Beneath Devil's Bridge(48)

“They were found at the scene,” I say.

“Maybe Clay loaned Leena that poetry book,” she says.

“Yes. Probably,” I say.

While Luke continues to hold baby Janie, I go out to the vehicle, fetch an evidence bag and gloves, and return to collect the boots. Then I write a name and number in my notebook, tear out the page, and hand it to Lacey.

“I want you to call this number. This is someone who can help. And I’m also going to phone someone and get them to come and check up on you, okay?”

“You mean like a social worker? I’m a good mother. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m not a good mother. I’m doing my best.”

“I’m sure you are. But we all need help. Raising a child . . . it’s not a thing that should be done alone.” Another thought hits me as I recall the crucifix in the baby’s room. “Do you go to church, Lacey?”

She nods, blows her nose again.

“Which one? Because I know some people who can help from our local faith communities, too.”

“Our Lady of the Hills.”

“Okay. I know someone with the Catholic Church. I’ll give them a call to see if they have some solutions to help, okay?”

She nods and takes the piece of paper from me.

Luke gets up and hands her the baby. He says, “Can we take a look inside Clay’s tutoring shed?”

She stiffens. Panic chases across her features. “I . . . It’s always locked. With a padlock. And don’t you need to ask him, or have a warrant or something?”

“Fair enough,” Luke says. “But we might need you to come down to the station, to make an official statement. We can get someone to bring you in. Is that okay?”

She nods and sees us out the door.



As we duck into the car and out of the blowing snow, I say, “So Clay Pelley has no alibi. He lied to his wife. Mr. Nice Guy is a shit husband.”

“Or worse,” says Luke as he reaches forward to start the engine.

I curse as I buckle up. “She’s just a kid herself. Barely older than some of the seniors at school. And clearly struggling.”

Luke glances at me. “Do you believe your daughter is telling the truth about what she saw?”

“I do. It was hard for her, but yes, I believe her.”

“We’ll have to bring the kids in again. Officially. Into the station with guardians this time. Grill them on record about whether they saw their teacher at the bonfire. And we’ll get those boots to the lab. Could give us enough for an arrest warrant, or at the least a search warrant for his home and shed.”

Luke reverses out of the driveway. The tires spin and bump over the mound of snow left by the plow that has just driven along the road.

“Is it true?” he asks. “What you said about your husband?”

“That’s not your business, Luke.”

“You made it part of an interview.”

I say nothing. He doesn’t pursue it.

As we round the corner, I glance back through the misted car window. I see Lacey exiting the side of the house in a big coat. She’s heading through the blowing snow, aiming for the shed in her backyard.





TRINITY


NOW


Thursday, November 18. Present day.

I find Beth Galloway Forbes at the hair salon she owns in a new strip mall. It’s after lunch. Gio and I stopped at a fast-food place on our way back from visiting with Dusty Peters. Gio once more waits for me in the van in the parking lot. When I phoned Beth early this morning, she said she’d be happy to be interviewed—she’d already listened to the first two episodes. She said her mother, Eileen, had called to tell her about the podcast. Eileen had listened, too.

Beth’s salon is upmarket and trendy-looking, and Beth is model glamorous. Her blonde hair is cut in a sleek platinum bob that swings cheekily at her jawline. She’s on the tall side of average height, wears a sleeveless blouse made of some chiffony fabric, and has delicate tattoos of roses and other flowers along one arm.

She takes me into a small office at the back of the store. The place smells of shampoos and the ammonia of hair dyes.

“Can I get someone to fetch us coffee?” she asks in a rich voice. “Got a great coffee shop down the mall.”

“I’m fine, thanks. And thank you for agreeing to see me. I spoke with Dusty Peters at the wellness center this morning, and I’m hoping to connect with more of Leena’s classmates.”

“Yeah. I haven’t spoken to Dusty in, like, ages. She phoned me to say you were going to be meeting with her. It’s kind of bringing us all together again. Have you spoken to Maddy?” Beth asks as she takes a seat behind a glass desk. I sit in a chrome chair to her side.

“I’ve left messages. She has not returned my calls yet.”

She gives a soft sigh. “I tried to call her. To talk about it. Mads has been isolating herself since that climbing accident put her in a wheelchair. I mean, Maddy and I were once super tight, but something changed in her that fall Leena was killed, and we gradually drifted apart after that.” She falls silent for several beats. I hear the sound of a hair dryer in the salon. “It sort of changed everyone. Leena’s murder. Changed the whole town.”

“Do you mind if I record this?”