A Mother Would Know (58)

I picture the yellow crime tape encircling Molly’s house; Leslie’s body under a sheet, being wheeled out on a stretcher. Two suspicious deaths in my neighborhood in a week’s time, and now a strange man is in my yard. Maybe this is the guy Leslie suspected.

“Hudson,” I croak, but it’s so soft I’m sure he can’t hear me. I snap my fingers, hoping Bowie will come. Last time I checked, he was asleep on my bed upstairs.

I briefly wonder if Molly or Leslie had called out for help, and to whom. They lived alone, so there would’ve been no one there to hear them.

Up until a few weeks ago, I’d lived alone.

Heart rate increasing, I call out again, “Hudson!”

This time, the bedroom door opens, his head poking out, hair still damp, and my heart slows at the sight of him. I’m not alone. “Yeah?” His eyebrows rise when he takes in my demeanor. I must look ridiculous crouching down under the front window. “What’s going on now?” It reminds me of how Darren would address the kids when he found them whining for the tenth time in one day.

“A man,” I say insistently, pointing to the window above me. “In the yard.”

He studies me a minute, then dips back into his room, only to re-emerge holding a wooden baseball bat. It swings at his side as he takes the stairs two at a time. “Stay here. I’ll take care of it.”

He bursts outside so fast that I can’t stop him. It feels weird allowing him to walk into danger. I’m his mother. Shouldn’t I be the one protecting him? But I know how silly that line of thinking is. Hudson is younger. Stronger. Double my size.

I lift my head slightly, daring a small peek out the window. Hudson stalks across the front lawn, bat by his side. I don’t see the man in black anywhere. Hudson’s going in the right direction, though. I crane my neck to follow him, but it’s no use. He disappears behind the side of the house.

I wait, my face flush against the glass. Behind me, the Hallmark Channel is airing another romantic movie. Cutesy banter and cheery music are a stark contrast to the darkness outside, a strange man in my yard and my son going after him with a baseball bat.

I never should’ve sent him out there.

On shaky legs, I straighten up and hurry to the front door, where a pair of slippers is discarded on the ground. I shove my feet into them and step outside. Cold air smacks me in the face. My leggings and my thin, short-sleeved T-shirt are no match for the chill breeze. Shivering, I bound down the front steps.

“Hudson!” I call out.

No response.

I reach the bottom. “Hudson!” I holler, louder this time.

“Right here.”

My heart jumps at the sound of his voice, closer than I expected, but too calm to be in distress or danger. When I round the corner, he comes into view.

“Oh, thank god. You were taking so long, I thought maybe something happened to you.” As my fingertips alight on his arm, I see the man standing behind him. I flinch.

“Mom, this is John. He lives on Twenty-First, around the corner.” I know his words are meant to calm me, but they don’t. Molly was probably killed by someone in the neighborhood. Why not this man? As my eyes adjust, I get a better look at him. He appears to be a little younger than me, dark hair, nondescript features, same height and build as Hudson. Normal, basically. I’ve probably seen him around and never noticed.

“Hi, John,” I say, warily but politely.

“Sorry about scaring you. I was just out here keeping an eye on things. I thought I might’ve seen something in your neighbor’s yard and needed a closer look. It was nothing,” John says.

“He’s part of the neighborhood watch,” Hudson clarifies.

“Neighborhood watch?” I loosen my grip on Hudson’s arm. “I didn’t even know we had one.”

“We didn’t, but after...well...everything that’s happened in the last week, we thought we should start one,” John explains, and his words sting. No one had told me anything about it. “We’re actually having a meeting tomorrow night, if you’d like to join.”

“Where’s the meeting?” I ask.

“At the O’Leerys’.”

“The O’Leerys’?”

Why am I not surprised that it would be held at Beth’s house?

“You’re welcome to join us,” he says again. “Seven o’clock tomorrow night.”

“Okay, thanks.” The cold gets to me, goose bumps rising on my arms, the tip of my nose wet. I sniff, dancing from one foot to the other in an effort to heat up. Thank god for the slippers, or I never would’ve made it this long.

Hudson puts an arm around me. “We should be getting inside.”

“Sorry again about scaring you,” John says as Hudson ushers me back to the house.

Once inside, my teeth chatter. Clearly awoken by all the excitement, Bowie jogs down the stairs to greet me. I sit on the couch and wrap myself in a blanket. Bowie curls up by my feet. Hudson props the bat against the wall by the front door.

“Where did you find that?” I thought I had donated all of his leftover sports equipment years ago—whatever he hadn’t taken with him.

“It’s mine.” He turns it so the A’s logo is visible. They’ve been his favorite team since he was a small child. Often, he and Darren used to sit on the couch, wearing matching A’s jerseys, and watch the game together. “It was a birthday gift from Natalia.” He moves away from the wall, and sinks down onto the recliner across from me. “And it’s one of the few things I actually got to take with me when I left.”