He flops back on the cushions. “I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you wouldn’t approve. I thought you would see her exterior and judge her. I should have known better. I should have trusted you.”

  My stomach twists in knots. “No, sweetheart. You were right. I messed up big time. I did judge her by her exterior. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I have been trying to work up the courage to ask you if I could bring her over for Thanksgiving,” he goes on. “I didn’t know how to ask you.”

  I snap out of my trance. “Of course she can come for Thanksgiving! This is wonderful. Oh, thank goodness! I’m so pleased it’s not something bad. I’m so happy for you.”

  I throw my arms around him as much in relief as in genuine happiness. My son is dating a Goth. What next? Oh, well. It could be a lot worse, and if he likes her, she must be good.

  When I push him back, I see his eyes glistening with moisture. “You don’t know how relieved I am to get that off my chest, Mom. I really dreaded telling you. I could hardly face you anymore.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” I exclaim. “I felt the same way about you. Let’s agree never to keep secrets from each other anymore.”

  “I don’t know if I can promise that,” he replies. “Now that I have a girlfriend, there are going to be more things you don’t get to know about what I’m up to. I do promise, though, never to let it get as bad as this. If there’s anything I think might come between us, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I can’t stop drinking in the sight of him. I love him so much.

  He gathers up his things. “I better go to bed, Mom. Could you be sure to tell me as soon as you hear from David that Ariel is all right?”

  “Of course I will. I’ll tell you right away. You did really good calling him when you did. He really trusts you.”

  “I hope so.” He gets to his feet. “If I can win his trust, I know I’m doing okay.”

  “You’re doing more than okay, Zachary,” I tell him. “You’re the kind of son every mother dreams of.”

  He blushes and slips off to his room. I sit in the same place and stare into space for a while, just trying to take it all in. My son has a girlfriend. She’s coming to Thanksgiving dinner. What will David and Patty think?

  Then I remember. They already know. They’ve known for a while. They probably both know this Gilly Hawthorne. They must think she’s all right. They would have told me if they thought Zack was dating someone who wasn’t good for him.

  The only reason they kept it from me, the only reason Zack could have sworn Patty to secrecy and gotten her to go along with it, was because they were worried I would react badly—which I did.

  I caused this whole sordid situation. I worked myself into a state and nearly ruined my family over nothing. Well, all of that is going to stop. I don’t care if she is a Goth. She’s going to feel welcome in my house and in my family. I might be getting old, but I can still change with the times.

  I make up my mind then and there to welcome her. She’s a psychology student at Wesleyan, so I won’t lack for things to talk to her about. Zack says she’s smart. She must be to do all that, plus she’s creative and shows initiative by getting gigs for her band in Peterborough.

  Besides her appearance, she’s exactly the sort of girl I always hoped for Zack. I just have to put aside my prejudices and meet her where she lives. I can do that. I’ve done it with other people different from myself, and I can darn well do it with her.

  I slap my hands on my thighs and push myself to my feet. I go up to my room, put my pajamas back on, and slip into bed. The house falls silent. All is right with the world and I can finally put my fears to rest.

  I lie awake staring at the ceiling for a long time. Here I thought I was a model citizen. I thought I was a good person doing good in the world. Now I find out I have a long way to go to become the person I want to be. I got snappy with Patty when she really needed my comfort and support. I judged Gilly and alienated Zack. I nearly ruined my own life with my selfishness.

  From now on, I’m going to do better. I’m going to dedicate myself to bettering the lives of people around me. I’m going to be more giving and more understanding. The people around me have blessed my life enough times. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.

  8

  I look up from the candy counter to see David parked over by the vacant lot. He leans against his cruiser talking to a middle-aged man with tattoos covering his arms. I don’t recognize him. If David wasn’t reclining in such a casual posture, I would be worried.

  There I go again, judging a book by its cover. I have got to stop doing that. I don’t know anything about this man. I see tattoos and I immediately put the person in a box.

  While I watch, David looks up and sees me watching him. He beckons me with a wave of his hand. I look around me. There aren’t any customers around, so I slip outside and trot across the street.

  The tattooed man jumps when he sees me. “Who’s this?”

  “This is Margaret Nichols,” David tells him. “Maybe you’ve heard of her. She’s helping me investigate Mr. Stewart’s murder. She usually sits in on interviews, but if you would prefer she didn’t, that’s fine with me. This is Rocky Morris, Margaret. He’s Mr. Stewart’s ex-brother-in-law. I told you about him. He threatened Mr. Stewart and blamed him for his sister winding up in jail.”

  Rocky jabs a finger in David’s face. His inked arm bulges with muscle. “I never threatened him! I got mad at him, and I ain’t the only one, either.”

  David suppresses a smile. “No, you certainly aren’t. So what makes you think Mr. Stewart is the one who got your sister hooked on drugs?”

  “He did get her hooked on drugs,” Rocky fires back. “He was the one who got her the first prescription to oxycodone. She used to get migraines. He had an old bottle of the stuff in his medicine cabinet from when he had hip surgery. He gave it to her and that was the end of that. She started taking more and more. Eventually, that wasn’t enough so she branched out into other drugs. When she got addicted, he dumped her.”

  “The divorce papers say her alcoholism destroyed his business,” David counters. “He claims she stalked him and attacked him and slandered him to his boss and got him fired.”

  “She did it because he cut her off from the drugs,” Rocky tells him. “He never even tried to get her clean. He took the drugs away, and when she went into a tailspin, he dumped her. She ran straight to her dealer, who pimped her out in exchange for the drugs. That’s how she wound up in jail.”

  I can’t keep silent anymore. “So what did you expect to gain by going after Mr. Stewart? It’s been years since he split up with her.”

  “He could at least talk to her,” Rocky replies. “He could at least explain and maybe apologize. She never stopped loving him. If he treated her with a little kindness, maybe she would come out of it.”

  David shakes his head and turns away, but he doesn’t say anything. Whatever Rocky expected Mr. Stewart to do for his sister, he’ll never do it, now that he’s dead. “Can you tell us where you were last Thursday between two and four in the afternoon?”

  Rocky jumps and spins around to stare at me. “What do you want to know that for?”

  “We want to verify your alibi. We want to know where you were and what you were doing at the time of the murder. If you were anywhere else and someone can confirm it, you’ll be cleared of suspicion. We have other suspects. Any information you can give us to clear your name will only help. We’re more than happy to strike you off the list of suspects. We just need the information to do it.”

  He jerks his shoulder backward and looks away. “I don’t have to tell you nothing. Stinkin’ cops.”

  David bristles, but I lay my hand on his arm to calm him down. “I’m not a cop, Rocky. I’m just a lady who runs a candy store. If you feel like telling us, we’ll be happy to listen. It will be completely confidential, so if you have any reason to keep it a secret, no one will find out. It won’t go any further than me and Detective Graham here.”

  Rocky glances back and forth between us, but he keeps his lips firmly closed. After a few seconds’ silence, David puts his notebook away. “That’s all for now, Rocky. You’re free to go.”

  Rocky barges off down Main Street. I glance up at David. “What do you think of that alibi?”

  David snorts. “Not very convincing, is it?”

  I shuffle my feet. “I owe you an apology.”

  “Really?” He looks up at me. “What for?”

  “For not listening to you about Zack. You were right.”

  “Of course I was,” he replies. “I told you that you had nothing to worry about.”

  “So…. you know this Gilly Hawthorne, don’t you?”

  “I’ve known her since her parents brought her home from the hospital,” he replies. “Her father is another detective in my department, but he usually works the territory closer to Peterborough. That may be why you haven’t met them. Gilly’s a sweet girl. I understand she’s gotten into thrash metal lately, but she’s as solid as they come. You should have seen her in high school. Her parents never had to tell her once to do her homework. She motivated herself and got straight As. She did the same thing in college. I was over at her parents’ house for dinner last Saturday night, and she was polite and friendly and easy-going. Her father would definitely have told me if she was in trouble or anything.”

  I sigh and let my chin fall on my chest. “That’s what Zack says. I should have trusted both of you. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s nothing.” He lays his hand on my shoulder. For the first time in a long time, I’m grateful to be close to him, to feel that protective comfort of his touch. “You’re a parent, and you were worried about your son. It could happen to any of us.”

  I nod, but I can’t speak. My throat swells with emotion. As close as I got to him over the last several months, I never felt as close to him as I do now. He understands because now he’s a parent, too. He never could have understood before he found out about Ariel.

  We share such a deeper level of connection now than we ever could before. I always told him that finding out about Ariel would make him happier. I never realized it could bring us closer, too.

  He takes his hand off my shoulder and points behind me. “You have some customers. You better get back.”

  I nod. “Thanks.” I run back to the store.

  I go through the rest of my day, but just as I’m getting ready to close up, I see Rocky Morris again. He strides down Main Street with his hackles raised. He holds his muscular arms crooked and ready for action. He clenches his fists and grits his teeth. He marches up to Mr. Stewart’s grooming parlor.

  He glances over his shoulder and dives into the alley. The next minute, I see him rummaging in the dumpster, but it isn’t Mr. Stewart’s dumpster. It’s Maria’s. I frown to myself. What is he doing back there? What is he trying to hide?

  I pretend to go about my business while I keep an eye on him. He paws through the trash and pulls something out, but I can’t see what it is from here. He comes to the end of the alley, steals a peek both ways up and down Main Street, and then hurries off the way he came.

  My chest tightens. He’s up to something. David’s not around. Whatever Rocky took out of the dumpster must have something to do with the case. I never question that. I have to find out what it is.

  I fish my keys out of my pocket and lock the front door. Then I scoot around to the back door and slip outside. I creep to the street and look right and left the same way Rocky did. Then I run after him.

  I catch sight of him turning into another street. He doesn’t live in West End proper. David told me he lives outside of town. Is that where he’s going now? I hide behind corners and trees until he works his way into the woods. He passes one house after another and one neighborhood after another.

  I look over my shoulder every now and then. I have no idea how far out of town I am, and I’m starting to get nervous. No one knows where I am. Zack will worry when I don’t come home.

  I don’t recognize any of the houses. I don’t know the people who live in them. The comfortable protection of West End doesn’t insulate me here. No one out here holds any obligation to help me or to make sure I’m okay. I slow my pace in hesitation. Should I turn back? If I do, Rocky will get away.

  At last, Rocky opens the gate in a white picket fence. It leads to a quaint little cottage with gingerbread trimming around the eaves. It looks like the last house on the planet a guy like that would live in.

  I hide behind the corner and stare in surprise when he doesn’t enter the house. He goes around next to it and lifts the lid of a metal garbage can. He puts something in it, looks over his shoulder one more time, and replaces the lid. Then he plunges into the trees behind the house.

  I hover there for what seems a long time. My heart hammers in my neck. What should I do? I should probably leave and go back to minding my own business, or maybe I should call David. I should tell him what I saw, but I won’t do that. No, I’m too much of a risk-taking Private Investigator. I have to stick my neck out where I’m sure to get it chopped off.

  I tiptoe out of my hiding place and cross the street. From here, I can see all the windows are dark with the curtains drawn. The name on the mailbox reads, Sorensen, so this can’t be Rocky’s house. That makes sense. I don’t see a bruiser like him living in a cottage as nice as this, but I’ve been known to make a snap judgment on a person’s character before.

  I slip around to the garbage can and lift the lid. I stand transfixed by what I see. A small plastic Ziploc bag lies on top of the black sack underneath. A scattering of white pills dot the surface.

  I put the lid back and go back to the street. My hands tremble getting out my phone. I text David. Could you please come to….? I have to check the address…..790 Pine Grove Court? I found something related to the case.

  I go sit down on the curb opposite the cottage. I struggle to calm my nerves until David rolls up. He gets out. “What did you find?”

  I nod toward the house. “In the garbage can.”

  I wait while he goes over there alone. The next minute, he puts on latex gloves and lifts the baggy into another Ziploc evidence bag. He marks it with a permanent marker and puts it in his car.

  He sits down next to me on the curb. “Tell me all about it.”

  I blow out a shaky breath. “I was closing the store, and I saw him go into the alley behind Mr. Stewart’s. He stuck his head into the dumpster, but it wasn’t Mr. Stewart’s dumpster. It was Maria’s. He took something out, and I followed him here. He stashed those pills in the trash can and then ran off. End of story.”

  He nods. “The Forensics Team ran the surveillance footage from the alley through some facial recognition software. It shows you talking to Mr. Stewart. Then about a half an hour later, it shows him arguing with a man in the alley. Turns out Rocky was in the alley alone with Mr. Stewart during our time window for the murder. It looks like he’s our prime suspect.”

  “What about the car?” I ask. “Is that in the video, too? If you have surveillance footage, you should have a record of the car.”

  David frowns. “You’re right. I didn’t think of that. The cameras cover the front sidewalk and the alley. I wonder why the car isn’t there.”

  “Did you match the grille to Dia’s car?” I ask.

  “No, they couldn’t match it. What I thought was a wire mesh pattern was actually the fabric imprint from Mr. Stewart’s shirt. We won’t be able to match it, but the shirt itself was torn. A scrap of the shirt must have stuck to the car. If we can find that, we can identify the car.”

  “How likely is that to happen?” I counter. “The killer will have washed the car by now. Do you remember how clean Dia’s car was? She would have taken a high-pressure hose to the grille to wash away any blood or fabric.”

  He rounds on me. “What are you trying to do to me? You keep shooting down all my ideas.”

  “Not really. We still have Rocky. He argued with Mr. Stewart, and he put those pills in the dumpster. We just have to connect him to the car in question. That shouldn’t be too hard.”

  He nods. “I better go. I have to take Ariel back to Hartford.”

  “Okay. Drive safely.”

  He leaves and I haul myself to my feet. I’m way out of my league here. Only now that he’s gone do I realize I have no clue where I am or how to get back to town.

  I stick my hand into my pocket for my phone. Thank goodness for Google Maps. I tap the screen to turn it on when something cracks me over the head. A sickening wave of pain and blackness closes over me and drags me down to the bottom of the ocean. I crumple, and my phone falls out of my hand. I crash into oblivion and the world goes dark.

  9

  My eyes snap open. I bolt upright and look all around me before I realize where I am. My head pounds with splitting pain and I can’t move my arms. I’m sitting in the back of a box van trundling down the road with my hands tied behind my back.

  I struggle but I can’t free myself. My head hurts too much to do anything, anyway. I think fast—at least, I try to think fast. Where am I? Who kidnapped me? I can think of only one person.

  I feel a lump in my pocket—my phone. Whoever captured me must have picked it up and put it in my pocket. What murderer would do something so foolish?

  I strain my wrists but I can’t reach it. If I can only contact David, he could use his Police resources to track my phone. No, I can’t contact David. He’s halfway to Hartford by now, and he makes a religious policy never to answer his phone while he drives.

  My head spins. I have to get out of here. I can’t let Rocky make me his next victim. I have a family. I have people waiting for me. I have Thanksgiving to look forward to. I can’t miss that.

  All at once, the van skids to a stop. The brakes squeak and the motor shuts down. The next instant, Rocky jumps out of the driver’s seat and enters into the back. He squats down right in front of me. His face contorts in rage and he pokes his finger in my face. “All right. Start talking! Why were you following me? I could call the cops and have you arrested for harassment, you know.”

 

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