Page 124 of Forever Gone

“No.”

“You keep checking the time.”

“Do I?”

“A little.”

Carol placed her fork beside the plate. “Sorry. Habit.”

Deb smiled to show the comment had not been criticism. “I do the same thing at work. Harry has three clocks in the shop, and somehow none of them agree.”

“Harry always was cheap.”

“He says it’s atmospheric.”

A short breath left Carol. It might have been amusement.

Deb tried again. “I saw Marjorie Bell this afternoon. She asked after you.”

“Did she?”

“She’s organizing another collection for the church roof.”

Carol reached for her water. “That roof’s been leaking since we were children.”

“I told her that. She said this time they’re going to fix it properly.”

“That’s what they said last time.”

The glass paused near Carol’s mouth. She did not drink. Condensation gathered beneath her fingers before she set it down again.

Her right hand moved toward her waist.

The blouse she wore hung loosely over dark trousers, but the fabric tightened as her fingers pressed against something beneath it. The movement lasted less than a second. Carol brought her hand back to the table and rested it near the knife beside her plate.

Deb had noticed the same gesture in the living room.

At first, she thought Carol had clipped her phone inside the waistband. Then she wondered whether a back problem had returned. Carol used to complain about a muscle near her hip after long shifts.

The object beneath the blouse did not seem shaped like a phone. A dark clip showed for an instant at the top of Carol’s waistband before the fabric fell back into place.

A branch tapped against the side of the house.

Deb turned toward the sound. “I need to cut that back before winter.”

Carol said nothing.

The clock continued its quiet count.

Deb placed her fork down. “I’ve been thinking about Karen Sloane.”

Carol’s knife stopped halfway through another potato.

The local news had released little beyond the victims’ names, ages, and locations. Elmsview supplied the rest. The women had been killed in different places, but no one in town believed the deaths were separate anymore. Ruth Keller’s neighbors had seen federal agents. Linda Mercer had disappeared and turned up dead. People filled every official silence with whispers.

Carol resumed cutting. “What about her?”

“And Ruth. Linda, too.”