CHAPTER TEN

C HAPTER T EN

Wednesday morning, as Kaylynn Alcozar rinsed off the dishes left in the sink by their son, Holiday, she saw two people, a man and a woman, exit their car and walk toward Rosella’s house. At first, she thought it might be a religious group spreading the word. Their shoulders were slumped, and their suits were wrinkled as if they had slept in their clothes, slipped on their shoes, and popped out the door.

Rosella’s not there, Kaylynn thought sadly. Rosella is gone forever.

She wondered if she should call Chloe Leavitt. Chloe tended to be nosy, which came in handy whenever Kaylynn wanted to know what was going on in the neighborhood. Chloe had a cheerful demeanor, and she loved to gossip. Kaylynn had to admit she was envious of her at times. The woman had everything: a hardworking husband, three beautiful children, the nicest house Kaylynn had ever set foot in, and no outside job. Kaylynn had the smallest house on the block, which was fine, except it was old and needed a few updates. The roof was leaking and the dishwasher needed to be replaced. The house was either ridiculously hot or freezing cold—there was no in-between. Her husband, Nicolas, was a lawyer, and after he’d been promoted four years ago, they had moved to the Fabulous Forties. The area, and the house, was way out of their league, but they were good at budgeting, and they knew if they refrained from taking vacations and going out to eat, they could make it work.

Kaylynn worked at a local grocery outlet. She was the assistant manager, coordinating operations and training and supervising employees. Every once in a while, if an employee called in sick, she would find herself at the cash register checking out customers.

Kaylynn liked her job; she’d been working since she was sixteen years old. Though occasionally, she couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be not to have to work so she could stay home with Archer. He would be six years old soon. The world revolved around her little boy.

Their older child, Holiday, was Nicolas’s son from his first marriage. Holiday was quiet, spent most of his time playing videos on his computer upstairs in his room. He had politely informed Kaylynn early on in her marriage to his dad that he would not be calling her Mom. He had a mom, and although he rarely saw her, he thought about her often. Kaylynn knew this because he kept a journal. She would never have thought of snooping through his things, but on one particular day, when she and Nicolas were still newlyweds and she was collecting dirty clothes, she saw a notebook sticking out from beneath Holiday’s pillow. Even now, it broke her heart to think of what he’d written.

The first entry she’d read ended up being a good representation of many of the others she had skimmed that day: I spent all night crying, wondering why Mom never showed up. Another entry read, I called her five times. I told her I missed her. Two weeks later, she called to apologize. I could hear someone in the background, and I asked her who was there, but she lied and said she was alone; I asked her if I could live with her, but she told me she was super busy and it wouldn’t work. And so on.

Kaylynn sighed, her thoughts drifting to Rosella when she noticed that the man and the woman had disappeared inside Rosella’s home. It dawned on her then that they must be detectives working the case.

It saddened her to think of Rosella.

Who would do such a thing? She understood why her neighbors had problems with Rosella and why they didn’t care for her. But murder? Sure, Jason Abbott could stand to attend a few anger management courses, but he would never have killed Rosella. And not because he wouldn’t want to risk going to jail, either. He was the one who had cared for the squirrel that had fallen from a tree and hurt its leg a few months ago. For over a week, Jason had kept the squirrel in a box in the basement and spent hours giving the animal food and water through a dropper until it was time to set it free.

Nicolas accused her of liking everyone. He always said she didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Which was why she would make a horrible law enforcement officer, because she would set everyone free, and a horrible teacher, because all the kids would get straight As.

If Nicolas knew what she and Archer did every Thursday on her day off, when he was at work and Holiday was at school, he would go apeshit. He wasn’t a violent man, but if she did something he didn’t like, he would stomp around the house, slam doors, and lecture her for days. That’s why Nicolas could never know she and Archer went to Rosella’s house every week to keep her company for an hour or two.

The social calls had been awkward at first. Mostly it seemed Rosella was trying hard not to like her or Archer, pushing them away at every turn, telling them not to bother coming. Rosella told anyone she met that she didn’t like kids. But it wasn’t true; she liked Archer. Sometimes, Kaylynn thought maybe Rosella was fond of her, too. Despite Rosella’s constant scowl and bitter words, whenever Kaylynn left the room for a minute, she would hear warmth in the woman’s voice as she tried to teach Archer a new game or song. Nobody would believe Kaylynn if she told them, but Rosella looked forward to their visits. And so did Kaylynn and Archer.

Nicolas didn’t trust Rosella, said he thought she was always judging them, which she most certainly was. She and her husband didn’t argue much, except when it came to Rosella. Sure, Rosella was a bit eccentric, but she was also lonely. Kaylynn was confident Rosella would never tell any of the neighbors about their visits because she enjoyed being loathed. She seemed to revel in the hatred directed toward her, wearing it like a badge of honor. If only, Kaylynn thought, Rosella hadn’t started asking so many questions, crossing a line from curious to downright intrusive. What are you so afraid of, Kaylynn? Are you worried about Holiday? He did try to break into my house, you know. Tried to pry open the basement window. I took pictures of the footprints outside the window. He wears a size ten, doesn’t he? You can tell me—everyone has secrets.

Holiday did wear a size ten. That’s when Kaylynn decided to stop visiting.

And then Rosella was killed.

The man and the woman, Kaylynn noticed, were knocking on Becky and Holly’s front door. They must be detectives. They probably had questions. They probably had questions for everyone living on the block. Yes. That made sense. It was a homicide after all. It was logical they would talk to people in the neighborhood.

She put the dishes in the dishwasher and hurried to the living room, where Archer was coloring. Paper and crayons were scattered about the coffee table and floor. She glanced at her watch. She had nearly an hour before she needed to pack everything up and take Archer to Mrs. Whitlock’s house over on T Street in the Newton Booth area.

She thought about leaving a little earlier in case the detectives decided to pay her a visit. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to them. What if they asked her about Rosella? She would freeze up like she always did when someone asked her about something she didn’t want to talk about. The idea of interacting with them filled her with apprehension. What if her reluctance to engage made her appear guilty?