These were John’s two sons by his first marriage. Melinda, Avery’s wife, was a friend of mine, though she was so busy with her kids and her community work that we didn’t see each other as often as I’d like. John David was a widower.
“I’m glad they’re there. Call me when you know something. I’ll come as soon as I can, Mother. I’m praying for you and John.” I hung up, almost in tears. Mother had married again late in life, and she and John were very happy together. Avery and John David liked Mother a lot, John’s grandkids called her GranGran, and Melinda was a sweetie.
I loved John for himself, and because he made my mother happy. Not only did I want John to stay around, I also didn’t want my mother to be grieving as I had when I’d lost my first husband, Martin, to a heart attack.
“Roe, what’s wrong?” I hadn’t heard Robin approach. He’d cleaned not just his teeth, but his whole self. He smelled of aftershave and soap.
I told him the bad news, having a hard time keeping my voice level.
Robin said, “How long until Sophie needs to be fed?”
I looked at the clock and estimated. “She should sleep another half hour, and then she’ll need to nurse.”
“Why don’t I go to the hospital to wait with your mom? When the baby’s fed, tell me, and we’ll switch places.”
This was another instance when Sophie’s dependence on my boobs caused a lot of complications. People had told me I’d look back on the trials of early motherhood and laugh, but for now … I heaved a deep sigh. “Thank you,” I said. “That’s the best we can do.”
“Where’s Phillip?”
“He’s in his room, probably on his laptop. He forgot to tell me he’d seen an ambulance on my mother’s street.”
“No!” Robin winced.
“Yes. But at least he told me. It’s good I called her. I don’t think she would have called me until she knew something.” I felt my shoulders sag.
“I’ll tell Phillip what’s happening.” Robin loped off, and I returned to my gloomy thoughts. He was back in a flash. “Okay, I’m off. While I’m gone, can you look for my keys? I was sure I put them in the bowl before I left. Maybe I missed them.”
“Okay. Your extra car key is in the bottom left drawer under the microwave.”
Robin grabbed the key and hurried out the door, barely taking time to pick up a jacket and a book.
I fidgeted and prayed and fidgeted after Robin left for the hospital. For once, I could hardly wait for Sophie to wake up. Phillip, passing through to assemble a cheese and cracker and soup lunch, asked me if I had any news. Phillip liked my mother well enough. But when John, who’d raised two sons, made an effort to know Phillip and include him in the family, Phillip had responded with affection.
My brother apologized all over again for dropping the ball, but then he lingered in the living room in a way that triggered an ominous feeling: obviously, Phillip had something else unpleasant to tell me.
“Spit it out,” I said wearily.
“Some kids are saying online that the dead woman was Robin’s old girlfriend,” he blurted.
“The Internet has a lot to answer for,” I said. This was the last thing in the world I wanted to hear, though I wasn’t surprised. I tried to contain my anger, since Phillip was not the one who had been a rumormongering asshat.
“He didn’t know her, right?” Phillip sounded hopeful.
“Ahhhh … the answer to that is a little complicated.”
Phillip’s face fell. “I was afraid of that.”
“He didn’t know her as a friend or ‘girlfriend,’ but as his stalker,” I said. “And she tried to kill me last year.”
His eyes widened. “The woman who stabbed your maid? That was her?”
“One and the same.”
“And she’s the woman who came in the house? Looked at Sophie?”
I nodded.
“That is extremely scary,” Phillip said, and I could only nod again. “No wonder she got killed.”
“But we didn’t kill her.”
Phillip nodded. “What was her name?”
“Tracy Beal. But the police may not have gotten hold of her family yet. So don’t put her name on Facebook or any other social media.”
“I understand,” said Phillip. “And, you know, I’m sorry. About not telling you about the ambulance first. Josh told me that some guy fired a rifle into the house where the party was, Saturday night. He and Joss were there. It was pretty scary. That sidetracked me.”
“Why didn’t you and Sarah go?” I asked, because it was the first question that popped into my head.
“Her mom doesn’t like Justine’s parents. Dr. Halverson and his wife? They were giving the party. So, you know, that knocked the ambulance out of my head.”
He’d apologized several times now, and I had to accept it. “I know you’re sorry. I got in touch with my mother. A couple of minutes didn’t make a difference. And having someone fire a gun into a house is pretty scary. I’m glad you and Sarah weren’t there. Detective Trumble told me that had happened.”
Phillip, looking relieved, returned to his computer. I began the search for Robin’s keys, just to have something to do. He was a regular misplacer of keys. I’d put a special bowl on the island, designated the key bowl. We’d had to search much less often since we’d formed a habit of tossing our keys in that bowl every time we came in. Unfortunately, we’d also started dropping in other odds and ends, too.
I overturned the bowl and sorted through the contents, with no key results, though I did find my Starbucks gift card. Then I started checking other possible places. But my mind wasn’t on the search, and I came up with zero.
I zoomed into Sophie’s room at her first little sound and fed her in record time. As soon as I’d burped her, I called Robin. I loved to look at our child more than anything in the world, but today I could hardly wait to hand her off when Robin came in the door.
“How’s John?” I said.
“Hanging in there. Still alive.”
I was out the door in thirty seconds. I nodded to Lena, who was walking Chaka, and Jonathan, who was trimming the bushes by his front door … with a tape measure attached to his belt. I took off like a rocket.
For a couple of decades, Sparling County Hospital was little more than a way station where patients were stabilized and sent to bigger hospitals in Atlanta. In the last five years, it had been growing and competing. Some doctors simply didn’t want the pressure of maintaining practices and bringing up their families in the inner Atlanta metroplex, which was about to swallow Lawrenceton … every year it got closer. Since we had the doctors, a few energetic citizens had started a vigorous campaign to raise money for some of the diagnostic machines necessary to advance our facility to a higher level. My mother was one of them. I was proud she’d worked so hard to make this happen, and I hoped the effort was now going to pay off for her husband.