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“I don’t know of anyone who can blame them more than me and Daisy’s parents. But I’mpretty sureDaisy’s mom and dad were at the fairgrounds that night, too.” It rules them out, and I’m hoping it helps rule Phoenix out as well.
The cop stares at me and finally,finally,gets to her feet with a sigh. “We’re just chasing leads and checking all of our bases,” Detective Angleson informs me, glancing around the room like she’s never seen it before or hadn’t really looked when she came in. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Scott.”
My mom’s lips thin as she stands as well, but she doesn’t respond. Normally she’d give a kind thank you, and direct the person’s attention to some piece of art or sculpture or lamp that she’d picked up somewhere unique.
I follow Detective Angleson to the door with Mom looming behind me like the literal iteration of amomma bear, but neither of us offer any help as the detective struggles with our bratty door that is suddenly my favorite feature of our glorious house.
When she does get it open, her own weight causes her to stagger back a step, but she collects herself as if the two of us aren’t looking and judging her.
“Thank you for answering my questions,” she tells me, walking out to stand on the front porch. I follow enough to lean in the doorway, my head against the side of it.Good door,I think to it, fighting not to pet it like a horse’s rump.
“Thanks for being so thorough with your work.” Not a hint of truth finds my words that drip with the sarcasm of a thousand preteens. “Wouldn’t want a crime in this town to go unpunished.”
She smiles but again doesn’t answer, clearly being the benevolent bigger person as she slides her sunglasses onto her face. They’re just as severe and unassuming as the rest of her, with black aviator frames outlined in more black.
“I’ll call next time if I have more questions,” she offers, like that’s the problem here. “I know it must be jarring to have a cop just show up here. Especially after everything.” If she’s trying to play my game against me, I hope she’s better than that.
“You call,” I agree. “I’ll keep my phone on twenty-four seven. Want to text me, so I can save your number and give you a special ringtone?”
Her grin widens. “I notice you aren’t telling me what ringtone.”
“Yeah,” I agree, nodding back at her. “You caught me. Probably nothing you’d listen to on the job.” Though I very much doubt she listens to anything other than the police handbook while working.
“Just try to stay out of trouble this season, Miss Scott. Things are weird this time of year, anyway. This year is just…” I expect her to look away cinematically, out onto the street from behind her glasses. But she stares at me instead, like I’m the spooky landscape hiding secrets.
Boy, is she going to be disappointed if that’s what she sees me as.
“Extra weird.” She tilts her head at my looming mother and turns, trudging down our front porch stairs and, unfortunately, not falling. “Oh, by the way. I totally forgot to mention…” She looks back at us, her smile falling. “Did you know that Phoenix Hawthorne is back in town? He’s your best friend’s older brother, right? I drove by their house earlier, only he’s not staying there. Weird, right?” She offers me one last smile that couldn’t fool a blind donkey and starts walking again.
“Detective?” I hate that it’s taken me this long to remember, but now that I have, I can’t push the memory of the man in the fairgrounds away. If he’s the killer, and I don’t say something, I reallywillfeel guilty.
She stops, looking at me with arched brows, but doesn’t speak.
“There was a guy at the fairgrounds a few days ago. He didn’t do anything…” Now I just sound like I’m making shit up, and I shake my head. “It’s definitely nothing. But it was weird.Hewas weird. Middle age, gray hair. Weird eyes. He slammed into me and just—”
“I’ll look into it.” The way she cuts me off causes me to go silent, and I blink up at her owlishly. “Have a good day, Bailey.” She starts to walk again, as if I hadn’t said anything of value whatsoever.
“Sure you will,” I mutter, watching her approach her unmarked car that looks just as normal, if at a lower price point, as most of the ones on our street. “I definitely believe that.”
Chapter13
Out of all the places I could be, or should be, the park probably isn’t one of them. Especially when I’m here alone, close enough to sundown to be suspicious if Detective Angleson has some kind of tag on me, which I doubt.
It’s not like she got close enough to spritz me with overwatch spray, or shove a bug into a coffee that I didn’t even have at the time of her ‘interview.’
I pull my hood up anyway as the wind blows my hair further across my face. Nature seems to have remembered what month we’re in at last, and the milder temperatures from last week are officially a thing of the past. My teeth try to chatter before I set them, wishing I’d get used to the weather quicker, or that I’d worn a jacket more suitable for protection against the cold, instead of my favoriteFriday the Thirteenthhoodie over my fleece-lined leggings.
I don’t even know what I’m doing here. The trees aren’t about to talk. Not even the one in the middle of the park where, supposedly, the witch Agnes was hanged with a colossal effort on the townspeople’s parts.
Though not before she cursed us, if the stories are right. And this year, it’s looking like they are.
The trail leading to the tree is only marked a few times, which has always surprised me given the tourist nature of our town. Shouldn’t wewantpeople perusing the park, going to take pictures by the ancient white oak tree instead of, well, not?
But I’m not the mayor, or any part of her staff. Nor do I have any desire to be. I know the unmarked paths in the park well enough to get to the tree without really trying. Most people who grew up here do. But apparently—when my eyes fall on the water of the river that looks gray under the heavy clouds above us—I don’t know it well enough to avoid this place.
I’d played here so often that the riverbank was a second home to me. Even my mom and dad knew where to find us if Daisy and I had gone out without asking or accidentally went too far into the park itself. We’d made this place our fantasy land, our beach, our boardroom.
And now it’s her memorial that lives in my head, causing every inch of the river that I can see to burn into my thoughts like boiling water.
