Chapter 29

Jess

I straighten, surprised. "You heard a gunshot?"

This definitely wasn't in the case files.

I think back to the revolver I found behind Laura's painting. There were no gunshot casings found by the road, which could point to a revolver. A revolver doesn't eject casings, although whoever fired a gun that did could have collected them. The snowstorm would have erased any gunshot residue, any evidence that a gun had been fired.

Could somebody have used the gun on the Harpers, then hidden it at their house? Seems unlikely. Or maybe it wasn't the gun used at all. Maybe Laura had it for a different reason, and there was a second gun out there.

Neither Laura nor Pete had a gun permit, although that doesn't mean they couldn't acquire one illegally. There are more guns than people in the United States, more than enough for every person in the country to have one. It's nothing to go to any sporting goods store or gun show or hell, buy it from some random guy off the street. Guns are stolen from homes, from shops, from cars, from manufacturing sites. There's no shortage of them around.

"Yes." Alice's response is swift and certain.

"You never said this before."

Alice looks shamefaced. "I didn't think they would believe me. They didn't believe I saw a girl. They thought I was crazy."

So somebody was shot. But who? Did Pete shoot whoever he was crouched over? Or did someone shoot him?

"How many shots?"

"Just one."

Theo Moriarty was shot twice.

It doesn't match.

Alice's eyes land on mine. "Everybody thinks my dad did it."

"Did he?"

"No." She presses her palms into her eyes. "I don't know."

Alice folds over, sobs shaking her entire body. I push myself up with my cane, go around the table, and slip into the chair beside her, wrap both arms around her. I can't imagine the pain she's in. How awful to think your own father could take your entire family away from you.

It's been a long time since I've held somebody, offering comfort like this. The weight of her is different than Isla, but she still has that feel to her, fragile, like I'm holding eggshells. Her grief, how much must it weigh?

The thing about grief is that the reality is different from what you think it will be. There's pain inside you that's worse than you ever imagined. It can't be fixed, only carried. But after a while, maybe months, maybe years, maybe one day you realize that pain you're carrying, it isn't a burden, it's a gift. The bigger the pain, the bigger the love. Isn't that what grief is, love persisting?

But while you're in it, you need someone to hold you, to keep you from crawling into the hole that's been blown in your life. I hadn't allowed myself that, and I wish I had. So that's what I do now. I hold Alice as the sounds of the café swirl around us, as prying eyes peer beneath heavy hands. Until eventually she straightens and wipes her damp cheeks.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth." Her voice is raw. "At first, when I was in the hospital, I thought you guys would find my family, and I didn't want him to get in trouble. But then more time went by and you didn't find them, and it was too late to tell the truth. I didn't want you thinking he did it. He couldn't have done it."

I've known a lot of people who've believed the same thing about someone they love, only to one day be proven wrong.

"You said your dad shouted at you. What did he shout?"

Alice's gaze slides away. "I don't know."

She's lying. I can feel it, the sideslipping twist to her voice, the bouncing eyeballs, like Ping-Pong balls. I just can't put my finger on why.

Pete Harper is still everybody's prime suspect. A possible family annihilator, bloated with self-righteous anger after learning his wife was having an affair. Maybe he held her responsible for the breakdown in the family, took out the kids in a mercy killing, made her watch, killed her, then himself.

"They were drinking that night," Alice continues. "All the grown-ups were. Even my dad, who'd promised he wouldn't. I think my mom was annoyed because he'd been drinking more than usual."

"Do you know why?"

"No. It wasn't sudden or anything. Just gradually he started drinking more on weekends and then on weekdays, too. Then one day he went into work drunk. He shouted at one of the other teachers. He got suspended, but it kinda took everyone by surprise."

It's amazing the things you can hide from people, I think. Even the people who know you best.

"I need to ask you something that might make you a bit uncomfortable, okay, Alice?"

She nods, her gaze drifting out the window.

"Were either of your parents having an affair?"

"No. They wouldn't do that."

Her voice is flat, wooden. There's that sense again, like she isn't telling the truth. Like she's playing with me. Tug-of-war or tying a noose around my neck?

What exactly does Alice Harper know?

I lean closer. "I promise you, I'm going to find out the truth, okay?"

She lifts wide blue eyes to mine and nods.

"But to do that," I continue, "I need you to tell me the truth. And, to be honest, Alice, I kind of get the feeling you aren't."

Alice remains mute, her jaw set. Silence floats between us, stubbornness coming off her like an elbow to the throat. I wait, hoping she'll speak, but then the door bursts open, the bell jingling brightly, and Melanie O'Brien enters.

She's wearing a white bobble hat and a knee-length white wool jacket, a red cashmere scarf wrapped around her throat like a gash. She's perfectly made up, her cheeks flushed with that cold-girl-makeup look people talk about, but her face is hard, sharpened by old trauma and not enough food. The woman could do with a hamburger or two.

"Alice!" She drops to her knees next to Alice, her features softening. I have to give her credit; she loves her niece.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Alice assures her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. Were you at the hospital?"

"Yes, but everything's all good." Melanie sets her hat on the table, smooths her stylish pixie-cut blonde hair.

"Mel had a checkup to make sure her pacemaker's working," Alice tells me.

Melanie frowns, obviously uncomfortable with her niece divulging private medical information. "I'm fine. Nothing to worry about."

Relief flashes across Alice's face. I really feel for her. She's lost her whole family; the last thing she needs is to lose her aunt, too.

"Now, for you, young lady, I've made an emergency appointment with Dr. Overton." Melanie turns to me. "Alice, can you give us a minute?"

Alice's gaze flicks between us. She grabs her backpack and leaves without another word. On the overhead speakers, "Feliz Navidad" begins playing, the cheerful beat filling the space between Melanie and me.

"You." She sits, turning a fierce gaze on me. "I don't know if I should thank you for helping Alice or sue you for trying to speak to her without our lawyer present."

She sighs. "I guess I'll start by saying thank you. Alice has been ... troubled since her family disappeared. She's in therapy, of course ..." Her words trail off, and she stares out the window at Alice, who's tapping at her phone.

"While you're here, is it okay if I ask a few questions?" I say.

"I told your partner to speak to my lawyer."

"We can do that, of course. I just thought it might be easier on everybody involved to get these questions out of the way. You're aware, I'm sure, that we found Ella's backpack with the body over by Killer's Grove?"

"Yes, I heard."

"We just want to get answers. For Alice."

I wait as she wrestles with herself. "Fine. Ask me whatever you want, just leave Alice alone. She needs a chance to heal. To move on."

"Do you have any idea why they disappeared?"

"I don't know. Honestly, I don't."

"Laura was your best friend, correct?" I find it hard to believe she knew nothing about Laura's inner struggles and worries, but then we're all experts at hiding pieces of ourselves, the pieces we don't find pretty enough to display. Maybe that's what Laura did, hid the pieces of herself she didn't want others to see.

"Yes. We met in college. We were friends from the start." Her lips curl up, softening the sharp planes of her face. "Laura, she had this smile. Everybody loved her. She was just so accepting. Once she loved you, her loyalty was forever. She used to volunteer with this charity helping kids who'd gone through traumatic experiences paint. She was generous and warm. I don't know anybody who'd want to hurt her."

"And Pete?"

"Everybody loved him, too. He was quieter than Laura. Calm. Steady. They fell in love like falling into water. It was just so natural for them. No drama. They were just ... it."

"Where were you when they went missing?"

Melanie sighs, her frustration clear. "Can't you read the police report?"

"I have. I want to hear it from you."

"I was with my son, Finn. He'd woken up crying. It was late, so I laid down with him, and I ended up falling asleep. When I woke a few hours later, my chest hurt. I couldn't get back to sleep, so I went to Jack. He took me to the hospital."

It tracks with what Jack said. "Just one final question. Who was Theo Moriarty?"

"Theo." She gives a small, derisive laugh. "Why are you asking about him?"

I pull the pay slip Alice gave me from my pocket and slide it to her. "He worked for your husband's company shortly before the Harpers went missing. Who was he?"

"Theo was Laura's boyfriend before she met Pete."

I blink, surprised. "Did Pete know this?"

"I don't think so. She never said."

"I've heard rumors of an affair."

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. "No way. Neither of them would've cheated. I can tell you that for sure."

"Why was Theo in Black Lake?"

"I think he found out her brother had made it big-time. Laura, of course, thought it was just chance. She always gave people the benefit of the doubt. She started spending time with Theo again, nothing suspicious, just lunchtime picnics, but it worried me. Even in college, Theo was bad news. Drugs, assault, a total loser. At first Laura didn't see it. She was charmed by him. But you know how it goes. The shine eventually faded and they broke up." Her voice breaks and she clears her throat, her eyes shimmering with tears.

"But she loved Theo once?"

Melanie dabs at her eyes with a tissue. "Back then, yes. But it wasn't like she pined for him after they split. She said it was better to move forward than to stay stuck in the past. We can't rewrite history."

"Is that what you've done?"

"I'm trying."

"And what about Jack?"

"What about him?"

"He and Laura fought before she disappeared. About money. How's he dealing with that?"

Melanie's white teeth grasp her bottom lip, worrying the red skin. I wait, holding my breath, because I can feel it. She's holding something back.

Melanie draws in a ragged breath, again glancing outside at Alice. "You should talk to my husband, Detective."

"And what would I ask him?"

Melanie stands, taps one long fingernail, painted bloodred to match her scarf, on the wooden table. "You would ask him about the money that went missing from his company. The money Laura and Theo stole from him."

I sit back, a puzzle piece clunking into place. The cash I found in Laura's paintings.

Before I have time to ask anything else, Melanie sweeps out of the café.

I throw a twenty on the table and grab my cane, hurry after her out onto the snowy street. But it's too late. She's already too far down the road, one arm wrapped around Alice's shoulders.

I turn, heading back to my motorcycle, when I see someone standing just across the road staring at me.

Shane.

He's caught me talking to Alice and Melanie behind his back.

And he looks furious.