CHAPTER THIRTEEN

C HAPTER T HIRTEEN

Shannon had walked to the mailbox and was heading up the brick steps leading to her front door when she heard an engine and turned toward the street. A Channel 10 News van pulled up to the curb in front of her house. The driver’s door swung open. A young man with wavy brown hair and long, gangly limbs came around the front of the van and opened the side door. Two more people emerged, everyone concentrating on sorting wires and cameras. The woman sitting in the passenger seat jumped out, too.

Shannon recognized her as a reporter on the Channel 10 News. Dark hair, blue eyes, slender build. After brushing invisible wrinkles from her beige pencil skirt, she tucked in her white button-down blouse and grabbed a mic from the seat. She turned Shannon’s way as something caught Shannon’s attention, a movement to her right—a shadowy figure half-hidden behind a California bay laurel with a thick trunk. Whoever it was wore dark clothing and a hoodie pulled low over their face.

“Hello,” the woman said, mic held firmly in front of her chest as she approached. “Devin Hawke with Channel 10 News.”

It took longer than it should have for Shannon to realize why they were here. Rosella. Of course. When she glanced back at the spot where she’d seen the shadowy figure, nobody was there. Feeling off balance, Shannon hoped to escape before the woman cornered her. But Devin Hawke had a lot of experience, and the look of determination on her face said she was here to get what she came for. In the time it took Shannon to glance the other way, Devin had moved fast and was now standing less than a foot away, holding the mic in Shannon’s face. The cameraman stood behind Devin, a heavy-looking piece of equipment settled on his shoulders, his legs set wide as if he were a human tripod.

“We’re here on Forty-Fifth Street in Sacramento with Shannon Gibbons, who lives only a couple of houses away from Rosella Marlow. Is it true you were the last person to see Rosella Marlow alive?”

Shannon’s feet felt like cement blocks. She couldn’t move. And all she could think about was the dark figure she’d spotted up the street. Was it the same person Rosella had said was watching her?

“I-I—”

“She can’t talk right now. You all need to leave.”

Chloe Leavitt to the rescue again, Shannon thought when she spotted her.

Chloe swept past the cameraman and jumped over all the wires. After squeezing her way between Devin and Shannon, Chloe grabbed Shannon’s hand and ushered her up the brick steps and straight through Shannon’s front door. She let Shannon loose and turned back to Devin Hawke. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves. This woman is not only new to the area but also has been through a traumatic experience. Please respect her privacy.”

“And who are you?” Devin asked.

Chloe smacked the door shut and locked it.

Shannon sat on the couch in her living room and let her head fall back on the cushioned seat. “Thank you. I didn’t know what to do. I froze.”

“Understandable.” Chloe was already in her kitchen. She grabbed the teakettle sitting on the stove, filled it with water, put it on a burner, and fired it up.

“You know my kitchen better than me,” Shannon said. “You have saved me twice in two days.”

“It’s what I do,” Chloe said. “I was worried about the local news station coming around and making a nuisance of themselves. I just didn’t think they would show up this quickly.”

The thought of Devin Hawke popping out of a van this morning had never dawned on Shannon. But it should have. Rosella Marlow had been murdered. Of course Channel 10 News would race to the scene of the crime first thing.

Chloe ran around the kitchen like a woman on a mission, grabbing mugs from a cabinet and a spoon from the drawer as she talked. “Everyone in the neighborhood is freaking out, wondering if someone we all know might be capable of murder.”

“I don’t blame them. Who have you talked to?”

Chloe swished a hand through the air. “I talked to Kaylynn last night. She’s worried about her boys. Holiday is sixteen and Archer is almost six. I spoke to Dianne, too. That’s Jason’s wife. She wasn’t happy with him after she found out he came to your house. And I was at Holly and Becky’s house across the street when I saw the news van pull up outside. You’re never going to believe who showed up at their door.”

“Who?”

“The detectives working Rosella’s case.”

“They let you stay?”

Chloe shrugged. “I quickly ushered the kids upstairs and they didn’t try to stop me.”

Shannon walked into the kitchen and sat on a stool. “I wonder why they started with Holly and Becky?”

Chloe placed a mug of tea in front of her. “I know why.”

“You do?” Shannon blew on the tea and took a sip.

“Yep.” Chloe stood on the other side of the island and drank from her own cup. “Guess who was at Rosella’s house Tuesday morning before you got there?”

“Becky?”

“No. Holly.” Chloe set her mug on the counter and filled her in, the words rushing out like water after a dam burst. She talked about the stick doll, the mask with Holly’s name on it, the multiple fingerprints on the murder weapon, and how Holly needed to get fingerprinted, ending with Holly telling the detectives she wanted a lawyer.

“Holly didn’t mind telling you everything?”

A sheepish smile played on Chloe’s lips. “Holly told me she had gone to Rosella’s house the morning of the murder. But when the detectives asked her if she’d been there, she said no.”

“She lied?”

Chloe nodded.

“I thought you said you weren’t in the same room as everyone else?”

“I wasn’t.”

“How—”

“Through the floor vent in Ethan’s room. I could hear the tension in Holly’s and Becky’s voices and see the kitchen table where they were all sitting, including the evidence bags as they were presented to Holly.”

Shannon shook her head in wonder. Was Holly the person she had seen run past Rosella’s office? Could she be the killer? The image of the person she saw in her mind’s eye was at least five-eight. “How tall is Holly?”

“Hmm. Five-three at most,” Chloe said. “I hate to change the subject, but I need to know if you can come over tonight to discuss the Best House on the Block competition. I’ve invited all the women in the neighborhood. Some you know, some you don’t. It will give us a chance to do a quick debrief about the murder.”

“A debrief?”

“Yes. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to know if anyone in the neighborhood might know something about what happened to Rosella.” She anchored her hair behind her ear. “There are multiple fingerprints on the murder weapon. Fingerprints that don’t belong to Rosella or her house cleaner.” Chloe blew out a stream of pent-up air. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to go about my business while waiting for two overworked detectives to figure out who the killer might be. What if I’m next?”

“Why would anyone want to kill you?” Shannon asked.

Chloe waved a hand through the air. “I was kidding. That was a joke.”

“Oh.” Shannon managed a weak smile.

“My point is, I refuse to sit still while a murderer walks around free. I get chills thinking about it.”

“What about Holly?” Shannon asked.

“What about her?”

“She was at the house.”

“So were you.” Chloe’s brow furrowed. “I think it’s too soon to speculate.”

Shannon wanted to ask Chloe about Holly—what she was like and how she felt about Rosella. But she decided it would be best if she went to the meeting at Chloe’s and met Holly in person. “I agree. Patience is key.”

“So you’ll come, right?”

“I don’t want to leave Mac home alone.”

“Bring her, of course. Everyone brings their kids to these things. There will be appetizers and wine, too.” She stood and headed for the door. “Oh. One more thing before I leave.”

Shannon waited.

“Have you made your decision about whether or not you’ll be a judge for the BHOTB award?” Before Shannon could answer she added, “It will give you a chance to meet everyone in the neighborhood. Even Mr. Knightley.”

Shannon chuckled. “Sure. I’ll do it.” She had already been leaning toward saying yes. Mostly because she couldn’t get Rosella’s words out of her head: They are taunting me, and I’m convinced danger lurks in the shadows. Prove me wrong, dear. If you have the courage. Being involved with the Best House competition might be the lead-in she needed to get to know the neighbors. She just needed to ask the right questions. Intuition was a powerful tool, but it wasn’t enough. She needed to respect her neighbors’ privacy and not push too hard. Simply talking and observing them might offer insights into their behavior and maybe lead her to the answers she was seeking.