All the Dark Places(20)

CHAPTER 13


Molly


CORRINE DROVE ME HOME IN THE MORNING. DETECTIVE MYERS HAD called and told me that they were through with the house, and I could return as long as I stayed out of the garage, which is fine with me.

It feels strange to be here. Corrine arranged to have a cleaning crew come through and not only clean up the party mess but wash away the fingerprint dust as well. She’s standing on the porch, paying the lead cleaning woman, while the other two load their equipment into their van. I feel swept away. Corrine managed everything in perfect Corrine style. No one’s better at cleaning up messes.

I walk slowly down the hall and into the kitchen, gripping my arms across my stomach. My gaze shifts first to the coffee maker, as if it could tell me what happened to my husband, then out the back window. Yellow crime-scene tape crisscrosses the office door. I don’t ever want to go in there again. In fact, when spring comes, I’ll have it torn down and plant a garden there. Maybe a traditional English garden full of roses and peonies, perennials that will come up and bloom every year. I’ll ask Scott about it.

“What?” Corrine is beside me.

“I didn’t say anything.” Or did I? Was I talking aloud to myself? Who knows? I feel half out of my head.

“You sure you want to stay here tonight by yourself?” Corrine asks.

“Yes.” I brush past her. “It’s chilly in here.” I walk down the hall and see that the cellar door is ajar. My heart pounds. I slam the door shut, slide the lock, and lean against it. I take a deep, slow breath. The cops must have done it—of all the doors to leave open. “You want to put the kettle on?” I call on my way back into the kitchen. Corrine is going through a stack of envelopes she collected from the mailbox. She’s like that, more of a parent than a big sister. Maybe because she’s nine years older than I am. Or maybe it’s because she and our parents always treated me like a child, like I’m stuck at six years old.

“Sure.” She drops the mail on the counter and puts on water for tea.

I sit at the table, the same spot where I sat and talked to Sergeant Simmons two days ago. I watch Corrine pull mugs out of the cabinet, grab the box of tea bags. She knows her way around my kitchen. I usually resent her intrusiveness, her sense of ownership over my life. But now I don’t care. She could’ve opened my mail and read it, for all I care now. Everything is different.

“I can’t stay all day, Molly,” Corrine says, placing a mug in front of me. “I have two meetings this afternoon.”

“I didn’t expect you to stay.”

She puts a hand on her hip. “I don’t like you here alone.”

I shrug. “I’ll be okay,” I say, although I’m not sure I will be. “Detective Myers is stopping over later. She said they would have a police officer drive past the house the next few nights, if I want.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess. Why don’t you call a security company? They should be able to have someone out here by tomorrow. You want me to do it?” She’s already on her phone.

“Fine, sure.”

My landline phone rings while Corrine is talking to the security people. It’s Laken. I walk into the living room while we talk. I half-hear her but manage to make intelligent responses, then hang up. I pick up the wedding picture of me and Jay that sits on the mantel and carry it back into the kitchen.

Corrine ends her call. “A guy will be here in the morning to install the security equipment.”

“Great,” I say, and walk past her to the counter, set the photo down, grab the coffee maker, and stash it in a bottom cupboard.

“Gee, thanks, Corrine,” my sister says.

“Sorry. Yeah, thanks. I’m grateful.” I am too. I just don’t have the energy to run my life right now. Just walking, breathing takes everything. “Oh, Laken and Cal are coming over later. Bringing dinner, so I won’t be alone.”

“That’s good.” She glances at her phone. “I’ve got to get going in a few minutes, or I’m going to hit lunchtime traffic.”

I walk her to the door and look both ways at the street as Corrine pulls away from the curb. No media. Thank God. But how long will they stay away? How long before they find me, like vultures looking for carrion? I slam the door shut and shoot the dead bolt.





CHAPTER 14


Rita


I’M NOT THE MOST PATIENT PERSON IN THE WORLD. AND POLICE WORK has gotten so paper-heavy, so weighted down with documentation, that I sometimes have a hard time just sitting at my desk when I know bad guys are running around while I’m typing at my computer. I take a sip of coffee and keep plowing ahead.

After about ten minutes, I lean back in my chair and take a deep breath. The Bradley case is moving slowly. There’s lots to dig through and few clues. It’ll take a while to talk to all of the patients Dr. Bradley saw in recent months. And the lab has eliminated all of the knives removed from the Bradley residence as the murder weapon, so either the killer took it with him, or it’s hidden somewhere else on the property, so we don’t have that.

Officer Lauren Broderick knocks on my door frame, and I glance up from my notes.

“Got an initial report on Dr. Bradley’s computer.” She’s our smartest cop, really. She turned down a scholarship to MIT to attend the police academy. Lucky us. Dedicated and driven, she’s presently a detective-in-training; unfortunately, she’s slated to be someone else’s partner. But Chase has grown on me since Bob paired us up last fall. I’ll just miss Lauren’s help when she’s a full-time detective with cases of her own.