The sheriff’s station smelled like burnt coffee and old paperwork. Detective Merrick sat across from me in a pale green interview room. “Mrs. Foster, I need you to walk me through everything again.” I repeated it all, but this time I forced myself to remember more. The background noise on Danny’s call. Water. Running water, like…
“That’s impossible.” “This deed is dated last month. And according to the document, you signed the property over to your son, Robert, and his wife, Vanessa.” “That’s insane. I would never sign away this farm.” But even as I said it, doubt crept in. Vanessa was always putting papers in front of me during dinner—insurance…
Why? What’s happening?” “That body. We just identified her through her phone.” “Who is she?” Tom’s jaw tightened. “Her name was Rachel Morrison. She worked at County Records, and according to her phone logs, she’d been in contact with your grandson, Danny, multiple times over the past two weeks.” He paused, letting the weight of his…
The implication crashed over me. Someone had wanted to kill me, and somehow, impossibly, Danny had known. Tom’s radio erupted with urgent voices. He pressed it to his ear, his face darkening. He looked at me, and I saw something that made my heart stop. Not just concern now, but suspicion. “Alexia, I need you…
“Who specifically would know you take the bus on Tuesday and Friday mornings from this stop?” Tom asked, his voice low. “My family, the other regular riders… half the town, probably.” “Tom, what are you suggesting?” “I’m not suggesting anything yet. But someone was killed here, wearing a coat identical to yours, at the exact…
“Mom, you’re not getting any younger,” Robert would say, parroting his wife. “This place is too much for you.” But it wasn’t too much. It was my life. A young detective with sharp eyes approached. “I’m Detective Roxane Merrick. I understand your grandson may have information.” I explained again about Danny’s call. She exchanged a glance…
I repeated the conversation word for word. “Where is Danny now?” “I don’t know. He sounded terrified.” “When did you last see him?” “Sunday dinner. Three days ago. He seemed fine then.” But even as I said it, I wondered. Had he seemed normal, or had I been too caught up in the usual family…
“We haven’t identified her yet, but Alexia…” he paused, his eyes searching mine, “…she was wearing a red coat. Cherry red, just like yours.” My knees went weak. Tom caught my elbow, steadying me. Through the windshield of his patrol car, I could see them photographing a shape covered with a white tarp. “Tom,” I…
Sheriff Tom Brennan saw me approaching and stepped forward, his hand raised. “Mrs. Alexia Foster, you need to stay back.” “Tom, what happened? I need to catch the bus.” “There won’t be a bus this morning, Alexia.” His face was grave. We’d gone to high school together forty-five years ago. “There’s been an incident.” “What kind of…
At nine o’clock, I walked down our long gravel driveway toward the county road where the bus stopped. I’d been taking the same bus into town every Tuesday and Friday for five years, ever since my husband, Frank, passed. The routine was comforting. But today, there was no bus. Instead, there were police cars, four of…