Читать книгу Murder In The Heartland - M. William Phelps - Страница 13

Outside the window where the woman who called herself Darlene Fischer^* lived, the temperature had dropped the previous night in Kansas. The prairie just beyond the driveway and the gray-shingled red-barn roof in the yard were dusted with frost; the windowpanes of the farmhouse down the road were fogged over; a rusted Ford pickup truck carcass sat on concrete blocks in the wheat field nearby and appeared as if someone had spray-painted the windshield white; and a shadow of smoke, rising from a woodstove chimney, coiled upward into a corkscrew, dancing in the sky.

Darlene had decided long ago, if this plan of hers was going to work, it would need to be set in motion today. Her husband had taken the following day, a Friday, off from work so he could go with her to her doctor’s office and find out what was going on with the baby. He, along with her children and several people in town, were expecting her to go into labor any moment. She had been talking about having another baby for years—all the while, she claimed, contending with four miscarriages.

Part of her plan meant driving into Lyndon, just outside the town where she lived, and first stopping at Casey’s General Store, where she worked part-time. It was her day off, but Nancy, a coworker, would be there.

She figured she’d walk in, tell Nancy what was happening, and word would soon spread throughout town she was in labor.

Before leaving the house, she took a paring knife from a kitchen drawer and put it in her pocket. She rarely carried a purse, or, for that matter, a knife. She needed rope, too. But she could purchase it later or pick up a bundle elsewhere. She had plenty of time.

At about 5:15 A.M., she pulled into Casey’s parking lot. From the look of things, it was just Nancy sitting there behind the counter. She was probably half asleep, filing her nails, drinking coffee, maybe reading the morning paper. Her boss, the store manager, was there as well, a friend said later; but she was likely in the back office doing paperwork, getting ready for the day.

Leaning on the counter, Darlene looked at Nancy, put her hands around the bottom of her belly, and lunged her stomach forward to make it appear larger.

“My water’s going to break today,” she told Nancy, speaking “really quiet and softly,” recalled a relative.

“I can feel it,” she continued, looking at Nancy. “I’m having labor pains.”

Nancy didn’t believe her. She was one of several people in town starting to question her pregnancies. At the same time, a majority of the people in her close circle—all four of her kids and her husband—believed it was for real: she was going to have a baby.

“Well,” she said to Nancy, “I’m going shopping in Topeka.”

Minutes later, she took off.

While driving, she phoned home. Rebecca, up and about now, getting ready for school, answered.

“I’m on my way into town to go shopping. Any idea yet what I might get Kayla?”

“No, Mom. Sorry.”

“Okay, we’ll talk later.”

“Right, Mom.”

“I’ll call you this afternoon.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. My water is going to break. I can feel it.”