A Matter of Trust

Chapter 37





It wasn’t even the well-loved stuffed brown bear that broke Mia’s heart. Instead it was the algebra textbook.

The textbook lay next to the sleeping bag in the master bedroom of the supposedly empty house across the street from Colleen’s. The carpet still had dents marking where a bed, a dresser, and two night tables had once stood. But now there was just this twisted blue sleeping bag and a teddy bear with patches of missing fur. Two white plastic garbage bags lay like deflated balloons next to the clothes that had filled them until the officers had emptied them out, looking for weapons or drugs and finding nothing. A fat pink candle and a box of matches rested on a metal pie tin. Next to a box of saltines sat an open jar of peanut butter that still held a spoon.

This poor girl had been eating peanut butter and crackers, while across the street people snacked on stuffed mushroom caps, mini quiches, and pot stickers. Not to mention sesame seed honey cashews.

Charlie had finally allowed Mia upstairs after they had determined whoever was living in the house must have left in a hurry, probably after Mia had spotted the face in the window. The other officers had left once they realized the house was unoccupied.

“Judging by the clothes, whoever is squatting here is a girl,” Mia observed now. “Who did Violet say used to live here?”

“A mom with two kids,” Charlie answered. “I’m wondering if one of them never left.” He picked up the textbook and flipped through it.

In the bathroom Mia found a toothbrush and paste, a towel, a washcloth, and a scrap of soap. In the shower stall, plastic hangers held clothes that had been hung up to dry. She touched a sleeve. Still damp. The lights didn’t come on when she flipped the switch, but when she tried the faucet, a stream of cold water ran out.

The adrenaline that had surged through her when she realized the blinds had been raised seemed to have flushed the wine from her system. She felt completely alert. And embarrassed by how she had chattered away to Charlie.

“It must get awfully cold and dark,” she said, walking back into the bedroom, which smelled dusty and slightly sour. “I wonder how long she’s been living here.”

“Do you remember how long the house has been for sale?”

“Since sometime this summer. But I guess that doesn’t mean she’s lived here that whole time. I guess it doesn’t even have to be the same girl who used to live here. It could be just someone who was looking for a safe place to live.”

“No sign of forced entry, though,” Charlie pointed out. “Which means she probably has a key.”

Mia went to the window. It directly overlooked Colleen’s yard, and the plywood tacked over the shattered basement window. “From here she would have had a clear view of Colleen when she was shot.”

Charlie joined her. “But why would she be looking out the window at night? It’s an interesting theory, Mia, but I don’t think it’s likely that she saw anything.”

“Even if she didn’t see anything, the poor thing’s got to be pretty freaked out. First she’s been trying to hide from everyone and keep it a secret that she’s living in a supposedly empty house. And now she’s got to worry that there’s a murderer loose in the neighborhood.”

“Hello?” a woman’s voice called from downstairs. “Hello?”

Charlie went to the head of the stairs. “Yes?”

“It’s Linda Langston,” the woman called up. “The real estate agent.”

“Come on up.”

The real estate agent was tall and thin and dressed in a navy blue suit. She started shaking her head the minute she saw the girl’s belongings. With the toe of one high-heeled pump she nudged the teddy bear. Her lip curled back as if it were roadkill.

Mia’s stomach cramped as she wondered how much further she would have to fall before her own house would be foreclosed. She was still making the mortgage payments, but barely. The more she tried to untangle the mess Scott had left, the more she wondered how long she could keep juggling everything. In another few months, would Linda Langston be demanding her keys, impatiently tapping her high-heeled foot, while all of their worldly possessions sat inside a U-Haul truck in the driveway?

“I called a locksmith to come out and change the locks.” She made an exasperated noise. “That woman swore she had given me all the keys when the bank took possession. Obviously she was lying.” Picking up one of the garbage bags, she shoved the bear inside and then grabbed a handful of clothes.

“Hold on a minute,” Charlie said. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I certainly can’t show the house when it looks like a homeless encampment. It’s going to be hard enough attracting buyers when someone was murdered across the street.”

“I can only imagine,” he said drily.

“With Google, there’re no secrets anymore.” She pursed her lips in disapproval.

“What are you going to do with the girl’s things?” Mia asked.

“Do with them? I’m going to throw all of this out.” She leaned over to grab the textbook.

“I’ll take care of it.” Mia grabbed the textbook and the bag from the other woman’s hands. She tried to imagine Gabe alone, homeless, living in an empty house with nothing but peanut butter and crackers to fill his stomach. And yet this girl was still making it a priority to go to school.

The real estate agent shrugged, clearly unmoved. Maybe with today’s down market, you had to harden your heart. If the girl was over eighteen she could be charged with illegal entry, but Mia wasn’t going to mention that possibility if the other woman didn’t bring it up. And if she was under eighteen, once they found her she would go to a foster home until her mother could be located to pick her up.

Charlie helped Mia bring the girl’s belongings downstairs. While they were carrying them to her car, Violet came outside to meet them.

“So you didn’t find anybody?” Violet asked.

“No.” Mia shifted the bundles so she could press the button to unlock the car’s trunk. “But judging by the belongings she left behind, it looks like it was a high school girl. I think she saw me notice her and took off.”

“If she could see you looking up at her from our yard, do you think she saw what happened to my mom?”

Mia didn’t want to raise false hope. “It’s a long shot, but that’s why we want to talk to her.” Leaning in, she set the bag next to her spare tire.

Violet shivered and crossed her arms. “It would suck to be a girl on the streets alone.”

“Assuming this was the kid of your old neighbor, what’s her name?” Charlie asked.

“Veronica Slate. But she went by Ronni. I heard the family moved out to eastern Washington to live with her mom’s brother. It sounded like it was going to be pretty crowded. Maybe that’s why Ronni decided to stay here.”

“Do you know the uncle’s last name?” Charlie added the sleeping bag and the second bag full of clothes to the car trunk.

Violet shook her head. “Sorry. All I know is that Ronni was going to be a senior this year. She was always asking me questions about college.”

“We found a math textbook.” Mia closed the trunk. “So maybe she’s still taking classes.”

Charlie said, “On Monday I’ll go to the high school, see if they have anyone registered as living here. Maybe she’ll even be in school. And if she’s not, once we figure out for sure who she is, we’ll put out a BOLO on her.” BOLO stood for “be on the lookout.”

“Can’t you have someone watching the house to see if she comes back?” Violet asked.

Charlie shook his head. “We can’t put someone here 24-7. After all, if Ronni sees the cops, she’s not gonna come back. I’ll ask for some random patrols, but even still, the real estate agent is changing the locks, so she wouldn’t be able to get back in unless she broke in.”

“Which she might be tempted to do,” Mia said, thinking out loud. “After all, what’s in my trunk is probably everything she owns in the world. Call us if you see her, Violet. And I’m going to tuck one of my cards into the back door with a note on the back saying I have her stuff and that I can help her.”

“Can you?” Violet asked. “Help her?”

“Well,” Mia said, realizing how little she could actually do, “I could try.”

“Won’t she just end up in foster care or out in eastern Washington?”

“That’s still better than being homeless,” Charlie said.

Violet didn’t look convinced. “Ronni didn’t think so.”

“There aren’t a lot of alternatives.” As she pressed the lock button on her fob, Mia realized that the street was now empty of cars. While they had been busy searching the house, the wake must have broken up. “Hey, Violet, can I help you clean up?”

“It’s mostly just folding up the chairs and tables,” Violet said. “And loading the dishwasher.”

“Loading the dishwasher?” Charlie echoed. “Why didn’t you say so? That’s my favorite thing to do in the whole world!”

Suppressing a smile, Mia walked with Charlie and Violet across the street.



The next morning Mia woke up craving French toast. It had been Scott’s favorite breakfast. The last time she made it, though, had been months before he died. But today the guilt didn’t weigh on her as much. She remembered what her dad had said. She couldn’t change what she had done. She couldn’t change anything about the past. All she could do was do better in the future.

She went downstairs and mixed eggs, vanilla, and a dash of cinnamon in a shallow dish, and started melting butter in a pan.

“That smells good,” Gabe said as he came into the kitchen. He leaned in the doorway, looking like he wanted to say something more. Mia waited, but after a few seconds he dropped his gaze and began combing his hair with his fingers.

“I was thinking how much your dad liked to eat this, and I decided I should make it.” Mia picked up a spatula and flipped one of the pieces. Just the perfect amount of golden brown.

Gabe took the syrup from the fridge and began to set the table.

“Did you have a good time yesterday? Dad said you went out with your friends.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Gabe said, concentrating on lining up the silverware. “How was the wake thing?”

“It was a little bit strange. When I was there we figured out that someone has been living in the foreclosed house across the street. We think it’s a high school girl.”

His startled eyes flashed up to hers. “Living in an empty house?”

“She had a sleeping bag and some clothes and a little bit of food. It looks as though it might be the same girl who lived there before the bank took the house.”

“That’s sad, Mom.” Gabe’s face changed. “Are we going to be okay? You know, since Dad died?”

She should never have mentioned Ronni to him. “Of course we are. I mean, I’m working now, and I wasn’t before. We should be fine.”

“I miss him.”

“I know.” Mia sighed. “I do too. And I know it’s been hard on you. I’ve asked you to grow up so fast.”

He looked away. “I don’t think I’ve been doing a very good job of it.”

“Of course you have. What are you saying?”

“Sometimes . . .” Gabe hesitated. “Sometimes I screw up.”

He must be thinking of how much she had to nag him to get him to do his chores. “We all make mistakes. But you’ve really stepped up. You’re watching Brooke after school, you’re starting to pick up the house and help with dinner. You’re doing a lot. You’re growing up before my eyes.”

Mia felt a pang of pride. She had been so worried about how Scott’s death would change Gabe, but it had clearly been an overreaction. Sure, he had been faced with challenges, but he seemed to be taking them in stride. Looking at her son this morning, so polite and pleasant and humble, Mia was sure she was doing something right as a parent.