“I know. I think we’re the ones who got lucky when she moved in.” Morgan dropped her dirt-streaked suit in the dry-cleaning basket. When she entered the bathroom, Ava and Mia both stood on the mat wrapped in towels. Gianna was helping Sophie climb out of the tub. Morgan hugged the bigger girls and braced herself for Sophie’s greeting.
As expected, the child leaped into her arms, naked and wet. She pressed her face into Morgan’s shoulder, soaking the T-shirt. “Mommy! I missed you.”
Morgan wrapped her in a towel and set her down. “I missed you too. Tell me about your day.”
“Grandpa bought me a glitter pen,” Sophie began.
Mia vied for attention. “I dressed Snoozer up as a princess.”
Ava hung back, unusually quiet as the younger girls chattered. Morgan pressed her palm to Ava’s forehead. Her nose was red, and her skin felt overly warm. She’d definitely caught Sophie’s cold.
Gianna sat on the edge of the tub and tossed plastic toys into a mesh basket suction-cupped to the tile backsplash.
“Thanks for helping, Gianna. I can do cleanup, Morgan said.
“I’ve got it,” Gianna said. “Why don’t you do story time? They missed you today.”
A fresh pang of guilt hit Morgan between the ribs as she picked up Sophie’s pajamas from the vanity. “Let’s get our pjs on. Want to watch a movie in my bed?”
That night, they broke all the rules, eating cookies in bed and staying up way past bedtime, but it was exactly what Morgan and her three girls needed. After ninety minutes of cuddling with cookies and Disney’s Frozen, Ava was the only child still awake. Morgan transferred Sophie and Mia to their own beds. Sensing something was up with her oldest, she didn’t rush her.
Morgan sat on the edge of her bed and brushed her daughter’s hair away from her sad face. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Ava twisted the hem of her Little Mermaid nightgown. “What is a rapist?”
Oh no.
She, Grandpa, and Gianna were careful to keep the news off when the girls were around, but it was impossible to isolate her children from the world.
“Where did you hear that word?” Morgan asked.
“Mandy Pinkerton said her mommy said that Nick is a rapist and that he killed Tessa and you’re trying to get him out of jail.” Ava’s words came out rapid-fire fast in one breath.
“A rapist is someone who hurts other people,” Morgan simplified. “But I don’t believe Nick would hurt anyone.”
“Then why is he in jail?” Ava’s big brown eyes swam with questions and fear.
“I think the police made a mistake.”
“What if they didn’t?” Ava echoed Morgan’s own fear.
Was it possible that Nick was guilty? That he’d killed Tessa in a fit of rage?
Ava crumpled another handful of her nightie. “What if Nick is a bad person, and they let him go? He lives right across the street. He comes in our house all the time. He could hurt us.”
Morgan debated assuring Ava that Nick was innocent. At this point, she had more questions than answers about the case. In the end, she opted for the truth.
“I’m going to find out what happened, OK? I would never want a dangerous person to be let out of jail.” She kissed her daughter’s head. “And I promise to keep you safe.”
Nodding, Ava sniffed. “I miss Tessa. Did she really die?”
“Yes.” Morgan’s heart ached.
“So we’ll never see her again,” Ava said.
“That’s right. I’m sorry.” Morgan put her arms around the child. Neither Mia nor Sophie had mentioned Tessa, although Morgan had told them she’d died. But Ava was clearly struggling. Her memories of John were clearer, and so was her grasp of the concept of death.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?”
“Yes.” Morgan brushed her teeth and climbed into bed.
Ava took the photo of John from the nightstand and stared at it. “I miss Daddy. If he was here, he’d protect us, and I wouldn’t be so scared.”
“I miss him too, but you’re safe here with Grandpa and me.” Morgan leaned back on the pillow.
“Sometimes I forget what he looked like.” Ava carefully returned the framed picture to the nightstand.
“We have lots of pictures.” Morgan pulled her daughter close. She took a deep whiff of detangling spray and bubblegum-scented soap as Ava snuggled close. Who was comforting whom?
Ava drifted off quickly, but sleep eluded Morgan. It hadn’t occurred to her that six-year-olds would be discussing a case of rape and murder. But she should have expected it. Kids had the most acute hearing when adults were discussing forbidden topics.
But it saddened her to think of young children learning about brutal crimes. Her girls should go to bed feeling safe and secure. They shouldn’t have to worry about criminals living across the street.
Morgan stared at the ceiling, Ava’s words echoing in her mind.
Was it possible that Nick was guilty? How would that affect the girls? Eventually they’d find out that a man their mother had welcomed into their house was a killer.
And even scarier, if Nick was innocent. Then someone else had killed Tessa. Which meant that someone in Scarlet Falls was a murderer. And that killer still roamed free.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“How was your Sunday?” Lance asked Morgan as he walked into the war room. By mutual agreement, Lance, Sharp, and Morgan had all used the previous day to catch up on personal commitments, read files, and let Lance’s mother get a jump on the research.
Lance had taken his mom to therapy. He’d mowed her lawn, done her shopping, gone through her bills, and filled her medication organizer for the week.
“Quiet. I took the girls to the park and finished reading through the police interviews.” Standing behind the table, she set down her bag and a stainless-steel travel mug and draped her jacket across the back of her chair. Easing into the chair, she crossed her legs, the cuff of her navy slacks rising enough to show her shiny black heels. Dark smudges under her eyes told him she’d spent the daylight hours with her children and worked well into the night. “What did you do yesterday?”
“The same.” After he’d finished with his mom, Lance had read through files until his eyeballs burned.
Morgan seemed distracted.
“Are you all right?” Lance asked.
“Ava had some issues at school with another little girl telling her that her mommy wanted to free a rapist.” Morgan propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm.
Lance pushed off the doorway. “Seriously? Some parent was talking about rapists with their six-year-old?”
“The child could have simply overheard her parents talking.”
“People should be careful what they say around children.”
She sighed. “Six seems too young to me to talk about rape and murder. When I took this case, I knew there would be gossip, but I thought some of the community would be on Nick’s side. That doesn’t seem to be the case.”
“The media hasn’t helped. The coverage has been distinctly one-sided.”