CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

C HAPTER T HIRTY -O NE

The next day, minutes after arriving home from the police station, Chloe’s cell phone rang. It was Shannon. She tapped the screen to answer the call. “Hi,” she said, trying hard to hold herself together. It was impossible to comprehend how her child could have ended up in this situation. The guilt she felt for not being able to prevent this from happening ate at her insides. She’d never felt so helpless in her life, unable to figure out what to do next. It hadn’t helped when Wesley showed up at the police station, hungover and begging her forgiveness, causing her even more stress.

“I’m not even going to ask how you’re doing.” Shannon told her. “But I do need to talk to you. Trey and Mac are out playing pickleball. Can you come over?”

“What’s this about?”

“It’s about getting Blake out of jail. To do that, we need to figure out who the killer is.”

Chloe’s shoulders fell. Figuring out who killed Rosella was like paddling a canoe across Lake Natoma in hopes of finding a lost diamond ring. “How do you propose we do that?”

“We revisit the notes to search for overlooked details or new insights.”

Instead of cleaning, Chloe wanted to go back to bed, stare at the ceiling, and disengage. “I don’t know, Shannon. This feels worse than searching for a needle in ten haystacks.”

Shannon didn’t seem to be listening to a word Chloe said, because she kept right on talking.

“Rosella must have given me those notes for a reason. If her instincts were anywhere near as good as she thought they were, she probably felt there was a chance I might find a clue or a piece of information she’d forgotten about.”

“She could have gone through the pile of crap herself. Why did she need you to go through her notes?”

“Being too close to a project can limit a person’s perspective. Maybe that’s why she gave it all to me.”

Chloe exhaled. “I don’t have much of a choice, it appears, but to do my darndest to try and figure this mystery out, do I?”

There was no response.

“I’ll be there soon.”

Chloe felt sick to her stomach. Seeing Blake in an orange jumpsuit, handcuffed, and looking so damned resigned to sticking to his story, had been too much. She’d pleaded with Detective Seicinski, tried to make her see that Blake was innocent, but she wasn’t budging. The detectives wanted to close this case and move on.

Fuck Seicinski and Toye. Chloe might be Blake’s only chance of getting out of jail. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t slept more than five hours in two nights. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, either. Sleep and food were overrated; she didn’t have time for them. With renewed energy, Chloe grabbed her purse and headed out.

The door to Shannon’s home opened before Chloe had a chance to knock. They said nothing. No point. This was business. Shannon made her way to the two stacks of papers sitting on the kitchen counter. A pad of paper with Shannon’s notes, organized and neat, rested on the counter, too.

Chloe tapped on the name and date written at the top of the pad. “Bradley. Who’s that?”

Shannon was across the way, pouring coffee into mugs. “I don’t know. I’ve read through those notes dozens of times, and I noticed the name Bradley was mentioned more than once.” She absentmindedly played with a strand of hair. “Too bad Rosella didn’t give us more insight into what her scribblings meant.”

“And what about the month of July?”

“Rosella scribbled the word July a total of six times. She even made a box around the month. So I wrote it down.” Shannon set a cup of hot coffee in front of Chloe and took a seat on the stool next to her.

“What about the kidnapping?”

“I couldn’t find a kidnapping involving a child in the area.”

“It could have happened anywhere,” Chloe said. “But what I’m trying to say is maybe Bradley was kidnapped in July .” She started tapping on her phone.

Shannon did the same.

“I had no idea a Bradley was a fighting vehicle,” Chloe said.

“I see a Stephen Bradley,” Shannon said. “Oh, never mind. He was the kidnapper. Apparently, he kidnapped an eight-year-old boy. It happened a long time ago.”

“There’s a long list of Bradley kidnappings, but I don’t see any children under the age of ten. And most of them happened a decade ago or longer.”

“Maybe we should spend more time on this later, since there are so many Bradleys.” Shannon took a swallow of coffee. “I think it would be a good idea to cross people off our list. People we know who we believe had nothing to do with what happened to Rosella.”

Chloe noticed the list Shannon had made of all the names on the block. Everyone living close to Rosella, including teenagers. “Okay. Where do we start? Who do we cross off first?”

Shannon didn’t pick up the pen, so Chloe did. She drew a line through Peggy’s name. “She’s too old.”

“Okay,” Shannon agreed. “Leave her crossed off. She seemed legitimately upset about Rosella’s death. We can cross off our names because we both have alibis.”

“You could have killed Rosella the first day you met her,” Chloe said. She puffed her cheeks and blew the air out. “This isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“Stay focused. I could not have killed Rosella on Monday morning because the ME report stated she was stabbed within twelve hours of my being there on Tuesday, but she didn’t die until I arrived.”

“So you could be the murderer,” Chloe said.

“Technically, yes. Leave my name on the list.”

Chloe crossed her name off. “I have an alibi. Wesley was out of town and my kids would have heard me leave the house.” Her body sagged. “Okay, I’ll leave my name on the list, too.” She wrote her name at the top again.

“Can I cross out Mac, Blake, Ridley, or Holiday’s name?”

“No. I met Holiday a few days ago,” Shannon said. “He was wearing a shirt with a hole in it.”

“So?”

“I didn’t think much of it at the time, but while I was in Rosella’s house waiting for Detective Seicinski to talk to me, I spotted a piece of torn fabric. It had gotten caught in the woodwork in the archway between the living room and the bottom of the stairs.”

“And?”

“And I’m positive it matched the fabric of the shirt Holiday was wearing when I talked to him.”

Chloe blew air through her teeth. “Okay. I need to try and be unbiased.”

Shannon nodded.

“The piece of cloth, assuming it’s the same bit of cloth from Holiday’s shirt, means Holiday was inside Rosella’s house,” Chloe said. “Rosella had a cleaner at the house once a week. The cleaning lady is thorough. She used to clean my house. And so this tells us Holiday was not only inside Rosella’s house but also there recently.”

“I agree.”

Chloe reread the list. “Mac didn’t know Rosella, but that doesn’t mean shit.” She tossed the pen to the side. “We can’t cross anyone off the damn list.”

“I agree,” Shannon said. “It’s too soon.”

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “You know what’s really far-fetched?”

“What?”

“I don’t think a day has gone by that we haven’t done something together since we met. I already feel as if I’ve known you my whole life.” Chloe not only had confidence in Shannon but also felt a fondness and warmth toward her. “With everything going on lately, I’m grateful to have you around.”

“I feel the same way,” Shannon said. “You make me feel understood and appreciated. It’s comforting to feel valued by another human being.”

“Agreed.”

“Aww.” Chloe put an arm around Shannon’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Too bad I can’t cross your name off our murder list.”

“That does suck.”

Chloe watched Shannon pick up her phone and begin to scroll. “What are you doing?”

“I’m looking at pictures I took at the spaghetti fundraiser yesterday.”

Chloe scooted closer so she could look at the pictures with her. “Holly did such a good job yesterday. Too bad she didn’t get to enjoy it.”

“Mm-hm,” Shannon said. “What about Jason Abbott?”

“What about him?”

“He used to be my number one suspect, but now he blends in with everyone else.”

Chloe leaned closer to take a look at the picture of Dianne, Jason, and Finn standing outside their house before yesterday’s event.

“What about Dianne?” Shannon asked.

“Wait a minute.” Chloe pointed at the picture, more particularly at the roofline near the garage. “See those wires?”

Shannon nodded.

“Where’s the camera? They used to have a security camera out front.” Chloe jumped to her feet.

Shannon’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think? We need to talk to her. The Abbotts had cameras everywhere, and their house is right smack next to Rosella’s. We need to see if Dianne has video of the night Rosella was killed.”

Minutes later, Shannon and Chloe were standing in front of Dianne’s door, knocking. Dianne opened the door and frowned. “What do you guys want? I have to get ready for work soon.”

Chloe tried to peek over Dianne’s head. “Where’s Jason?”

“At the park with Finn. If I remember correctly, I’m the only one in the neighborhood who has to work on Sundays.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said. “We have a couple of questions, and then we’ll leave.”

Dianne let them in. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve got five minutes, Sherlock.”

Chloe said, “Security cameras. Where are they?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” Chloe knocked Shannon’s arm. “Show her the picture. Please.”

Shannon pulled out her cell, tapped her finger on the screen, and handed her phone to Dianne, who said, “What am I looking at?”

Chloe pointed to the garage. “See those wires? You and Jason installed cameras over a month ago, so where are they?”

Dianne stiffened. “Jason removed them. I don’t know when.”

Dianne couldn’t even maintain eye contact. She obviously thought her husband had killed Rosella. Maybe he had. Upon seeing desperation in the woman’s eyes, Chloe decided she needed to stay composed. “Have you even looked at the app?”

Dianne shook her head.

“Please, Dianne? I’m begging you. Blake is in jail. I need to see the videos.”

“Come on,” Dianne said. “Follow me.”

Chloe and Shannon exchanged a quick glance before they followed Dianne into the kitchen. Chloe noticed the peeling vintage wallpaper and the wood cabinets that needed a good cleaning. Even when distressed, these things drove her nuts. What was wrong with her?

Dianne held her phone. She input a passcode, tapped the app, and handed the phone over to Chloe. “You have the same cameras at your place. You’ll probably be able to find what you need faster than I will.”

Chloe was surprised she was letting her look at all. Was it because of Blake? It could be any number of reasons. Chloe didn’t ask. She needed to hurry before Jason returned or Dianne changed her mind. She scrolled through the tiny thumb-size photos, which was getting her nowhere fast. She selected videos on camera number two, since it overlooked Dianne’s side yard, which should pick up what was going on outside Rosella’s basement.

“Rosella was killed Monday night or Tuesday,” Shannon said. “The videos are dated. Start with the video on Sunday night.”

Shannon stood on one side of her, and Dianne stood on the other.

“There won’t be any video recordings unless someone was in the yard or an animal activated the camera,” Chloe said.

Dianne reached over Chloe’s arm and clicked on the video taken on Friday night. “Oops. Wrong one,” she said.

For ten seconds they saw nothing but basement windows and shrubs illuminated by moonlight. Seconds later, someone appeared holding a flashlight. The person wore a camouflage hoodie and held a tool in their hand.

“Is that a crowbar?” Shannon asked.

“Fuck,” Dianne said.

A house light came on. The person in the hoodie stopped whatever they’d been doing and ran off.

“Rosella told me someone tried to break into the basement window,” Shannon said. “The police were called, but nothing came of it.”

“I bought Jason that hoodie for when he goes hunting with his buddies.”

Chloe’s head tilted. “You’re acting very calm about the whole thing. We just saw your husband trying to break into Rosella’s house. We can’t—”

“It wasn’t Jason.”

Shannon said, “But you just told us you bought him the hoodie.”

“I did. But Jason wasn’t wearing it that night. I was. That’s me in the video.”

Chloe scrunched her nose. “What the hell?”

“I wasn’t going to kill her,” Dianne said, her shoulders sagging. “I only wanted to scare her.”

“What in the world!” Chloe said. “What were you going to do once you got inside?”

Dianne was trembling. “I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten that far. When the light came on, I ran. If it makes you two feeling any better, I regretted doing it.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Chloe said before tapping on the next video. The video was dated Monday night. It was triggered when Jason entered the side yard carrying bags of trash and tossed the bags into the garbage bin.

Next, Chloe clicked on one of three videos taken Tuesday morning. It was dark out, but the stars made it possible for them to see shadows until a flash of light suddenly illuminated the grass and shone on Rosella’s basement window. This time two figures appeared, Blake and Ridley. Chloe knew their silhouettes just as Dianne had known the hoodie belonged to Jason. When the video ended, Chloe tapped her finger on the next one. Blake opened the window before he and Ridley slipped through it and into the garage. The video ended.

Chloe thought she might be sick. She clicked on the last video and saw both Blake and Ridley crawl back through the window and run off.

“Look at the time,” Shannon said, pointing. “They were only inside the house for four minutes. No way was that enough time—”

Before she could finish her sentence, another figure came into view.

“Who is that?” Dianne asked, pressing into Chloe’s arm.

A darkly clad figure had appeared seconds after Blake and Ridley headed toward home. Too soon to have been Blake, Chloe thought, since he’d told the detectives he had gone back home with Ridley and returned after she fell asleep.

“Is it Holiday?” Shannon asked.

“I don’t know,” Dianne said as the person climbed through the same window Blake and Ridley had used.

“Can you go back and pause it?” Shannon asked.

Chloe did as she asked.

“It looks like he’s wearing a baseball cap underneath the hoodie.”

There was an emblem on the cap. The person disappeared inside Rosella’s garage. The video shut down after ten minutes and there were no further videos.

“Nobody ever came out,” Dianne said.

Shannon frowned. “Was he still there when I arrived before eight the next morning?”

“No telling,” Chloe said.

“It tells me it wasn’t Jason,” Dianne said excitedly. “He was in bed next to me all night. I’m a light sleeper. I would have known if he’d been gone for that long.”

“I’m going to copy and send this video to my phone, okay?” Chloe asked.

“Sure,” Dianne said.

Chloe’s shoulders sagged as if a heavy weight had been lifted from them. Tears welled in her eyes as she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She prayed the video would be enough to prove Blake’s innocence.