Chapter 7
It was after seven before I finally walked in the door. The heavenly scent of roasted meat went straight to my stomach. I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since half a cheese Danish from the pastry box Caro brought in this morning.
“My God,” I said. “Do I even have to use a plate or can I just stick a fork in the crock-pot?”
Kat stood at the sink, wiping it down with a red-and-white-checkered hand towel. “I mean I won’t stop you. But there’s gravy too.”
I leaned over the crock-pot. Kat had made a traditional pot roast with carrots, potatoes, and onions. I grabbed the fork next to the pot. The meat came apart.
“That’s delicious.”
“Glad you like it,” she said. “Will’s not so sure.”
“He’s iffy about having his food mixed together,” I said. “But this is objectively amazing. He’ll deal. Where is he?”
Kat pointed upward. Will’s bathroom was directly above the kitchen. “Wanted a shower right when he came back.”
My almost fifteen-year-old son had robotics four days a week. They were gearing up for a major competition the third week of school.
“You guys haven’t eaten yet?” I asked.
“No. He just got home fifteen minutes ago.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I got here about a half an hour ago. I stopped by on my lunch break and put the roast in. Let’s see if we can expand Will’s culinary horizons. And this thing was easy. If he likes it, I’ll show him how to put it together before he leaves for school.”
Since my son was a baby, Will’s Aunt Kat, my former sister-in-law, had been an integral part of his life.
She started watching him three days a week while my ex, Will’s father, and I started our careers here in Waynetown.
Will had a hard time getting close to people.
But Kat was like a second mother to him.
She was my best friend. My sister for life, even though Jason and I were over.
“Hurry up!” Kat went to the stairwell and shouted up. “You don’t need that much water for your skinny little body!”
I smiled. Kat had been yelling that exact thing to Will since he was about three years old. A moment later, I heard the faucet upstairs stop.
“How was he when he got home?” I asked.
“Good,” she said. “Sounds like he and the new coach worked out their issues. I didn’t hear the diatribe.”
“That man is just as stubborn as Will is,” I said.
“So you’ve met Mr. Ball?”
“I have.”
Kat smiled as she grabbed the plates from the cupboard. “Did he remind you of anyone?”
“He wasn’t very friendly. But he seemed more organized than the last coach. Had spreadsheets to hand out and everything.”
“Exactly,” Kat said, putting the plates on the table. “He reminds me of Will. I think they’re both sitting on the same end of the spectrum, Mara. This should be an interesting year.”
“You might be right now that I think of it. Well, hopefully they’ll gel instead of clash.”
“You and me both. Because Mr. Ball has also been named the new special ed algebra teacher. Will’s going to have him in class, too. He just got his schedule.”
Kat grabbed an envelope off the counter and handed it to me. It had already clearly been opened by Will. My son opened letters, cereal boxes, and chip bags like a raccoon. I read off his schedule. He’d gotten two of the teachers we’d requested but Mr. Ball was new.
Will himself tramped down the stairs, his hair still dripping wet. He reeked of body spray typical of teenage boys. I knew it was better than the alternative.
“How was Mr. Ball today?” I asked.
“Hi, Mom,” Will said. Every time I saw him, I swore my boy grew another inch. As it was, he was about half a head taller than me. His father was six foot two. Will would catch up with him by next year at this rate.
“He’s getting better,” Will said. “Some of the parents complained.”
“I’ll bet they did,” Kat muttered. I shot her a look, hoping Will hadn’t overheard. But he was entranced by the contents of the crock-pot.
“Give it a chance,” I said.
“Here,” Kat said. She spooned Will’s portion out, putting the meat, carrots, and potatoes in separate quadrants of his plate. She left the gravy on the table.
“Thanks,” I told her. I portioned out my own plate and made one for Kat as well. She had a fourth plate next to the crock-pot.
“We can wait for Bree,” I said. Kat’s wife worked at the University of Michigan Hospital in Ann Arbor. With nearly an hour commute, she rarely made it for our weekly dinners. I missed her.
“She’s working a double today,” Kat said. “But then she’s got a week off starting tomorrow.”
“Good. She deserves it.”
I sat next to Will. He pushed his food around on his plate but seemed interested in it. He stabbed his fork into a carrot and ate it. I held my breath for a moment. Before I could ask him what he thought, he went for the meat.
“Good stuff,” I said, relieved. Kat’s cooking saved the day again. For about a solid year, Will would only eat her homemade spaghetti or macaroni and cheese. But my son was changing. Maturing.
He still had plenty of challenges, but handled his father’s absence far better than I could have hoped.
Kat thought it had ultimately been a relief for him.
So much had been up in the air with Jason for so many years.
Now, Will and I had forged a life together.
The two of us. With Kat and Bree and now Sam as the significant adults in his life.
My phone buzzed on the counter where I left it. I reached for it. It was a text from Gus.
“Better turn on the local news.”
“Crap,” I said. “Will, I know we say no screens at the table, but do you mind if I turn on the TV for a second?”
“Is it for work?”
“It’s a case that’s about to land on my desk,” I said.
Will perked up. He’d always taken an interest in my caseload. It worried me sometimes, but I couldn’t shield him from it. I grabbed the remote and clicked on the small TV we kept mounted on the wall.
“When there’s something I can share, I’ll share it!” Hojo stood in front of a bank of microphones in front of the courthouse. Sam stood beside him.
“Sheriff Cruz,” a reporter shouted. “When will Jamie Simmons be arrested? We understand Ellie Luke’s family is hiring their own attorney. That they are concerned another member of the family has been coerced into providing false evidence against Mr. Simmons.”
“What?” I shouted at the television. I picked up my phone and texted Gus back.
“Where is this coming from?”
“Who knows,” he said.
I watched Hojo’s face cycle through various shades of red, then pale white. He was sweating.
“He doesn’t look good up there,” Kat said.
“I don’t think I can watch,” I said, clicking off.
“Ellie Luke,” Kat said. “Is that who they said? Are they making an arrest in that case?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Who’s Ellie Luke?” Will asked.
“She was a college student,” I answered. “She was killed more than twenty years ago. There may be a break in the case. And I say may. None of this is ripe for the media yet.”
“Is he in over his head?” Kat asked. “Jordan.”
“Not yet,” I said. “But this thing is starting to get away from us. That’s not to leave this table.”
“Of course not,” Kat said.
“Ellie Luke,” Will said. I knew what he was doing. He would commit her name to memory and start searching the internet.
“Leave it,” I warned my son.
“Twenty years is a long time. You probably don’t have cell phone forensics to go on. What about DNA? How was she found?”
“Stop,” I said. “Don’t make me regret telling you as much as I have.”
Will shrugged. “It’s already in the press. People at school are gonna start asking me about it.”
“And you say nothing,” I warned him.
“I never do,” he assured me. “But that doesn’t stop them from asking.”
Will had finished his roast. Every single bite. It was as winning an endorsement as we could have hoped for.
“May I be excused?” he asked. “I want to work on my blueprints.”
“That depends,” I said. “I’m gonna check your laptop, buddy. No doom scrolling on Ellie Luke.”
“I won’t,” he said. Kat shot me a look. Neither of us were convinced. But Will dutifully washed his plate and put it in the dishwasher. He went back upstairs. Kat turned to me.
“You know,” she said. “Bree was friends with Ellie Luke.”
“She was?”
“They were in nursing school together. They hung out.”
“I had no idea,” I said, then realized I would have had no reason to. I hadn’t dug into Gus’s old files. There would be time for that if and when an arrest was made.
“They still do a 5k in her honor at the nursing college,” Kat said. “We raced in it two years ago. I think it might have been the twentieth anniversary of her murder, maybe?”
“That would track,” I said. “How close were they?”
“They were friends,” Kat said. “We only really talked about it the one time. But I know Bree was questioned by the police when that poor girl disappeared.”
“Lord,” I said. “I had no idea. This may be a dumb question, but did you get the impression it was upsetting to her? I mean, of course it was upsetting. I just mean … Kat … this thing is about to blow up. I can’t tell you the details, you know that.
But there’s a slant to it that will probably catch fire in terms of press attention.
As in … national news outlets might run with it. ”
“Oh wow,” Kat said. “Um. Yes. Ellie isn’t someone Bree talks about. But it affected her. Shook her up at the time, I think.”
“Okay,” I said. “Well … yes. She may have to be reinterviewed, depending on how well she knew Ellie at the time. And if she were interviewed when it happened. I think maybe you should call her. Or I can. I think she should be prepared.”
“Okay,” Kat said. “I’ll talk to her tonight. I’ll have her call you tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I said. I got another angry text from Gus. It was a stream of obscenities directed at the reporter who showed up at the Simmons’s house when he served the warrants.
“We need to meet first thing in the morning,” I texted back. “This might get messy.”
“It already has,” he texted.