Paper Cuts, page 8
“No. I’ve always been a one-glass-of-wine-with-dinner type of drinker. I might have two drinks at a party, but only if someone else is driving.”
“Did you consume alcohol before your altercation with Ms. Walsh?”
“No.”
“What about when you got home?”
“I had a glass of red wine.”
“That was all the alcohol you drank yesterday? One glass of wine?”
Her skeptical tone set Nora’s teeth on edge.
Don’t let her get under your skin. That’s what she wants.
Nora said, “That’s correct.”
“Do you blame Ms. Walsh for your . . . disfigurement?” Hollowell flicked her eyes at Nora’s pinkie finger.
Nora’s dislike for this woman intensified. “I blame myself for my injuries. No one else is responsible for them. As I told Deputy Fuentes, I bore no ill-will toward Kelly. I liked her from the moment we met—”
“You mean, when you saw her with your husband?” Hollowell’s pencil-line brows flew up her forehead. “You liked your husband’s pregnant lover?”
“I didn’t meet her that night. I caught a glimpse of her, that’s it. I never knew Kelly’s name until she introduced herself to me at the bookstore. That’s the moment I’m talking about. I liked both Kelly and her son when I met them at the bookstore.”
Hollowell’s tone became acerbic. “You liked her so much that you struck her—a terminally ill woman. Is that correct?”
“I didn’t—”
“You struck her in front of her son—a young boy you also supposedly liked. What were you thinking when Kelly grabbed your shirt? Here was the woman your husband chose over you, grabbing your shirt. Was this an opportunity for you? Did you dream of what you’d do to her if you ever saw her again? How you’d hurt her?”
The questions were fired with such Gatling gun speed that Nora couldn’t possibly reply. At first, she was rattled, but then she realized that Hollowell wasn’t interested in answers. She was trying to provoke—to incite an emotional reaction.
Nora pictured the wall of coffee mugs in the ticket agent’s booth. One of those mugs featured an Oscar Wilde quote. It read, “Nothing is so aggravating as calmness.”
Hollowell’s lips were parted like she was getting ready to fire a new volley of taunts, but thanks to Wilde, Nora would not be goaded.
“I regret shoving Kelly,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I was only trying to get away. I’ve told you what happened twice now. I’ve answered your questions, but you haven’t answered any of mine.”
“We don’t—” Deputy Hollowell began.
“No. I’m done.” Nora folded her arms over her chest. “Either charge me with a crime or release me.”
“If you think you’ll get special treatment because of your relationship with the sheriff, you’re wrong,” snapped Hollowell.
Nora splayed her hands. “You’re the one who brought up our relationship, not me.”
Fuentes leaned over the recorder and announced that the interview was over.
“That’s all for now,” he told Nora.
Without waiting for permission, she pushed her chair back and walked out of the room. She heard the deputies following as she headed down the hall toward the lobby. When she reached the door to McCabe’s office, she paused.
“He’s in a meeting,” said Deputy Hollowell.
Ignoring her, Nora knocked on the door.
“Come in!” McCabe called.
Opening the door, Nora saw that Hollowell was right. The ME, a middle-aged woman named Dr. Schuping, sat in one of the chairs facing McCabe’s desk. When she saw Nora, she smiled.
“I was just thinking about you. Someone from work recommended a medical thriller and I wanted to call and see if you had it in stock, but I keep forgetting the title. I’ve asked my coworker twice, and I don’t want to ask again, or they’ll think I’m losing it.” She chuckled. “I lost it a long time ago, but let’s not go there. There’s a girl in a nightgown on the book cover. It’s blue, and I think the paperback came out pretty recently.”
Nora clung to the topic of books like a lifeline. What a relief it was to picture the display table of mystery and suspense novels in her store instead of wondering if she’d inadvertently caused Kelly’s death. She focused every ounce of her concentration on that book display. Most had black or red covers with white font, or white covers with blood-red font. A blue cover with a woman wearing a nightgown stood out among the rest.
“Is it Insomnia by Sarah Pinborough?”
Dr. Schuping slapped her thigh and cried, “You’re amazing! Nothing wrong with your recall, that’s for sure. Would you hold a copy for me?”
“Of course. Sorry to interrupt.” Nora looked at McCabe. “Talk later?”
He started to stand and then checked himself. “Yes.”
It was only one word, and a short one at that, but McCabe had infused it with warmth. Nora saw the concern in his eyes and knew he’d call or come to her as soon as he could. Until then, she’d have to wait to hear what had happened to Kelly Walsh.
Nora backed out of McCabe’s office and closed the door. When she turned toward the lobby, Deputy Hollowell blocked her path.
“Don’t leave town,” she warned.
It was such a cliché that Nora almost laughed. But she was too drained to laugh, so she replied, “I won’t. Everything I care about is here.”
She didn’t know why this woman disliked her so much, but she also knew that Hollowell would make a dangerous enemy. It was best not to provoke her.
Why did she say that I hit Kelly? Is that what she really thinks or is she lying?
It was clear that Hollowell wasn’t going to step aside and let Nora pass. For a long moment, the two women stood there, coolly assessing each other. Nora wouldn’t needle Deputy Hollowell, but she wasn’t going to be intimidated by her either.
Fuentes put a hand under Nora’s elbow and said, “I’ve got it from here, Hollowell.”
“Suit yourself,” Hollowell said with a casual air, but Nora could feel the deputy’s eyes boring into her back as she and Fuentes proceeded down the hall.
When they reached the door to the lobby, Nora turned to Fuentes and said, “Am I a suspect?”
He shook his head. “You’re a person of interest.”
The line between those two things was often very thin, and Nora knew she had cause to worry.
Fuentes gave her arm a gentle squeeze and opened the door. It was a small gesture, but the kindness behind it meant the world to Nora.
Though her interview had taken a little more than an hour, it had felt much longer. As soon as she passed through the doorway into the lobby, she practically ran to where June and Hester were waiting.
They sprang from their chairs and reached for her. Nora let them draw her in close. She never wanted to leave the warm, safe circle of their arms.
“How bad is it?” Hester whispered.
Nora’s composure broke. The tears she’d held back for the past hour raced down her cheeks. She clung to her friends like a frightened child.
“They think I had something to do with Kelly’s death.”
“No!” June hissed. “What about Grant? Isn’t he going to set them straight?”
Nora’s answer was a choked whisper. “What if he can’t? What if I did kill her?”
Chapter 6
Your lawyer is always on your side. Your enemies are his enemies.
—Stephen King
June refused to drop Nora off at home.
“I’m taking you to my house. If I don’t get some food in you, you’re going to pass out.”
“I can’t eat.”
Ignoring her protests, June bustled Nora into her car.
At the cozy two-bedroom house she shared with Sheldon, June led Nora into the kitchen and told her to sit down. She poured iced tea into four glasses and slid slices of bread into the toaster oven.
Sheldon materialized in the doorway and threw a puzzled glance at June. “Buenas noches. Am I interrupting?”
June waved him over to the counter. “Slice this banana, would you?”
“Yes, my liege.”
The toaster pinged and June coaxed the slices of hot bread onto two plates. She spread peanut butter over the bread, placed the banana slices on the peanut butter, and topped the open-faced sandwiches with a drizzle of honey. After cutting the bread into triangles, she put one plate in front of Nora and the second in the center of the table.
“It’d be weird if we sat here and stared at you while you eat, so we’ll join you,” June said, pulling Sheldon into the chair next to hers.
Nora took a small bite of her sandwich. The salty peanut butter combined with the sweetness of the banana and honey was soothing. The scent of toast made Nora feel like a kid again. If she closed her eyes, she could picture the kitchen of her childhood home with its yellow wallpaper and checked curtains. She could hear the pop of the toaster and the crunch of the butter knife as her mother passed the blade over crispy slices of cinnamon-raisin bread. This had been Nora’s favorite breakfast for years, and June’s offering took her right back to that yellow kitchen.
She gave June a grateful nod and took another bite.
“Is someone going to fill me in or am I just here to cut bananas and look pretty?” demanded Sheldon.
Nora rubbed the crumbs from her fingertips and said, “Remember Kelly and Tucker? The mother and son who were in the shop on Friday looking for origami books?”
“Of course. They were so—wait. Please tell me she’s okay.”
Very softly, Nora said, “She died last night.”
Sheldon clamped his hand over his mouth. “Dios mío. She went that fast?”
“You probably heard that I left Estella sitting at the diner counter, and that I left without saying goodbye.” When Sheldon said that he’d heard all about it, Nora went on. “That’s why Hester and June were at my place this afternoon. They were checking on me.”
“Because you weren’t answering your phone. And when one friend is worried, all friends get worried,” said June.
“I was telling those two what happened, when Grant and Fuentes showed up at my house. They wanted to talk to me about Kelly, so they took me to the station. Fuentes interviewed me first. Then he was joined by a bulldog called Deputy Hollowell. I’m now a person of interest in their investigation.”
Sheldon frowned. “Investigation?”
“Into Kelly’s death.”
“What?”
While Nora filled him in, Sheldon rhythmically stroked his silver mustache. By the time she reached the end of her narrative, he was shaking his head in dismay.
“This is crazy. Kelly. Your ex. The flowers.” He passed his hands over his face. “Wait. Why did Grant haul you to the station? He knows you didn’t hurt anyone.”
Hester said, “He has to play by the rules.”
Sheldon stared at Nora, his dark eyes swimming with concern. “Do you need a lawyer?”
June snapped her fingers. “I know exactly who you should talk to. Davis Godwin. He’s in my knitting circle.”
“Are you serious?” Sheldon smirked. “The world’s sexiest knitter is a lawyer?”
Everyone at the table knew about Davis Godwin because June had been singing his praises for the past two months. She’d repeatedly told her friends about the devilishly handsome and incredibly charming forty-five-year-old man who’d joined her Wednesday night knitting circle. They’d heard how he’d never held a knitting needle before but took to it like a duck to water. They’d heard that Davis was smart, funny, and always impeccably dressed. He’d joined the knitting circle to relax. He’d tried yoga, meditation, jigsaw puzzles, and bonsai gardening, but none of those activities had lowered his stress levels.
However, the rhythmic motion of knitting had loosened something inside of him. He finished his first project, the obligatory scarf, in record time. He started a new project, a doggie sweater, right away. Two weeks ago, he’d rented a passenger van to take the knitting circle to their favorite yarn store, Friends and Fiberworks. He’d also treated the group to lunch at Doc Brown’s BBQ.
June had gushed about this man at every book club meeting, but she was clearly gearing up to gush over him some more. “Did I mention that he looks like a middle-aged version of that beautiful man from Bridgerton?”
Sheldon scowled. “Like two hundred times. But Nora doesn’t need a sweater-making, cravat-wearing dandy. She needs a gladiator in a suit.”
“Davis is stressed because he always has a full caseload. He has a full caseload because everyone wants him to be their lawyer, which is why I want Nora to talk to him.”
Nora rested her hand on June’s. “Thanks for looking out for me, but I’m done talking tonight. I just want to go home.”
Two hours later, Nora was in bed. She’d taken a very long shower, put her pajamas on, and climbed into bed. She opened her book and tried to read, but there was no room in her head for words. She kept revisiting the moment when she pushed Kelly, and every time she pressed rewind, the same questions accompanied the playback.
What happened after I drove away?
Did she fall?
Am I responsible for her death?
The one person who could end her torturous speculation was McCabe, but as the night wore on and the silence of her tiny house closed around her, she began to doubt that she’d hear from him.
Nora rolled onto her side and glared at her phone, which was charging on the nightstand. Why didn’t the damn thing ring? Why didn’t the screen light up with a text?
“Why aren’t you calling me?” she whispered into the dark.
She was in a twilight sleep when her phone finally rang. Her book was splayed open on her chest, the pages folded like the bellows of an accordion, and when she jerked in surprise, the book flapped like a startled goose and dropped to the floor.
Grabbing the phone, she murmured a hello.
“Did I wake you?” McCabe asked.
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” she stammered. “I guess I dozed off.”
Nora picked up the book and tried to smooth its pages, but they refused to go flat. The folds had left deep creases, like premature wrinkles on a young person’s brow.
“I’m sorry about today,” McCabe said, sounding contrite. “I really am. I’ve never dealt with a situation like this before.”
“You mean, you’ve never dated a suspect before?”
McCabe grunted. “A person of interest.”
“From my perspective, they’re the same thing. Especially when no one will tell me how Kelly died. You have to tell me, Grant. Did I kill her?”
Her question was met by silence. Nora kept smoothing the creased pages like she was running an iron over rumpled fabric.
The seconds continued to tick by. When McCabe still didn’t speak, Nora’s anger sparked.
“How can I wake up and function tomorrow without knowing what happened? How am I supposed to talk to customers or do errands around town? How can I look anyone in the eye? If I killed another human being, I need to know about it! It’s wrong to leave me in the dark. Damn it, Grant. It’s more than wrong. It’s cruel.”
A sigh feathered through her speaker, and McCabe finally gave in. “Kelly didn’t fall. She was upset that you pushed her, but she wasn’t physically hurt by that push.”
The boulder that had been sitting in the center of Nora’s chest rolled off, and she let out a choking noise that was halfway between a gasp and a sob.
“Thank God. I was so scared that I’d . . .” Her breath hitched and she was unable to speak.
McCabe remained silent.
Eventually, when she was calmer, Nora said, “I’m sorry that she’s gone. I feel horrible for her family. Especially Tucker.”
McCabe responded with a vague, “Hmm.”
That’s when the truth hit Nora like a hammer.
“I’m still a suspect, aren’t I? I didn’t hurt her, but there’s more to this than you’re telling me. Which means she must’ve died later—after I pushed her. No one can vouch for my whereabouts until I was seen at the flea market. I have no alibi for that huge chunk of time.”
“I wish I hadn’t been on call.”
Nora let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Spending the night in bed with the sheriff would’ve made a handy alibi. What else can you tell me?”
“Nothing. I shouldn’t even be talking to you now.” After a pause, he said, “I know you didn’t do this, but I’m an elected official. Plenty of people would like to see someone else sitting behind my desk. If I screw up, I could lose the next election. And believe me, Nora, you’re way more important than my career, but the best way for me to protect you is to make sure my team solves this quickly, and by the book.”
“And in the meantime, we can’t communicate.”
McCabe’s reply was a mournful, “No.”
After they said good-bye, they’d have to act like strangers. For the sake of appearances, they needed to behave as if they didn’t love each other. They’d have to pack their true feelings away until it was safe to let them out again.
That’s not how love works, thought Nora.
Love was like a fire. It needed constant tending. It needed oxygen and fuel. Without these, it would lose heat. Its light would grow smaller and smaller until it was nothing but embers in ash. Eventually, there would be only the memory of flames.
“Things will probably get worse before they get better,” McCabe said. “But I need you to listen to me now. I love you. I trust you. I’m in your corner. No matter what it seems like, or what you hear, I’m with you. If you doubt anything in the upcoming days, don’t doubt how I feel about you. Don’t forget, okay? I love you, I trust you, and I’m in your corner.”
McCabe’s words loosened the knot of fear in Nora’s chest. “I know you’ll do what’s right. I believe in you, Grant, and I love you too.”
After wishing him a good night, she hung up.
* * *
Nora woke up long before her alarm was set to go off and shuffled into the kitchen to start the coffee. Even though she’d read that storing coffee grounds in the freezer didn’t keep them any fresher than storing them in a cupboard, she did it anyway. The bag of coffee was wedged between a pint of ice cream and a bag of frozen blueberries.
