If he were home, Mia would be able to massage the area and give his hip and lower back an adjustment. No doubt he would compensate in the coming days, hoping to ease the discomfort.
An idea began to form, and he couldn’t prevent a smile at the thought. He’d been searching for the right way to ask for Mia’s hand in marriage, planning elaborate scenarios at upscale restaurants and scenic locations.
The answer had been in front of him all along.
They’d met while jogging the same path, and their love of fitness was what had sparked their interest in one another in the first place. The park—the actual jogging path—where they'd first met was the perfect place to ask her to share his life.
“You wanted to speak with me?”
Theo had spotted an older man standing outside the breakroom, and he recognized Clyde Weaver from his driver’s license photo. The man lowered his arms, which had been crossed defensively over his faded gray maintenance uniform, and extended a hand.
Theo greeted him with unhurried casualness, ignoring the wariness in the man’s gaze. There were permanent calluses on his palms, and the odor of disinfectant clinging to his clothes was noticeable.
“Mr. Weaver, I’m Theo Neville. I was hoping to speak with you about Heather Moore.”
Clyde gave a terse nod, most likely having already heard what happened with Tyler Quinn. They both stepped into the breakroom, which was fortunately still unoccupied. Theo gestured toward the small table, positioning himself on the other side so that Clyde wouldn't feel cornered.
“I take it you heard about Mr. Quinn?”
“Not much surprises me anymore.” Clyde's gaze was direct, unflinching. His hands rested on his lap, fingers slightly curled, but not in unease. “Especially not when it comes to Tyler Quinn.”
“Was he close with Heather Moore?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Were you?”
“Heather was kind, bright, and could light up a room. Not many teachers acknowledge the maintenance staff as anything more than furniture, but Heather always stopped to ask how I was doing. Remembered my birthday. Sometimes, she even brought me coffee on cold mornings.” Clyde shrugged, as if that should provide Theo with everything he needed. “Don’t know what more I can add.”
“It’s come to our attention that you and Heather met outside of school hours regarding a painting you found in the old elementary school in Harrowick. Can you tell me about that?”
“Who told you that?” Clyde asked defensively, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Does it matter?”
Clyde considered Theo’s inquiry for a moment, then shrugged.
“I don’t know why you feel it’s important, but I thought the painting might be worth something. I asked Heather about it, and she said it wasn't worth two cents. Just some amateur work from decades ago.”
“But you met her outside of school hours?”
“Yes.” A faint smile ghosted across Clyde’s lips before disappearing. “Heather didn't make me feel foolish for asking.”
“Did you meet more than once?” Theo shifted his approach, moving more directly toward the information they needed. “And did any of these meetings occur on a Thursday?”
“Can't remember what day it was after eleven years,” Clyde replied, followed by a huff of agitation. “We met a couple of times, is all. Come to think of it, we wouldn't have met on a Thursday.”
“And why is that, Mr. Weaver?”
“Heather let it slip one time that she sometimes taught art classes for one of those reentry programs.” Clyde shrugged, as if he hadn’t spilled such a major reveal. “You know, the kind of reentry programs for felons who have just been released from prison.”
14
Brooklyn Sloane
January 2026
Wednesday – 1:11pm
