A Mother Would Know (56)

He looks scared, like a lost child. I almost don’t have the heart to ask him the question lingering on my tongue. But I have to. “Hudson, what did you mean when you said that I didn’t have to worry about Leslie anymore?”

“Oh, my god.” His eyes bug out, his lips curling downward in an expression of betrayal. “Do you think I hurt her? Is that why you were blowing up my texts, because you think I had something to do with this?” He stabs his fingers through his hair in obvious frustration.

“I simply asked a question,” I say, as calmly as I can. I’ve poked around enough—he deserves the chance to explain it himself.

His eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head. “I just meant that the police didn’t suspect me of Molly’s murder anymore.”

“Who told you that?” It’s not the impression I got from my conversation with Leslie.

“I heard it from Leslie.”

“You talked to her?”

“Not exactly,” he says. “I overheard her talking to a couple of her friends the last time I went jogging—so, Monday morning before work.”

“What exactly did she say?”

“I only heard a little bit. One of my AirPods had fallen out, and I was searching in the grass for it when Leslie and her friends came walking down the sidewalk. I ducked down behind a tree so I wouldn’t have to talk to her. And at first all I caught was something about fingerprints not being in the system. And then Leslie was saying that the police found out Molly had a boyfriend.”

“Who?”

“No idea.” He scrunches up his face. “They walk fast.”

Blowing out a breath, I sit back. If this is true, then it changes everything. Whoever killed Molly had the motive and practice to kill Leslie—maybe Leslie was starting to look into the boyfriend. Isn’t the murderer usually the partner? I blush with shame for having thought it could be Hudson.

“That’s why I didn’t think I needed to call that detective. But maybe I should call him now.”

“What? Why?” I ask.

“I was at Leslie’s house that night. We both were. What if someone saw me?”

It’s the same thing I’d been spinning about all day, but I’d looked around when I ran out to get him. I hadn’t seen anyone. “I don’t think anyone did,” I say now, praying that I’m not lying to him. It was the truth, except for the fact that I have no idea how long Hudson had been out there. Could someone have seen him before I did?

“But we don’t know that for sure,” he says, as if voicing my internal concerns. “And everyone knows how much Leslie hated me.”

“She hated me, too. She probably hated a lot of people. Doesn’t make us all murderers.”

He fixes me with an exasperated stare. “She’d accused me of her daughter’s murder and had been harassing me for years. That gives me motive.”

I recoil, his words like a slap to the face. “Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s true.” His jaw sets, his eyes narrowing.

“It’s actually not. Heather’s death was a long time ago. Leslie’s the only one still talking about it. Your name has already been cleared. And it sounds like she wasn’t accusing you of anything currently. There’s no motive here.”

“Either way, maybe I should just call the detective and tell him about sleepwalking over to Leslie’s that night,” he says. “Get ahead of it. Just to be safe.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I can’t imagine how guilty he would look if he admitted to seeing Molly the night she died and then being on Leslie’s property the night she died. Talk about circumstantial evidence. It’ll be like a slam dunk. An open and shut case. They probably won’t even look at anyone else. I feel queasy at the thought. If he stays quiet, they probably won’t look into him at all.

“Isn’t it better if they hear it from me?” Hudson continues.

“I think it’s best if we lay low, wait for the police to come to us. Why draw attention to yourself unnecessarily?”

Hudson is quiet a moment, and then he nods obediently just like he did ten years ago.



* * *



“Does anyone else know?” I asked him when I arrived at the field that fateful night. “Where were your friends? Where’s Kendra? Did she drop you off, or did she stay?” We were shrouded by trees and bushes, but I had to keep a lookout. No one could know I was here.

He shook his head. “No one was with us.”

“But do you think anyone heard?” I hated asking the question, but I had to. “Did she scream?”

His teeth chattered, his hands moving up and down his arms. The skin on his face was a sickly gray color. He was in shock. “Um...no, it all happened so fast. I think she tried to scream, but then she was...gone.” The last word was barely audible, partially cut off by a sob that tore violently from his throat. He looked dangerously close to puking, his body slumped over, his facial features scrunched together in a severe wince. “But it’s so loud out here, I don’t think anyone heard anything.” He was probably right. Not only were the kids’ chatter and laughter loud, but the wind was fierce, howling as it whisked through the trees. His eyes widened, another wave of panic hitting. “What if they think I did something?” His voice cracked. “I didn’t do anything!”