Walter shrugged and smiled, amused by the thought. "Whatever demons drive him to drink, he certainly doesn't have it within him to kill anyone."

"Okay. I've locked all the doors and windows and set the alarms." Bill entered the room. "Just make sure you reset them after I leave."

"Bill, must you go? You know what's going on here." Walter's shoulders sunk. "You know I need your help."

Katie felt her cheeks get hot with guilt at the sight of Bill. Walter was right. Bill was good. He was not a killer. How could she have thought such a terrible thing about him? She interjected strongly, in proportion to her own shame at doubting her friend. "Mr. Barrington, it seems perfectly reasonable to me. Bill's days off should be his own. Doesn't he make this trip to his mom's every month?"

"Yes, I do." Bill nodded. He gave her a strange look that seemed to inquire if she was alright.

"And I'm sure we can manage a few days while he's gone." Katie nodded. "I can help with whatever you need done."

"You have enough work to do." Walter brushed off the suggestion. "You can't take on Bill's job, too."

"I've made sure everything is in good shape around the estate." Bill assured him. "There's nothing to do except drive you. And surely you can do that for a couple of days?"

"And, Mr. Barrington, it's Bill's mother. That should count for something." Katie realized she was so adamant because she felt bad about what she had said to Walter—which Bill could not have known—but she couldn't help herself.

"I'm not trying to make things hard on you, Walter." Bill shrugged. "I've just already made plans..."

"Yes. Your mother in Minneapolis. I know." Walter said impatiently, unhappily.

"Indianapolis." Bill corrected.

"Whatever. Of course." Walter moved away from Katie and the statue. He looked supremely unhappy. "The point is, I need you to be here. I'm sure your mother will understand if you visit her next week."

Bill frowned deeply. "No. I'm sorry. I explained that when you hired me."

"I'm not denying you your weekend off, Bill. I'm just asking you to postpone it." Walter sat back down at the desk. "I don't see what difference it could possibly make. Look, what if I hire a caregiver to help out with your mother this weekend and you can go yourself next—"

"No!" Bill said with so much force, Katie jumped a little. "If this is such a big deal, then I quit."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. You're as bad as Clarissa." Walter sighed. "Fine. Go, if you must. I'm sure we'll manage without you for a weekend. You're not indispensable, you know."

Bill frowned. "Fine."

"Fine." Walter seemed sadder than ever.

Katie edged toward the door awkwardly. "Well, if I'm no longer needed here..."

"Oh yes, Katie. You were asking me something before we were interrupted." Walter looked up at her. "About how my wife died?"

"I, uh..." Katie stammered uncomfortably. Was Walter about to out her to Bill?

Bill looked at her incredulously. "Why would you want to know something like that? It's a private family matter."

Walter frowned. It was clear he was still angry with Bill. "You are neither private nor family, Bill. You have no say in this matter."

"I am family." Bill snapped back.

Walter sighed loudly. "That's why you can't abandon us when we need you."

"Really, please don't be angry." Katie shook her head. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No. You should know. Besides, it was all over the news." Walter shrugged miserably. "And if Clarissa truly believes her mother is still alive..."

"I don't mean to pry or to cause you any emotional pain." Katie's body relaxed with the realization that Walter was not going to tell Bill she had suspected him. "I just thought it might help me understand the children a little better."

Walter nodded. "Of course. It was very traumatic for them."

"It was traumatic for all of us." Bill frowned. "Still is."

"I understand." Katie smiled weakly at him. "But, as adults, we sometimes have a different perspective. The children are still struggling to make sense of things. They didn't see their mother's body?"

Walter swallowed hard. "No. Thank God!"

Katie nodded thoughtfully. "I think perhaps they lack closure in regard to—"

"You think the kids should have seen the body?" Bill cut her off. "You can't put a child through something like that! Are you crazy?"

"I don't understand." Katie said. "What do you mean?"

Walter sighed deeply and full of pain. "My wife didn't just die, Katie. She was killed by a wild animal. Torn apart."