“I saw the roses.”
Conner and Sarah exchanged a look. “What roses?” he asked.
“The red ones. A big bouquet. Sandra Gerard got them the day before they found her girl’s body.”
Sarah noticed the new tension in Conner’s posture. This was something he didn’t know. “Who were they from?” Sarah inquired before he could.
“The card was unsigned. Just said, ‘Deepest regrets.’” Marta shrugged. “When I took that fruit basket to Sandra, I asked her about them. I didn’t say nothing, of course. I didn’t want to upset her.”
“Did you speak to Chief Willard about this?” Conner was visibly agitated now.
Sarah was mildly intrigued.
Marta frowned as she shook her head. “I didn’t really think about it. I figured the chief would remember same as I did. You’re too young,” she said to Conner. “But the day before those two missing girls were found twenty years ago, each family received a big old bouquet of red roses. They never did know who sent them. Could’ve been anybody, I guess.”
“No one thought the flowers were relevant?” Sarah asked.
“I guess I can see why they wouldn’t,” Marta explained. “When there’s an illness or death or something like that, most folks take something to the family. It’s the community’s way of helping. I just thought it was an odd coincidence.”
Sarah scarcely took the time to thank the lady before walking quickly to the parking lot. “Take me to the Gerards’ home.” He wouldn’t like her request. If she hadn’t let him talk her into riding along in his vehicle, she could just go. She wanted to see those flowers. To touch them. Her instincts were humming.
“That’s probably not a good idea.” He paused on the sidewalk. “The family’s been through enough. They’ve—”
Frustration lashed through her. “Their daughter is dead. What the hell do you people expect? To just close the book and forget the last chapter? There should be more questions!” She was pissed now. “The questions shouldn’t stop until we have all the answers.”
For five seconds he stared at her.
She was the first to blink. Damn. That almost never happened.
“Fine. We’ll go over there.” He stepped off the curb. “But it’s a waste of time. Like I was trying to tell you, Valerie’s parents have gone to Florida for a couple of months to stay with friends.” He looked at Sarah across the top of the car. “You’re right, the investigation has to continue, they just couldn’t be a part of it anymore.”
“If they’re not home, what does it matter if I snoop around? They’ll never know.” These people had to get past the whole “Let’s not inconvenience anyone” or “hurt anybody’s feelings.” A girl was dead! What did it take to wake them up?
“You wouldn’t understand.” He shook his head. “There’s this thing called respect—”
“That doesn’t make sense.” How was trying to find their daughter’s killer being disrespectful?
“Just get in the Jeep, Newton.”
Sarah kept her mouth shut during the drive along Main. He turned onto Central Street and she mentally braced. Going to the victim’shome was one of the worst parts. Seeing things the way they used to be and knowing it would never be that way again. Looking into the eyes of those left behind ... but there was nobody home here.
That felt wrong. Maybe she just couldn’t understand the reaction. Bury your child and then take off the very next day?
But then, she was definitely no expert on the interactions between parents and their children.
Conner parked at the curb in front of 1118 Central. It wouldn’t have mattered whether or not Sarah knew the address already. The evidence of loss was all over the place. Hundreds of bouquets. Cards and stuffed animals. Candles. The front of the house and the porch were lined with gifts.
“I don’t know about you,” Conner said, “but I would find it difficult to come home to this.”
They emerged from the Jeep simultaneously. Sarah couldn’t take her eyes off the house. The rest of the neighborhood didn’t matter. The feeling of emptiness, despite the visible outpouring of gifts, was overpowering.
Maybe he had a point.
Sarah climbed the steps. She didn’t knock or ring the bell, she tried the door. Locked.
“That would be trespassing,” Conner warned.
She didn’t care. The need to go inside—to see—was overwhelming. She had to do it.
