All the Dark Places(51)

I draw a line through her name. “Okay, it’s highly unlikely an eleven-year-old was involved in a double homicide. Anybody else?”

“It could be any one of them,” Chase says.

“No.” Lauren leans forward. “I don’t think it was any of the women. Women don’t usually kill women they don’t know. It’s highly unlikely that one of them killed and buried Ms. Robb.”

I draw a line through their names. “I agree. Possible, but not likely.”

“What if it’s just animal blood under the table?” Chase asks. “What if he found the necklace out on the road maybe?”

“Then we’re back to square one. But why wouldn’t he have taken it straight to the sheriff? Why keep it if not to protect somebody?”





CHAPTER 37


Molly


HAYES IS UPSET. I CAN TELL AS SOON AS I WALK THROUGH THE BOOKSTORE door. He’s sorting a box next to the front register, and there’s a line between his eyebrows that he gets when he’s thinking or brooding over something.

“Hey,” I say. He looks up, gives me something between a smirk and a smile.

“You’re early,” he says.

“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep. So I decided to get ready for the day and come in.”

He nods. “Are you okay, Molly?”

“Yes. I’m fine,” I say with as much conviction as I can muster. “How’s Alice?”

“She says she’s fine.” He slams a book on the HOLD shelf behind him. “I never should’ve let her go yesterday.”

My heart hammers. My fault. “I didn’t know anything like that was going to happen, Hayes. I wouldn’t have taken her up there if I’d thought . . . It was supposed to be just routine. Detective Myers said they just wanted to look through the house. Nothing bad was supposed to happen.”

Hayes straightens, looks at me, his eyes soften. “Sorry. I know this has got to be hard on you.” He comes out from behind the counter and wraps me in his arms. I relax against his shoulder.

I take a deep breath and sniff back tears. “I’m so sorry,” I mumble.

“Look, I don’t blame you. How would you know they were going to find that woman buried by the river?”

I pull away and wipe my eyes on a tissue. “It’s all so surreal.”

“Do they have any theories?”

“I have no idea, but I think Jay is a suspect.” I manage a disgusted laugh. “But what are they going to do, arrest a dead man?” Tears start to flow again at my own flippant words. Hayes rubs my back.

“Why don’t you go check on Alice. She’s in my office doing her schoolwork.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll go dry my face first.” I glance around the store. “Then I’ll get busy.”

*

The bookstore closes at eight o’clock on Friday in the winter, and I usually work until six. Hayes has left to take Alice to the hobby store to get supplies for a school project and is coming back to close, so Sharon and I are the only ones here. It has been slow all day. We’ve had a steady snowfall, and all the shops on the square have been quiet.

Just as darkness descends like a heavy blanket, we finally have a customer. A tall man, thirty-something, with a shaved head and a three-day stubble, asks Sharon for help finding a book in the literature section. I’m standing at the register, still lost in thoughts of Jay and Annalise Robb, and trying not to think of my caller.

Sharon, her thick red cardigan gaping around her middle, huffs back to the counter. “Can you go help him?” She glances toward the back of the store. “I left my reading glasses at home, and I’m having a devil of a time.” She leans heavily on the counter, bends over, and searches through the odds and ends on a shelf below it. “I thought I had another pair here someplace.”

I head back to where the man peruses the stacks. “May I help you?”

He straightens and smiles. “Just found it,” he says. I notice a paperback copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in his hand. “I haven’t read it since senior year high school.” He holds the book up. “Didn’t finish it back then, so thought I’d give it another go.”

I nod. “It’s a good one,” I say, and turn to head back to the register.

“Wait. This is a quaint little place.” He glances around.

“Yes. It is.” For some reason, I feel unnerved here behind the shelves with this stranger. Lately, I’m assessing every man I see, wondering if he’s my caller. Is he lurking nearby, following me, not content to torment me over the phone? I shiver and step away, but the stranger steps with me.

“I’m from out of town,” he says. “Do you have a children’s section?”

“Yes. Of course. Second floor.” I wrap my arms around my stomach, desperate to get away, yet not wanting to seem rude or paranoid.

“I’m visiting my brother, and I didn’t think to bring my niece a gift. What kind of uncle would I be if I showed up empty-handed?” He smiles again. Friendly, almost flirting.

He has a backpack slung over his shoulder, wears a leather jacket and skinny jeans. For some reason, I get a reporter vibe, and I can’t bring myself to escort him upstairs. I just want to get back to the relative safety of the counter.