But my heart? It wasn’t listening to reason and clung to the possibility—however remote—that somehow Grandma was right.
CHAPTER 31
Theo
Preppingfor our first playoff game—and school in general—kept mebusy all week. And the fact that Pen and I spent more nights together in my bed than in our separate rooms probably should have worried me.
But it was so good, I couldn’t bring myself to keep my distance. Besides, we were on the same page. We’d just added a new dimension to our friendship.
We’d met with Garrett Thursday night to go over what we knew and show him the notes we’d found. The body at the creek had already been identified as a woman in her late twenties who’d disappeared five years earlier from nearby Wenatchee.
Garrett took the possibility that Morris had something to do with both victims seriously, but made it clear that they didn’t have enough to consider Morris a suspect. Our theory that he’d intentionally painted the sites where the bodies were found was interesting, but so far, just a theory. And could be a coincidence.
I didn’t think so, but the ins and outs of law enforcement investigations were Garrett’s area.
Football was mine, and Friday night, my kids killed it. Away games were always tough—harder mentally—but they’d playedlike they already knew they were going to win. They were just showing the other team.
It had been a great way to end the week, especially since Pen had made the two-and-a-half-hour drive to watch the game. We’d both slept in the next day and spent a leisurely day together—mostly in bed.
I woke up Sunday to a text from my mom asking if I wanted to join them at Christmas Village. It was still November, but Christmas Village had expanded to open in the fall with a pumpkin patch and hayrides. Personally, I was in for the hot cocoa and kettle corn.
Penelope had slept in her own room Saturday night. Probably for the best. I liked it when she stayed in bed with me, but we were walking a thin line.
I got up, and when I came out of my bedroom, Penelope’s door was open, but I didn’t see her in there. She wasn’t in the kitchen or in the living room, either. Had she gone somewhere? A quick check out front confirmed her car was in the driveway. She could have gone for a walk. The sky was clear, but it was pretty cold out, so I doubted that was the case.
I went back down the hallway and approached her art studio. The door was ajar, and I could hear the faint sound of her humming. Quietly, I moved closer, my mouth turning up in the hint of a smile. She was still in her tank top and pajama pants with her hair in a ponytail. Palette in one hand and paintbrush in the other, her back was to me, and I watched as she took a step away from her easel and tilted her head, as if considering.
Still humming softly, she painted a few strokes, pausing to dip her brush into the paint. From what I could see, she was painting a creek. It wasn’t the same scene in the Morris piece. This was her own. The creek curved around wet rocks and the sky was a brilliant blue.
It was stunning.
I watched her for a moment, captivated, until my chest started to ache. Pulling myself from the scene I couldn’t get enough of, I turned and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. I didn’t want to interrupt her.
Halfway through my first cup, she emerged. She had a few flecks of white paint on her cheek and a bit of blue on her nose.
“I didn’t hear you get up.” She put her palette and brush in the sink and came to the table. “How’s your head? I was worried you might be getting a migraine.”
“Really?” Instinctively, I stretched my neck. Everything felt fine. “No, I think I’m okay.”
“That’s good.”
“What made you worry I was getting a migraine?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes you make a face like your head hurts and rub the back of your neck. You did it a few times yesterday.”
I stared at her for a second, struck by the fact that she’d noticed.
I wasn’t sure what to do with that, so I tried to brush off the feeling. “I’m good. What are you up to today? You know, since we’re no longer hunting for bodies.”
She laughed. “My lack of amateur detective work has left my schedule remarkably open.”
“My family is going to Christmas Village. Any interest in wandering around with a bunch of Havens? I can’t promise my brothers will behave themselves, but there will be hot cocoa and kettle corn.”
“Hot cocoa and kettle corn sound fantastic. When do we need to leave?”
I checked the time. “We have a couple of hours, so take your time.”
“I’ll go shower.” She stood. “I probably have paint on me. Do I have paint on my face?”
