CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

C HAPTER T WENTY -E IGHT

Chloe answered the door thinking it was Wesley, back to beg her forgiveness. Instead, she found herself staring at Detective Seicinski. She was not happy to see her. “I answered all of your questions yesterday.”

“And again,” Detective Seicinski said, “I thank you for your cooperation.”

A dark sedan pulled up to the curb in front of Chloe’s house. Detective Toye emerged from the vehicle. As he approached, he said to his partner, “Came as soon as I could.”

Detective Seicinski nodded at him before turning back to face Chloe.

“What do you want?” Chloe asked.

“MacKenzie Gibbons was attacked at a nearby park.”

“What?” Chloe felt the blood drain from her face. “Is she okay?”

“She’s bruised and shaken up, but she’ll be fine. We would like to talk to your son Blake.”

“Why?”

“The note left on MacKenzie’s bike was signed by Blake.”

“What does a note have to do with Mac being attacked?”

Detective Seicinski didn’t move. “It’s best if we all talk inside.”

Chloe sighed. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. Come in.”

“While we’re at it, we’d like to talk to your daughter, too.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t stop them from entering. No reason to draw this whole thing out. She shut the door and gestured toward the living room. “Make yourself at home. You know where to sit. I’ll get the kids.” Chloe made her way upstairs. She found Blake in his room, told him what had happened to Mac and how the detectives were here to talk to him because of a note. “You didn’t leave a note for Mac asking her to meet you at the park, did you?”

“No,” he said. “Why would I do that when she lives two houses away from us?”

“That’s what I thought. They’re going to be asking you the same question.”

“I don’t mind,” Blake said. “I have nothing to hide. But I am worried about you. Are you okay, Mom?”

“I’ve been better. But don’t worry. I won’t faint, I promise.”

“How long have they been here?”

“A few minutes,” Chloe told him. “I have to find your sister. They want to talk to Ridley, too.”

“Why would they want to talk to Ridley?”

Blake’s concern for his sister worried her. “I don’t know, but everything’s going to be okay. We need to stay calm, answer their questions to the best of our ability, and hope this is the last time we see them.”

“I’ll get Ridley and meet you down there,” Blake said, avoiding eye contact.

Chloe pointed to Carlin. “Make sure the dog stays in your room. He doesn’t like the male detective.”

Chloe headed downstairs, thankful Rowan was at a friend’s house. She offered the detectives something to drink. They declined. A minute later, Blake walked into the room with Ridley right behind him. They were seventeen, Chloe thought, but they were still her babies. She wanted to protect them, and yet she felt powerless.

The detectives were sitting in the same spots on the couch as where they’d sat yesterday. Once again, Detective Seicinski took the lead. “Blake,” she said. “We’ll start with you, if you don’t mind?”

“That’s fine.”

“Your new neighbor, MacKenzie Gibbons—”

“We call her Mac.”

“Okay, after returning home from school, Mac decided to take a bike ride. After running back inside the house to get her sneakers, she went back to her bike and found a note taped to the handlebar.” Detective Seicinski handed him an evidence bag. “Go ahead and read the note.”

As he did so, Ridley leaned close and read along with him.

“Is that your handwriting?” the detective asked.

“No,” Blake said. “If I had wanted to talk to Mac, I would have walked two houses down and knocked on her door.”

“That’s what she told us.”

Chloe noticed his shoulders relax.

Detective Seicinski asked, “Could you please pull up your shirtsleeves and extend both arms?”

Blake did as the detective requested.

“What are you looking for?” Chloe asked, her heart racing.

“While at the park,” Detective Seicinski continued, “Mac was attacked by a man about your son’s height. She was able to fight him off, but not before he gave her a warning.”

“What was the warning?” Chloe asked.

The detective pulled out her notebook and read verbatim, “Tell your bitch mother and her friend to stay out of everyone’s business, or someone’s going to get hurt.”

Goose bumps sprang up on Chloe’s arms.

The detective directed her attention on Blake. “Mac mentioned you’ve been quiet lately. Is anything wrong?”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Blake said. “I’m fine.”

Chloe stiffened. “You said specifically the attacker was my son’s height, and now you’re talking about him being quiet for some reason. Are you suggesting Blake attacked Mac?”

“No. I’m not suggesting that at all. Merely asking questions, trying to get to the bottom of this.”

Chloe wanted to kick them out but figured it would only make things worse.

“What about the doll made from sticks?” Detective Toye asked, taking Chloe by surprise.

“What about it?” Blake asked, still composed.

“Did you or your sister have anything to do with the doll left at Rosella’s house?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? We have a witness who saw two people with a flashlight outside Rosella’s house on Monday night. Forensics has been back to the house to collect footprints from the area pointed out by the witness.”

“I’m sure.”

“Are we finished here?” Chloe asked.

Detective Seicinski shook her head. “Almost.” She fiddled with her phone and placed it on the coffee table. “Ridley, would you mind taking a look at the letters on my phone?”

Chloe walked over to her daughter, once again hovering as she read the letters, her stomach curdling. It took everything Chloe had inside her to stay composed.

Mrs. Marlow,

I know you think I’m a child, but I’ll be sixteen soon, only a few years younger than Daniel. We love each other and I don’t think it’s fair of you to keep us apart. With or without your approval, we will be together someday. Love always finds a way. We both know that Daniel would do anything for you, so please, I’m asking ... begging you to let us spend some time together.

—Ridley

The second letter was short, but not so sweet, written months before Daniel’s tragic death fifteen months ago.

Mrs. Marlow,

You are mean and cruel. Your son hates you. I hate you. And more than anything, I wish you were dead. —Ridley

“Did you write these letters?” Detective Seicinski asked Ridley.

“Yes,” Ridley answered before Chloe could stop her.

“You and Daniel were in love?”

“Yes. I still love him. Rosella had no right to keep us apart. I’m glad she’s dead.”

Her daughter’s words sucked the air out of the room. It took everything she had not to crumple to the floor with guilt and concern for her daughter’s well-being. Her suspicions about Ridley had been confirmed. Ridley had been suffering on her own, without Chloe’s support. How had she missed the signs? And why hadn’t Ridley felt comfortable sharing her feelings?

“Stop,” Chloe said, her heart racing. “We’re done here. Get out of my house. Now.” The note left on Mac’s bike wasn’t the only reason the detectives had come. In her opinion, they also came here to get a rise out of her daughter. They were increasingly intrusive, and as far as she was concerned, this was an abuse of authority.

After the detectives left, Chloe stopped Ridley from heading upstairs and steered her back into the living room, where Blake still sat, his gaze on nothing, as if in a trance. Ridley took a seat in the same chair next to her brother. Chloe sat on the couch, leaned forward, and said, “You’re both going to tell me what’s going on.” Every muscle in her body hummed. Enough was enough. She needed to know everything.

“Nothing is going on,” Ridley said, her tone defiant. “Daniel and I loved each other and now he’s dead. All because of Rosella.”

“Rosella was murdered,” Chloe reminded her.

“She got what she had coming to her,” Ridley said, her tone flat. “She never should have kept us apart.”

Ridley didn’t look at Chloe. She sat there emotionless—no tears, no more words.

Chloe was her mom, and despite Ridley’s apparent lack of compassion or empathy for Rosella, she understood Ridley’s reaction had more to do with grief and teenage love. Closure, Chloe thought, was an important part of grieving, and her daughter hadn’t gotten that. She loved her daughter, and it broke her heart to see her in pain.

“Daniel and Ridley had burner phones,” Blake told Chloe, his face reddening as he appeared to come back to life. “Rosella sent Daniel away to college back east to keep them from being together, but they still found a way to talk to each other every day.”

“Big deal,” Ridley said, clearly annoyed at her brother for speaking up. “Rosella called me to her house to talk with me and told me I was never to see Daniel or talk to him again. She called me a whore and a slut. Even Daniel hated her, but he wanted to finish school and get a job before cutting all ties with her.”

Elbows propped on his knees, Blake rubbed his hands over his face, as if he hoped to scrub away his frustrations. “You just needed to be patient,” he muttered.

“What do you mean?” Chloe asked him.

“Ridley needed to calm down and wait for Daniel to finish school. That’s all she had to do. Instead, she spent every moment of her life worrying about their relationship and being kept apart. She changed, and I didn’t like it. After Daniel died, Ridley blamed Rosella for Daniel’s death.” He shook his head. “It’s stupid to blame someone for an accident nobody can control. But Ridley couldn’t let it go. Not before his death, and certainly not after.”

“Blake’s never been in love!” Ridley cried. “He has a new girlfriend every month.”

Blake went on as if his sister hadn’t said a word. “Ridley made that stupid stick doll you saw the other day, the one with the nail through the head and the red polish made to look like blood. She asked me to go with her to put it inside Rosella’s house. I didn’t want to do it, but I knew if I didn’t go with her, she would do it alone.”

Ridley had lied to her when she’d asked her about the doll. Somewhere along the way, Chloe had lost her daughter’s trust. She shut her eyes for a long moment before opening them. “Where did you leave the doll?”

“Next to the knife block in the kitchen,” Ridley said without remorse.

“But neither of you saw Rosella that night?” Chloe asked.

“No,” Blake said. “After Ridley put the doll in the kitchen, we left through the basement window, the same way we entered.”

“And you didn’t see anything unusual when you were inside her house? An open window or a door ajar?”

“Everything looked the same to me,” Ridley said.

Blake nodded his agreement. “The lights were all off. Rosella had to be asleep.”

Or dead, Chloe thought.