Lucy’s face paled. “Bill’s at work, Sara’s at the football game, and Zoe slept over at a friend’s house last night.”
“Your son?” asked Horowitz.
“He doesn’t live with us anymore—he’s on his own now—and Elizabeth’s back at college in Boston.”
“We’ll need their addresses,” he said, going back inside. A few minutes later, an officer sat down on the bench beside her and took her statement, including the addresses, then told her she was free to go. She was sitting in her car, starting the engine, when she saw the men from the medical examiner’s office wheeling out Mimi’s body, encased in black vinyl, on a wheeled stretcher. She sat, silent, watching as they lifted the stretcher over the porch steps and rolled it down the driveway. There was a pause and a jolt as they collapsed first the front legs and then the rear and slid it into the van. Then they got in and drove off. Lucy waited until they were gone before starting the engine.
It was later than she thought, she realized, too late to go back to the bake sale. She had ignored Chris’s calls to her cell phone and they’d finally stopped. There was no way she could tell her what had happened to Mimi—word would have spread like wildfire and impeded the police investigation—and she hadn’t had the energy to think up a plausible lie. Now it was almost one and time for her to head over to the high school to pick up Sara and Sassie.
From the honking procession of cars, with screaming teens leaning out the windows waving streamers in the school colors, and the boisterous attitude of the players and cheerleaders who tumbled out of the two yellow school buses when they arrived in the parking lot, it was obvious the Tinker’s Cove Warriors had carried the day.
She found herself smiling as Sara and Sassie skipped across the asphalt, shaking their pom-poms.
“I guess the Warriors won,” she said, as they slid into the backseat.
“Even the JV team,” announced Sara.
“Wow.” Lucy was amazed. Wins were few and far between for the Warriors and she couldn’t remember when the JV team had won a game. Their losing record had assumed legendary proportions.
“You had a good time?” asked Lucy, starting the car.
“It was awesome, Mom. Awesome.”
Sara’s enthusiasm was almost enough to make Lucy forget the terrible scene she’d witnessed at the Stanton house—until she spied Tommy Stanton, standing quite alone on the sidewalk, obviously looking for his ride. A ride she doubted would be coming.
“Who picks up Tommy?” she asked the girls.
“His mom. Sometimes his dad.”
Lucy knew that Mimi wouldn’t be coming, for sure, and she suspected that Fred was otherwise occupied. She’d have to give the kid a lift, it was only decent. She drove over and stopped in front of him, leaning out the window. “We’re headed your way—want a ride?”
Tommy looked around at the rapidly emptying parking lot. “Sure.” He ducked into the front seat. “Thanks.”
“I hear your team had a big win,” said Lucy. In the backseat the girls giggled.
“Yeah.” Tommy nodded proudly. “I made a forty-yard run.”
“All that running’s paying off,” said Lucy, her heart aching for him.
“Yeah.” He couldn’t stop smiling. “Did you see Mikey Meehan’s touchdown?” he asked, turning around to face the girls.
“Sorry. We didn’t watch the JV game,” said Sassie. “You guys never win.”
“We did today,” he said, practically singing.
“Maybe we’ll watch next time,” said Sara, erupting into giggles.
Lucy was tempted to delay the return to Prudence Path. “You guys want to stop for some ice cream or something?” she asked.
“Thanks, but I’ve got to get changed and get to my job,” said Tommy. “I’m a bagger at Marzetti’s.”
“Good for you,” said Lucy, finding it hard to swallow because of the lump in her throat. In truth, a giant lump seemed to be forming around her heart and it was pressing against her stomach, growing heavier with every mile that brought them closer to Red Top Hill. As they began the climb she came to a decision—she couldn’t take Tommy home without telling him what had happened.
“Girls, I’m going to drop you at our house. You can walk home from there, Sassie.”
Something in her tone brooked no protest and the girls got out meekly when she stopped at the end of the driveway. She turned to Tommy.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” she said. “I have some bad news. Very bad news.”
Tommy looked puzzled. What did this woman, practically a stranger, know about him?
“I went to your house today, to get your mother for the bake sale.”
He nodded. He knew all about the bake sale.
“When I got there she was…” Lucy’s voice failed her. “Not well,” she finally said.
“She said she thought she was coming down with a cold,” he said, looking concerned.
“It was worse than that.” Lucy put her hand on his. “She was dead.”
“Dead?” Tommy repeated the word, as if he didn’t know its meaning.
“I’m afraid so.” Lucy waited for his reaction, not knowing what to expect. Tears? Hysterics? Angry accusations? But nothing came. Tommy sat, hunched over, staring at his knee. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” she said, wondering if she’d made a big mistake. Maybe it would have been better for him to hear it from his father. But she didn’t know if his father was home, if anybody was home. She didn’t know what he was going to walk into and she wanted him to be prepared. Maybe the cops were still there, or a gaggle of relatives. “I just thought it would be better if you knew.”
“It’s okay,” he said, pulling his hand out from under hers. “I better get home.”
“I’ll drive you,” said Lucy. “It’s just around the corner.”
He didn’t protest so she made the short trip to Prudence Path, stopping in front of his house at the end of the cul-de-sac. “Uh, thanks for the ride,” he said, climbing out of the car.
Lucy waved, unable to speak. She was blinking back tears, determined not to break down in front of him. Eyes glistening, she gave him a sad little smile and watched as he began the climb up his driveway. As he approached the porch she couldn’t hold the sobs in any longer and she let herself cry, holding on to the steering wheel with two hands and letting her head fall. She sat there, shaking with sobs, until she was all cried out. Then she lifted her head, wiped her face with the back of her hands, and slid the gear shift into drive. She looked around, checking that the way was clear, and noticed Fred Stanton standing at the kitchen door. She hesitated, wondering if she should go to him, but something in his expression warned her off. He was looking at her, she thought, as if he wanted to kill her.