BITTY FINALLY MADE her decision . . . by far the most difficult decision of her life. For years, she had allowed certain instincts to outpower others and she couldn’t . . . wouldn’t . . . do it anymore.
She wept into a towel in her room, so hard she was unable to catch her breath. She knew she should be with Allie, helping her through the loss of her friend and telling her that everything would be okay.
But it would just be a lie.
Besides, she was having trouble just keeping herself together. She had used the hallway wall to support her weak knees just so she could walk from the living room to her bedroom without collapsing, so she knew she’d be no help to the girl.
She’d only scare her more.
She had asked Joe to be with Allie, to talk with her and watch her closely for the rest of the evening, and he said he’d be happy to help.
She lowered herself to her old knees and prayed. It was one of two things, for years, she’d been too much of a coward to do—and she’d do the other soon.
A soothing warmth always flooded her chest when she prayed to her maker, instantly calming her. That and an unshakable certainty that He would help her get through whatever struggles she was facing.
It wasn’t the case this time. This time there was no warmth. No certainty.
When she was done praying, she vomited. Then, on shaky legs, she went to the mirror. The old woman staring back looked beaten—and, the truth was, she had been. She’d weathered more storms than anyone should ever have to face, but most of it had been by choice . . . the consequences of making the wrong decisions.
But she’d do the right thing now.
And it would all start with drafting a very detailed grocery list.
CHAPTER 53
ALLIE PINCHED HER arm hard to make sure she wasn’t having a nightmare.
Wincing, she realized she wasn’t. Lying in bed, she stared up at her bedroom ceiling, a million questions running wild in her mind.
She had talked to Hannah only hours before and now she was dead? It reminded her of how quickly her brother had died. One second he’d been there. The next he was gone for good.
The reporter said Hannah had been murdered. Stabbed forty-two times.
Allie shuddered at the thought.
How scared had she been? How much had it hurt? How long had she been conscious? What were her last thoughts?
And . . . why? Who would want to kill Hannah?
Was it the same person who’d killed that single mother? Or had she just been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or was it more personal than that?
Did it have something to do with me?
Hannah’s words in the woods that night echoed in her ears:
Wow. What if I get murdered by, like, some ax murderer just because I know you? Because you and I hang out?
Gooseflesh rose on Allie’s arms, and she hugged herself.
Will murder always follow me?
Am I just fooling myself thinking I’ll ever be normal?
Tears flooding her eyes, she pulled the comforter up to her neck and tried to breathe.
Her bedroom door eased open. It was Miss Bitty. “Are you okay?”
Swiping at her nose, Allie studied her. She looked tired, ragged, and way too thin. “Yeah, I mean, I guess so.”
The old woman shuffled to the bedroom window and checked the locks.
“Are you okay?” Allie asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
I don’t believe you.
“Try to get some sleep,” Miss Bitty said, crossing to the other side of the room again. The door began to close.
“Miss Bitty?”
“Yes?”
“You sure you’re—”
“Get some sleep, Allie,” she answered, her voice stern.
The woman closed the door and Allie listened as her soft footsteps disappeared down the hall.
Allie reached out for Piglet, only to realize the puppy wasn’t there. She began to sob. She’d spent hours in the woods the following morning looking for Piglet to no avail. She had been a coward not to have gone after her immediately. Her pulse quickened as she realized she hadn’t stopped her brother from leaving either.
Death . . . death . . . everywhere.
She sank deeper beneath the sheets. The stability she’d known for the first time in her life was crumbling fast . . . crashing down all around her.
CHAPTER 54
THE NEXT MORNING Ted appeared at the mudroom door. His hair was disheveled, his eyes swollen. Allie watched Miss Bitty walk toward him, her arms wide open.
“Mr. Hanover,” the old woman whispered, folding him into a hug. “I am so sorry.”
Ted hugged Miss Bitty back. “Thanks.”
“How’s Claire holding up?”
He released her and cleared his throat. “Not well,” he said. “Actually, I have a favor to ask.”
“Of course.” Miss Bitty gestured toward the table. “Come have a cup of coffee.”
Ted walked to the table and nodded in Allie and Big Joe’s direction.
“I’m sorry, Ted,” Big Joe said. “How awful.”
“Thank you.”
“Me too,” Allie said, her voice thick. She still felt very confused and a little numb. The fact that Hannah was dead still didn’t seem real—even with her grieving stepfather sitting just a few feet away.
Bitty returned with a cup of steaming coffee. Allie noticed the woman’s hand tremble as she set it down. Miss Bitty’s behavior that morning had been more odd than usual. Not only were her eyes bloodshot and bag-ridden, she’d been forgetful all morning. She’d even dropped a plate a few minutes before Ted had arrived.
Ted cleared his throat. “This might sound like a strange request, but with the expenses for the funeral, things are tight for us right now and I know you have the guesthouse, so I was wondering—”
Miss Bitty gestured for Ted to stop talking. “No need to say more. You and Claire can stay in the back bedroom of the guesthouse for as long as you want.” She looked up at Big Joe. “Right, Joe? You don’t mind if the Hanovers share the guesthouse with you, do you?”
“Of course not. I’d do anything to help.”
“Well, that’s the thing. Claire won’t be staying. It’ll just be me,” Ted said.
Bitty raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Claire . . . well, she . . .” He wrung his hands together. “She doesn’t want to see me right now.”