Chương 12
I stared at the dates.
Lucas came up behind me.
“What?”
“Lily had an old inhaler.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Then I did.
Not because memory arrived dramatically.
Because I pictured cleaning the hall closet in June.
A red inhaler rolling out of the pocket of an old winter coat.
I had put it in the kitchen junk drawer to throw away later.
The same drawer I had searched earlier.
I pulled it open.
Batteries.
Scissors.
Coupons.
No inhaler.
Beth came beside me.
“What are you looking for?”
“The expired inhaler.”
Lucas’s face changed.
“You said Lily’s good one was in her backpack.”
“It was.”
“And Grandma had the backpack.”
“Yes.”
Marjorie stood in the kitchen doorway.
“I’m sorry.”
I ignored her.
I emptied the junk drawer onto the counter.
Nothing.
Then Lucas said quietly, “Grandma was here Monday.”
I looked at him.
“Yesterday?”
“No.”
His face had gone pale.
“Monday before Lily died.”
“Why?”
“She brought over Dad’s tax documents.”
I stared at the empty drawer.
“Was she in the kitchen?”
“Yeah.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was I home?”
“No.”
I turned toward him.
“You let her in?”
“I was studying.”
He looked defensive.
“She said she needed the bathroom and wanted water.”
“She had access to this drawer?”
“I guess.”
Marjorie covered her mouth.
Beth whispered, “Claire.”
I held up one hand.
Not to silence her.
To keep myself standing.
The phone rang on the counter.
Detective Reyes.
I answered immediately.
Before I could speak, she said, “We found Lily’s backpack.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Where?”
“In Evelyn’s garage.”
For several seconds, I could not make my mouth work.
Lucas stepped closer.
“What?”
I put the phone on speaker.
Reyes repeated herself.
“The backpack was in a plastic storage bin in Mrs. Vance’s garage.”
Beth gripped the edge of the counter.
“Why was it there?”
I asked.
“That’s one of the questions we have.”
“Was the inhaler inside?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“Which inhaler?”
“We’re not making assumptions until the medication is verified.”
“Detective.”
“The label shows Lily’s name.”
“Is it expired?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Nobody moved.
The kitchen seemed too bright.
I looked at the emptied junk drawer scattered across the counter.
Batteries.
Coupons.
A bent screwdriver.
A roll of tape.
The missing red inhaler suddenly had a place in the world.
“Reyes.”
“I’m here.”
“I had an expired inhaler in this drawer.”
Silence.
“When did you last see it?”
“June.”
“That’s not recent.”
“No.”
“Who had access to the house?”
“Family.”
“Specifically.”
“Me, Lucas, Beth sometimes.”
Beth raised a hand as if this were school.
“And Evelyn.”
“Recently?”
Lucas answered.
“Monday.”
Reyes’s voice sharpened.
“The day before Lily’s asthma attack?”
“Yes.”
“What was she doing there?”
Lucas explained about the tax documents.
Reyes asked where he had been while Evelyn was inside.
“Upstairs mostly.”
“How long was she alone downstairs?”
“I don’t know.”
“Estimate.”
“Ten minutes.”
“Could be fifteen.”
“Did you see her near the kitchen drawers?”
“No.”
“Did you see what she carried when she left?”
Lucas’s face tightened.
“Her purse.”
“What kind?”
“Big.”
Beth muttered, “Helpful.”
Lucas shot her a look.
“I don’t know purse taxonomy.”
Under any other circumstances, that would have made me laugh.
Instead, I pressed both palms to the counter.
“Was Lily’s current inhaler in the backpack?”
I asked.
“That’s what I’m trying to determine,” Reyes said.
“What do you mean?”
“There is one inhaler in the backpack.”
“The expired one.”
“Yes.”
“So the current one is gone.”
“Possibly.”
“Not possibly.”
“Claire.”
“She had a new inhaler.”
“I understand.”
“She carried it in that backpack.”
“I understand.”
“Then where is it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I closed my eyes.
The phrase again.
I don’t know.
It had become the only honest thing in my life.
Reyes continued.
“We also found the spacer.”
“Used?”
“I can’t answer that yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because it needs to be processed.”
“Processed for what?”
“Residue, condition, prints if useful.”
Lucas leaned toward the phone.
“Did Grandma hide the backpack?”
“We found it under seasonal decorations.”
“That means yes.”
“It means it was under seasonal decorations.”
“Come on.”
“I don’t get to turn placement into intent without more.”
He threw up both hands.
“What would count as more?”
“Her fingerprints on the moon?”
“Lucas,” I said.
“No, seriously.”
His voice cracked.
“What does she have to do before somebody says what this is?”
Reyes did not answer immediately.
Then she said, “She has to be proved to have committed a crime.”
Lucas turned away from the phone.
I watched him pace once across the kitchen.
Then twice.
“Where is Evelyn now?”
I asked.
“She is not at home.”
“What?”
“We executed a search warrant approximately twenty minutes ago.”
“And she wasn’t there?”
“No.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“Did you know where she was before that?”
“She was seen leaving her residence around seven thirty.”
“By whom?”
“A neighbor.”
“Her car?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“We’re looking.”
Lucas turned back.
“So now she’s running.”
“Possibly.”
He laughed.
Reyes added, “Her phone appears to be off.”
The room changed.
Until then, Evelyn had still occupied the familiar shape of herself in my mind.
Her house.
Her church.
Her handbag.
Her peppermint.
A woman who believed she could control every conversation.
Now she was somewhere else.
Moving.
Planning.
Maybe frightened.
That frightened me more.
“Should we leave?”
I asked.
Reyes understood immediately.
“Is your house secure?”
“Yes.”
“Doors and windows?”
“I think.”
“Check.”
Beth was already moving toward the back door.
Reyes continued.
“If Mrs. Vance contacts you, do not engage.”
“She already contacted Lucas.”
“I mean physically.”
My stomach clenched.
“Do you think she might come here?”
“I don’t know.”
I almost screamed at the phrase.
Instead, I said, “Fine.”
“I’m sending a patrol unit past your house.”
Lucas muttered, “That sounds reassuring.”
“It is meant to be practical.”
He looked away.
Reyes said she would call when they located Evelyn.
May you like
Then she asked Marjorie to remain available.
Marjorie looked terrified at hearing her own name through the speaker.
