I know Britt, but I don’t know what it’s like to kiss her. I don’t know what it’s like to honestly tell her how I feel.
I’m chained up.
Chapter
two
The following day a tall, broad-shouldered man let himself into the police station meeting room where Zander and Carolyn waited. “Good morning. I’m Detective Kurt Shaw.”
Zander and Carolyn rose to greet the officer with handshakes.
“Carolyn Pierce.”
“Thank you for stopping by the station, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome. I’d like to introduce you to my nephew, Zander Ford.”
“I think we went to high school together,” the detective said to Zander. “I graduated with your brother.”
Recognition clicked. Kurt and Daniel hadn’t been close friends, but they’d gotten along well with each other. As far as Zander could recall, Kurt had gotten along with everyone. He’d been a scholar athlete who’d seemed older than his years—steadier and more responsible than his classmates.
“I remember,” Zander said. “You and Daniel both played baseball.”
“We did. Nice to see you again.”
“Likewise.”
Kurt must have started losing his hair at an early age because he was probably only thirty, yet had already shaved his head. Hisrecessed eyes were set into a kind, forthright face. He wore navy pants and a maroon-and-blue checked shirt. Both looked like they’d been pulled out of a dry cleaning bag this morning.
Kurt set the file he’d been carrying onto the table as they took their seats. The white-walled room contained one rectangular window and no decoration, save for a framed print of the American flag and a bulletin board with the round insignia of the Merryweather police force tacked to it.
“Zander, are you up to speed on what happened to your uncle?” Kurt asked.
“Carolyn’s filled me in, but I’d like to hear it from your perspective, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Kurt adjusted the position of his large black sports watch, placing the face directly on top of his wrist. “This past Saturday morning at approximately nine o’clock, our office received a call about your uncle’s truck. It was parked on the shoulder of Shadow Mountain Road in a no parking zone. One of our officers was in the area, so he swung by to investigate. He reached the truck at 9:10 and found your uncle slumped over in the front seat. He checked Frank’s vitals. When he could find none, he called the police chief, who contacted me. We arrived shortly after to process the scene. In time, Frank’s body was released to the medical examiner, who has forwarded me his preliminary findings.” Kurt opened the file. “Just so you’re both aware, the formal autopsy report won’t be available for approximately six weeks.”
“At this point,” Carolyn said, “my family and I would be grateful for any information at all. We just ... we can’t believe what’s happened.”
“I understand.” Kurt regarded Carolyn with compassion, then glanced over the report. “The medical examiner has determined Frank’s cause of death to be acute myocardial infarction. A blockage of blood flow to the heart.”
This can’t be right. Frank can’t bedead, Zander’s brain insisted yet again. “A heart attack.”
“Yes.” Kurt turned his attention to Carolyn. “Did your husband have heart issues, Mrs. Pierce?”
“He did, yes. He had some blockages in the past that they treated with stents. His doctors prescribed medicine and encouraged him to eat well and exercise and avoid stress. I thought we had it under control,” she finished weakly.
“Was he good about taking his medicine?”
“He was.”
Carolyn sat with her legs crossed, hands mounded on her upper knee, unnaturally still. Her face was a little too oval and her nose a little too long to be considered conventionally beautiful. Yet at the age of sixty, Carolyn’s features still held their own unique brand of attractiveness.
She’d parted her long, wavy, blond-gray hair down the middle. As usual, she’d dressed in a loose top, belt, skirt, sandals. Even her artistic turquoise earrings were familiar to Zander. Yet she wasn’t herself today.
She worked in a gift shop on Merryweather’s Main Street, and her customers all adored her for her peaceful, friendly, optimistic personality. The shock of Frank’s death had stripped those qualities from her. Zander could see and feel her tension. She reminded him of a rubber band stretched too far then held immobile to keep from snapping.
Zander’s parents’ relationship had been rocky. But Carolyn’s relationship with Frank had been smooth. Frank had told everyone who’d listen how lucky he was to be married to Carolyn, how much he loved and valued her.
