Chapter 36
DETECTIVE BELLMAN STANDS IN NOAH’S FRONT YARD TALKING TO several uniformed cops. It looks like they’ve wrapped up their search of the house and grounds.
I join Ruth on her front porch, where she’s been watching the cops over in Noah’s yard. We stand together, leaning slightly over the railing.
“Ruth, do you remember the date that my mother and I were here? Alex said Mary died shortly after.”
She turns her head in my direction. “Mary died on the tenth of July.”
I know this. “How long after I was here?”
Ruth sighs. “Goodness, Emma, that was a long time ago. Maybe two or three days later, I guess. The time all seems to run together.”
“And what about Carol? When was she here?”
Ruth’s dark eyes meet mine. “What are you getting at, dear? Do you remember Carol?”
“No, not at all. I’m just curious.”
Ruth lowers herself into the rocking chair nearest the door.
She seems frail today, like a little bird, like a gust of wind could carry her away.
“Why? Why bring up problems from the past? You’ve found your father.
He’s trying his level best to make it all up to you.
You have a beautiful home here if you want it.
And you might even be able to get your book published. Wouldn’t that be something?”
I rest a hip on the porch railing. “Of course. I’m so grateful for all Alex has done for me.”
She raises her thin eyebrows. “I hear that you had trouble back in Albany. Trouble that Alex has taken care of for you.”
I feel heat rush to my face. I’m still mortified by Ben’s problems as if they were mine, too. If I’d only been a better judge of character, I never would’ve married him in the first place. “Yes. Like I said, I’m grateful.”
Ruth reaches over and clasps my arm, her eyes lock on mine.
“Cheshire Lake is a beautiful place, Emma. I’ve lived a wonderful, contented life here.
That’s why I haven’t sold any of my land or the house.
I intend to stay here the rest of my days.
” She sits back, sniffs. “I wanted that for Simon, too. He dearly loved this place. You could have a lovely life here, too.”
I glance over toward Noah’s house. He’s in the front yard now talking with Detective Bellman. By their body language, it doesn’t look like anything exciting was discovered in the search. The detective holds a clipboard, and he makes periodic marks as he talks with Noah.
I’d spoken to Detective Bellman when he arrived this morning and told him about the disturbed dirt behind the Thompson shed. He made a note of it, thanked me, and walked away. I’m not sure how impressed he was by what I told him, but at least it’s off my chest.
“Are you going to let the police search your place?” I ask Ruth.
“I suppose I’ll need to. Tom won’t rest until he’s searched the whole community. I can’t blame him, I guess. I think it’s strange, don’t you, that Dale is being so uncooperative? Even Alex has decided the best thing to do is let the cops look everywhere.”
“Is Spencer House going to be searched?”
“Alex told me he told Tom it was okay. He just wants to know when so he can be back here. He wants to keep an eye on the cops, so they don’t mess up his things.”
“You think he’ll be back soon then?”
“Yes. In the next day or two.”
As dusk rolls into Cheshire Lake, I’m up in my room, wondering if I should tidy up before the cops come by to search.
Surely, they won’t make too much of a mess, I hope.
I remember the key ring I’d taken from the pantry.
I better put it back before Alex returns and notices that it’s gone.
But first, I want to see if there’s a key on it that unlocks Sunny’s room.
I stand before her bedroom door, listen. I know I’m alone in the house, but I can’t help but worry someone will come in and catch me. I try one key, then the next. Nothing fits. But with only two keys remaining to try, one goes into the lock smoothly and with a click the door opens.
The smell of her perfume hangs in the air, something light and floral, almost maidenly, so unlike her persona.
The room is very different from the rest of the house.
While the other rooms are dark and steeped in the décor of the past, this room is bright and sleek, the walls painted a milky white, and the bedding and drapes are in shades of pink and gray.
Satin throw pillows are piled neatly on the plump, queen-sized bed.
I head over to the closet. There’s not much inside.
A few pairs of expensive shoes. A winter coat.
She probably keeps most of her things in her apartment in Boston.
There’s a small desk between two windows.
There isn’t much on the desktop, so I open the drawers.
I glance over my shoulder, still paranoid that someone will catch me.
But I carry on. There are a couple of notebooks and a few pens in the top drawer.
I open the one below it. There are folded-up papers there.
I pull out a clump and start to weed through them.
I catch my breath. They’re all articles from magazines and newspapers.
And they all have one thing in common: they were all written by or about Noah.
The last article was torn from a newspaper.
It’s yellow with age. It’s a bridal notice.
Someone, that is, Sunny, must’ve taken a black pen and scored out the bride’s face, Noah’s ex-wife.
So, apparently Sunny had a thing for Noah.
Maybe she still does. That’s why she wants me to stay away from him.
But was there anything between them? I wonder.
I put the articles back and close the drawer. I lock the room again, shove the key ring in my pocket, and head downstairs to hang it back in the pantry.
Back in my room, my phone buzzes, a text from Noah. He tells me that nothing of interest was found at his place, as he suspected. I wonder about him and Sunny. Something to ask him about when I see him.
I toss my phone on the bed and sit at the desk, open my laptop. I work on my novel for a few minutes before my phone buzzes again.
What now, Noah? I say as I get up to retrieve my phone.
But the text isn’t from him. Instead, in all caps, there’s a text from an unknown number.
LEAVE SPENCER HOUSE! NOW!
I grit my teeth. “Nice try, Sunny!” I say aloud, looking out the window into the dark backyard. But it sends shivers down my spine. It’s almost like she knew I’d been in her room.