“What can we do to help them?” My head turned toward the living room, toward Sam and the kids. “They can stay here for now, but what if he comes for them?”
Nolan shook his head. “They can’t stay here. Mrs. Dustin might be a witness in your daughter’s murder trial. Her testimony could be important. We can’t have her look like your friend who lives with you.” He exhaled. “And it’s not safe. What if Billy comes for them?”
His jaw tightened.
“Fuck. I’ll fix this. Somehow,” he said, then went quiet, eyes unfocused, thinking. Then a nod. “Okay. I’ll drive them to a women’s shelter north of Boston. I know the director well. She’s good at what she does. They’ll get a room there. Food. Clothes. Money. Toys. Even a lawyer. If anyone can get Sam to leave that piece of shit, it’s her.”
I nodded.
“After that, I’ll drive to Billy’s,” Nolan continued. “Let him know they’re at a shelter. So he doesn’t start looking for them here and cause trouble.”
Another nod.
“And first thing tomorrow morning, you get your family back,” he said. “They can’t stay at the victim’s widow’s house. None of this helps you in the end. It could just cause more problems than you need right now.”
I nodded again, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to follow that request. There was no law against living with the victim’s widow when you were related to the suspect. No rule saying I had to tear my family apart just to make things easier for everyone else. My family had eaten a normal dinner for the first time in weeks. The kids had smiled again. Brian had looked sober.
The kids needed a mom. And Amanda could hold that place for Lacey while I tried to save her. Until Lacey could take it back.
“Are you going to look into Myers?” I asked.
Nolan cocked a brow. “So that’s what you were doing at the Seacoast Inn.”
“Sam told me that’s where he stays when he’s around,” I said. “She also told me that the night of Zach’s murder, Billy and Myers were arguing in the kitchen. Myers was covered in blood. Something felt off, she said. She just knew he’d done something really bad that night.”
Nolan listened. His gaze stayed fixed and serious. Then he leaned back against the counter. “Fuck.”
“What are we going to do?” I asked. “We need to find him.”
“First of all,” he said, straightening, “there is nowe.” His tone hardened. “You’ll leave this investigation to me. If I have questions, I’ll reach out. And that’s it. No more playing Columbo or Miss Marple. This isn’t a TV show. In the real world, people get hurt doing what you’re doing.” His eyes locked on mine. “And the last thing those kids need is to lose their grandma too.”
I stared at him in silence.
He took it as agreement. And maybe it was. “Good,” he said. “Now get some rest. I’ll get Mrs. Dustin and the kids to Susan. She’ll take care of them.”
He turned toward the living room, but I grabbed his arm. His eyes dropped to my hand.
“Thank you.”
For the first time since the murder, some of the weight fell off my shoulders. Like I wasn’t carrying all of this alone anymore. Like somebody was fighting with me. Not against me.
“Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll text you once they’re at the shelter.”
He took another step, then stopped.
“And for Christ’s sake,” he added, “next time, call me before you do anything that, you know, a sweet teacher shouldn’t be doing.”
“I don’t want to lie to you again,” I said softly. “So I can’t make that promise.”
He blinked. “Wait. Lie again? When did you lie to me?”
I gently pushed him toward the living room. “Let’s talk about that another time. I want to say good-bye to Sam. Then I need to get some sleep, or I’ll end up in the psych ward tonight.”
He let it go, barely, an annoyed look on his face.
“Fine. I’ll start the car and carry the kids to their car seats.”
Chapter 28
