Dead Past

chased by the killers.”
    “How did Juliet get the doll?” asked Jin.
    “Her grandmother thought she stole it. When she asked Juliet where she got it, Juliet said a friend gave it to her. Juliet doesn’t have much memory of that time,” said Diane. “We may never know. But the killers did not get Juliet or the doll in Glendale-Marsh, and she went home to Arizona. They followed her there to get the doll, not knowing that the grandmother back in Florida had kept it. They were probably afraid that Juliet recognized them. They kidnapped her and when they didn’t get the information they wanted from her, they left her for dead.”
    “Why did they suddenly resurface now?” asked Neva. “It’s been, what, twenty years?”
    Diane thought for a moment. She looked at Jin; then it dawned on her.
    “I think,” she said, “for the same reason that Juliet’s nightmares began again after all these years. The television program. I’m willing to bet that Juliet watched the program or at least caught some of the advertising for it and it triggered the nightmares.”
    “And you think the killer saw the same program and was afraid the cold case squad had a renewed interest in the disappearance of the Sebestyen family, and that Juliet might remember something?” said Neva.
    “Yes. And it also renewed the killers’ interest in getting the doll and the code they never found,” said Diane.
    “You keep saying they, ” said Frank. “You think there was more than one?”
    “I think there were and are at least two,” said Diane. “A man and a woman. In the very moments before Juliet was discovered missing, a jogger was reported to have fallen in front of Juliet’s home. I think the woman was a decoy to attract the attention of the adults to the front of the house while the man kidnapped Juliet from her backyard. In the library when I heard the odd phrase about palimpsests, I believe it was a woman’s voice. It definitely wasn’t the voice of the man who took the doll from me.”
    “It’s a good story,” said David. “It might be true. I think the first thing we need to do is track down the other relatives of Leo Parrish. What were their names?”
    “Oralia Lee and Burke Rawson,” said Neva looking at the genealogy chart.
    “I’ll start with Juliet’s grandmother,” said Diane. “She may know them, or she may know someone I can call in Florida who knows them.”
    Just as Diane was about to get up to call Ruby Torkel, there was a knock at the door. They all looked over at it as if it might be the cardboard cutout of Darth Vader. No one ever knocked at that door.

Chapter 50

    “Who could that be?” said Neva. She got up, walked over, and looked out the peephole.
    “Kendel,” she said and opened the door.
    Kendel, looking tall and sleek in her fur-trimmed chocolate brown cashmere sweater, matching wool slacks, and high-heeled brown leather boots, walked in carrying a package.
    “Hi. I wasn’t sure of the protocol for entering this place. I suppose people usually call first. I see Anna found a Darth Vader. She’s been looking for one for a month.”
    David brought a chair from one of the workstations and Kendel sat down at the table with them.
    “So, it’s Anna I need to thank for that,” said Diane.
    “The docents think it hilarious,” said Kendel. “They’re also hoping that the kids will pay more attention to Darth Vader than to the ordinary signs. From what I hear we need to put him in Security. How are you? How is your head?”
    “Sore scalp, but otherwise fine,” said Diane.
    Kendel winced when Diane touched the back of her head.
    “I found the book you were looking for,” said Kendel, smiling and opening the package.
    She pulled out a small, very old, blue clothbound volume no more than four by six inches in size. It was frayed around the edges, and the spine was so faded that Diane couldn’t read the lettering. Kendel opened it up.
    “It’s volume nine in a series,” she said. “Wonder Book of the World’s Progress, Art and Science.” She handed the slim volume to Diane. “Page fifteen. Second paragraph.”
    Diane’s face lit up as she turned to page fifteen. There it was. “The making of palimpsests was possible even with papyri.” Diane flipped through the pages, glancing at the black-and-white pictures of paintings. She looked at the copyright date in the front—1935.
    “How did you ever?” Diane asked.
    Kendel’s smile broadened into a grin. “I started with a