A Mother Would Know (34)

I don’t know if she was killed in this room, of course. The neighbor only said that her friend found her. Not where. And the news so far had given the barest of details. Wincing, I peek down the hallway. What if there’s blood all over the hallway or one of the bedrooms?

Shivering, I peer longingly over my shoulder to the back door. The thought of what I might find in the rest of the house almost makes me jump ship.

Almost.

But I’ve never been a quitter. And I’ve already come so far.

Molly had good taste in home decor. Boho chic, with pops of bright color, baskets and macramé hanging planters. Her couch is a muted gray with bright orange pillows, a teal throw blanket. She’s got one of those chairs that hangs from the ceiling that are popular right now.

The family room and kitchen are separated by a counter and two bar stools. A small hallway leads past the kitchen and to the front door.

I start to walk toward the bedrooms when I’m struck with a sudden dizziness. Reaching out, I press my palm to the wall and breathe in deeply. It takes a few minutes to steady myself. My head is still a little fuzzy when I push off. It’s probably the smell...or knowing what’s taken place in here. Exhaling, I steel myself for what’s ahead and continue on. The walls are bare. One bedroom is completely empty other than a few storage boxes, a desk in the corner, some papers and a closed laptop sitting on top. The bathroom resembles mine. Curling iron on the counter, tangled cord piled up alongside an array of hair products. Makeup brushes and palettes load the other side.

The bedroom at the end of the hall must’ve been Molly’s. The bed is unmade, the white down comforter flung to one side. The walls in here are bare as well, and I realize that the only painting I saw was the one in the family room. She must not have lived here long.

There is a framed picture on one of her nightstands, though. It’s a family photo. Even though Molly is much younger in it, I recognize her immediately. The other people must be her parents and, by the looks of it, a brother—but I don’t think this was the guy in her profile picture.

I lean in to look more closely and feel something under my shoe: on the ground near my feet lies a lilac G-string. Face hot, I turn away from it. There are some dark dots in the carpet. Crumbs, maybe. I had noticed an open bag of Oreos on her nightstand. For someone so good at decorating, she did seem to be a bit of a slob. Something gold and shiny winks at me from under the dresser. Not a badge, but still, it catches my eye.

I know I shouldn’t mess with anything, but I have a fluttery feeling in my gut and can’t help snatching it up: a gold watch, large face and band. A man’s. Something about it is familiar, but I don’t know why. Hudson isn’t historically the type for nice watches. I turn it over in my hand. There is an inscription on the back that reads “777.”

What does that mean?

It seems foreign, and yet something deep in my gut tells me it’s not.

I’m racking my brain to figure out if or where I’ve seen it before when my cell phone rings in my pocket. A startled squeal escapes through my lips. Heart hammering, I shove the watch into my free pocket and yank my phone out of the other one.

Kendra.

I hesitate, wondering if I should ignore it. But what if it’s an emergency? She never calls me twice in one day, and especially not after the way we left things in our last conversation.

Pressing the cell to my ear, I say, “Hello.”

“Mom?”

My pulse quickens at her panicked tone.

“Mom, I need you to come over right now.”

I whirl around, heading quickly out of Molly’s room. “Is it Mason? Is he hurt?”

“No. Mason’s fine. I need you to watch him.”

It hits me then. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s Theo. The police...they brought him in for questioning.”

“For what?”

“The murder of Molly Foster.”





11





Dazed, I hang up.

Why would the police be questioning Theo?

“Molly and I work together.”

Is there more to it than that?

My head swims. I squeeze my eyes shut to keep from falling over. When I open them, I’m momentarily startled by my surroundings. What the hell am I doing here?

This is a terrible idea. What had I been thinking?

Backing out of the room, I walk down the hallway with the bare walls and into the messy family room. Then I stop short. I haven’t found Hudson’s badge. Should I keep looking?

Kendra’s panicked tone rings out in my mind. Her rushed words.

“I need you.”

As I hurry out of Molly’s house, the memory of Hudson saying almost the same words to me ten years ago chases me down the street.



* * *



It was a cold October night, a week before Halloween. Kendra and Hudson had gone out earlier in the evening. I’m embarrassed to admit, I didn’t ask a lot of questions. Hudson had said he was going to an early Halloween party with Heather, and that was good enough for me. Kendra had told me she was going out with some friends. I honestly didn’t think they were going to the same place. They rarely hung out together, but again, I didn’t ask. Darren was the one who liked all the details. I never needed them.

I was living in a fog of grief over Mac’s death. I spent that evening eating Chinese food out of a container alone while rewatching the movie Face/Off for the dozenth time. Darren had drunk himself into a stupor and then passed out.