CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

C HAPTER T WENTY -S EVEN

After school, Blake and Ridley dropped Mac off at her house. Mac stood in the driveway, taking in the beauty around her. The entire block was canopied by trees. It was so pretty. And yet, Rosella Marlow’s sudden death had changed things around here. Everyone was acting different, including her mom. She hardly ever saw Dad, which was sad because she missed him. Two new friends at school each had a parent who was a doctor. They told Mac she better get used to not seeing a lot of him. Another student said it would be fine and to make the most of the time she did have with him. That was good advice, Mac thought, especially since she would be going off to college in a couple of years. She headed for the house, hoping she could talk her mom into taking a bike ride with her, maybe explore the area a little, do something different, have some fun.

Inside the house, Mac called out for her mom. There was no answer. She grabbed her cell phone from her backpack and saw a text from Mom. She was running a few errands and would be back in an hour. Mac texted back to let her know she was going to take a quick bike ride to Compton’s Market to get a sandwich. She was starved and had been craving their Philly Cheese Steak sandwich with marinated steak and onions on a superfresh roll.

She navigated her bike out onto the driveway, grabbed her helmet, and closed the garage door before making her way back inside the house. After putting on sneakers, she went back outside and was surprised to see a piece of paper taped to her bike’s handlebar:

Meet me at Bertha Henschel Park on Forty-Fifth Street

—Blake

Mac looked around. Nobody was there. She used her phone to see where the park was located on Google Maps. It was close by. She could stop there on her way. But why, she wondered, hadn’t Blake just knocked on her door or texted her? Maybe he wanted to tell her why he and his sister had been acting so secretive. Ridley did tell Mac today about her mom fainting after being interviewed by the two detectives making the rounds. That incident probably hadn’t helped Blake’s mood. But still, he’d been acting weird for a few days now. What was going on with him?

A few minutes later, Mac arrived at Blake’s designated spot, a small neighborhood park, set in a residential area but superprivate because of all the trees. Mac walked her bike across a weedy lawn. There was a playground for kids under five. Southwest of that were a basketball court and lots of trees. Either Blake wasn’t here yet or she couldn’t see him within the shade of the trees.

Nobody was here.

She stopped to pull her phone from her pocket, ready to text Blake, when a man dressed in jeans and a hoodie appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed her from behind, his arms circling her waist. Mac’s bike toppled over. Her phone slipped out of her hand and fell to the ground. Her adrenaline raced as she tried to get out of his grasp. She wriggled and screamed, slammed her foot down on top of his.

He yipped. “Tell your bitch mother and her friend to stay out of everyone’s business, or someone’s going to get hurt.”

Bent over, Mac managed to loosen one of his arms and bring her head close enough to his forearm to bite him. She dug her teeth into his flesh.

“Shit!” He jerked his arm back and shoved her away from him. Mac fell sideways, tripping over her bike. The metal bars smacked against her side. Her elbow slammed into the hard dirt. Pain sliced through her hip. It took her a second to move.

Her attacker had disappeared. A man and woman ran across the field toward her. They were older but in decent shape, and they helped her untangle her limbs and get to her feet. She was bruised, but nothing was broken.

“Do you want us to call anyone? The police?” the woman asked.

Mac gingerly brushed the dirt from her clothes. “No. I’m okay. I only live a few minutes away.”

The man picked up her phone and handed it to her.

“She lives close by,” the woman told her husband. He grabbed her bike. “We’re going to walk you home,” the woman said. “I won’t be able to go on with my day until I know you made it home safely.”

Thankful to have them escort her home, Mac didn’t protest. Her attacker had scared her more than she was letting on. Now that the shock was wearing off, her knees wobbled and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Shannon pulled into the driveway. They said goodbye. Chloe climbed out of the car and headed for home. Shannon was eager to log on to her computer and research kidnappings in the area. Her plan was to make notes about everything going on. There was a lot of information to take in, and it was becoming difficult to keep it all straight. But when she walked into the house, Mac ran into her arms. Her daughter was sobbing.

Shannon was furious to learn that she had been attacked in the park and that it seemed to have something to do with Shannon and Chloe’s investigation. The first thing she did was call Detective Seicinski, who said she was in the area and would stop by. Before Shannon and Mac had a chance to go over all the details, the detective was sitting in their living room.

“If it’s okay with you,” Detective Seicinski said, “I would like to question your daughter.”

“That’s fine, but I’m not leaving the room,” Shannon said.

Detective Seicinski nodded and turned her attention to Mac, who sat on the couch next to Shannon. “In your own words, go ahead and tell me what happened, starting at the point where you found a note on your bike.”

“I thought the note was from my friend Blake.”

“Blake is Chloe Leavitt’s son,” Shannon explained.

“He has a twin sister,” Detective Seicinski said. “Correct?”

Shannon nodded. “Her name is Ridley.”

Mac said, “I still have the note if you want to see it?”

“Yes,” Detective Seicinski said. “I’ll put on my gloves and bag it so I can take it to the lab to check for prints.”

“I already touched it,” Mac said. “More than once.”

The detective nodded. “That’s okay.” After the note had been taken care of and Mac had finished telling the detective what happened, Detective Seicinski continued with her questioning. “How well do you know Blake Leavitt?”

“Um, not well, I guess.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Only a week.”

“Then it’s safe to say you wouldn’t recognize his handwriting?”

“No. I wouldn’t. And I did think it was sorta weird he didn’t just come over to the house if he wanted to talk to me.”

“Did you have any idea about what he might have wanted to talk to you about?”

“I wasn’t sure. But I was hoping to find out why he’s been acting so strange lately.”

Detective Seicinski wrote something down. “Strange in what way?”

Shannon could tell that her daughter felt awkward talking about Blake. He gave her a ride to and from school, and she probably didn’t want to involve him.

“Not strange,” Mac answered. “Just quiet.”

“Okay. Let’s move on for now. The man who attacked you. Did he speak to you?”

“Yes. He said, ‘Tell your bitch mother and her friend to stay out of everyone’s business, or someone’s going to get hurt.’”

Shannon stiffened, shocked. The first time Mac had told her what happened, she’d said he didn’t want her mom and her mom’s friend in his business, but that was it.

“Do you know what he meant by that?”

Mac glanced at Shannon, who simply nodded. “I know my mom wants to find out who murdered Rosella.”

“Okay,” the detective said. “Did you recognize his voice?”

“No.”

“Can you describe him for me?”

“I couldn’t see his face, but I know he was white. Beneath his dark hoodie, he was wearing a black beanie. He also wore jeans and sneakers with holes in them. It looked as if he’d rubbed dirt on his face, and I thought maybe he was trying to disguise himself.”

“And yet you’re sure he was white skinned.”

“Yes. Definitely. When I was fighting him off, I bit his arm. That’s how I knew for sure.”

“How tall would you say he was?”

“My dad’s height.”

“Trey is six feet,” Shannon offered.

“Anything else you can think of?” Detective Seicinski asked Mac.

She shook her head.

“Your mom has my number if you do remember anything that might be of help to us later on.”

“Okay,” Mac said.

Detective Seicinski stood. “One more thing. You said you fell. Any bruises?”

Mac stood and lifted her shirt high enough to see her belly button, turning both ways. There were purplish bruises on her right side.

“Do you mind if I take a picture?”

“I don’t mind.” Mac looked at Shannon, who gave the detective the go-ahead.

A few minutes later, as Shannon walked Detective Seicinski to the door, the detective’s phone rang. She stepped to the side to answer it. “We can’t charge her,” she told the caller. “That’s right. Let her go.”

By the time the detective finished her call, Shannon was standing at the entry with the door open. The detective stepped outside. “You should know your fingerprints were indeed found on the murder weapon.”

Although it wasn’t a surprise, since she’d already told the detective that she’d touched the letter opener, that didn’t stop Shannon’s insides from twisting.

“Holly Bateman’s fingerprints were also found on the murder weapon.”

Shannon said nothing.

The way the detective was staring at Shannon made her think she was searching for something. Maybe she expected a reaction, but Shannon already knew about Holly.

“She was arrested this morning, but we’ve decided to let her go for now.”

“What happens next?”

“This is a case surrounded by unusual circumstances. We’re considering polygraph tests, but we still have a lot of work to do. If I were you,” Detective Seicinski said, her expression grave, “I would tie up any loose ends you might have around here. Just in case.”

“Are you saying I might be arrested?”

Detective Seicinski’s shrug said it all.

“But you know why I was at Rosella’s house. I didn’t do it.”

“Holly said the same thing ... that she didn’t do it.” The detective stared at her. “Let it go. Let the professionals do their jobs. Okay?”

No way in hell, Shannon thought. Her daughter had been attacked, and her own freedom was now on the line. The clock was ticking.

“Let me know if your daughter remembers anything more about the man in the park.” Detective Seicinski turned and walked away.