The Box in the Woods (Truly Devious #4)(52)

“Hard to forget,” he replied, but he nodded a polite greeting to Stevie.

“Stevie’s okay,” Allison said. “It would mean a lot to me if you would give her an interview about the case.”

Paul raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” she said. “She’s all right.”

The owner and the small dog left, and Paul waved his goodbye. Then he turned to the man at the desk, who was typing into a scheduling program with lightning speed.

“Hon, when’s my next?”

“You have forty-five minutes,” the man replied. “Your ten fifteen spaying appointment asked to bump to this afternoon.”

“Looks like I have some time now,” Paul said. “I could use





a coffee. That okay with you, Joe?”

“Fine by me,” Joe replied. “Gives me a chance to unpack the surgical supplies.”

“My husband,” Paul explained. “Keeps everything going.”

Joe did not deny it. He peered over the desk to regard Stevie.

“So the Box Box guy owns the camp now, huh?” he asked.

Stevie nodded.

“And he also wants to make a podcast about the . . . about what happened? Seems like a broad remit. Still, I have to admit I like those boxes.”

Stevie shrugged, because Joe was right. It was a weird combination of interests.

“Joe likes organization,” Dr. Penhale explained. “I joked that he wanted us to take our honeymoon at the Container Store.”

Joe held up his hands, indicating that he was guilty as charged.

“So you’re set here,” Allison said. “If you need anything else, you ask me.”

With a nod, she exited.

“You seem to have made a big impression on Allison,” Paul said. “And if you’re all right with Allison, then you’re all right with me. Let’s walk over to Patty’s, get a coffee or a soda or something.”

They crossed the street to the Sunshine Bakery. Patty Horne was in the back, decorating a cake. She gave a wave but continued with her work as her assistant rang up the





coffees and prepared them. Paul insisted on paying. All the tables were empty, so they took the one by the window. Sunshine Bakery was, true to its name, extremely sunny. Sunlight poured in over the cheerful yellow table, decorated with a red Gerbera daisy in a jar.

“So what can I help you with?” he asked.

“Do you mind if I record this?” Stevie said, getting out her phone. “Not for the podcast. For me. Just to remember.”

Paul gave an expansive gesture that indicated she should do as she liked.

“I guess . . . ,” Stevie said, and then regretted starting that way. She needed to sound more sure, more confident. But that was easier said than done. She was facing a man who had lost a brother, as Allison had lost a sister, and Patty had lost her friends. Everyone around here had lost, and she felt it in her bones.

Paul was waiting. She needed to stop sounding so unsure.

“Your brother,” she said. It was not a question, but Paul seemed to understand. “If that’s okay,” she added.

Paul nodded, his chin dipping toward his chest a bit.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve been talking about what happened to my brother—about everything that happened here—since I was seventeen years old. It’s been with me for most of my life. My brother died in December of 1977, about seven months before the murders. It was right before Christmas. He was in the junior high band. He played the trumpet. They were doing a special long rehearsal for a holiday concert. I was home. I was watching Starsky and Hutch downstairs and





doing homework. The phone rang and I heard this . . . scream from upstairs . . .”

He stopped and looked down at his coffee for a moment.

“It was our neighbor, Mrs. Campbell, who called,” Paul said. “It happened right around the corner. He would have been home in a minute or two. Someone came around the corner and mowed him down. Mrs. Campbell heard it happen and ran out, she was with him when . . .”

He shook his head.

“He didn’t die right away. She stayed with him while the ambulance came. He died en route.”

“And people think Todd Cooper was the one who—”

“I don’t think,” he cut in. “I know Todd Cooper was the one who hit him. Everyone knows Todd Cooper was the one who hit him.”

His voice rose a bit and Patty looked up from her cake decorating. Paul cleared his throat a little. “Why don’t we step outside?” he asked. “It’s a nice morning.”

The temperature had climbed even in the short period they had been in the bakery, and Stevie felt herself immediately start to sweat.

“This is a small town,” he said as soon as they were clear of the door and any passersby. “Everybody really does know everyone. And it’s not like there are any secrets about what happened with Todd and my brother. Certainly Patty knows all about it. But it always feels best to maybe keep this conversation—well, I don’t know. It’s a reflex.”

They drifted toward the green and sat down on one of the





benches by the statue.