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She waved away the compliment. “It’s what I’m here for. Amelia and I like to volunteer whenever we have time, or until Mrs. Collins kicks us out. Sometimes we can overstay our welcome a bit.” She widened her eyes then winked at Amelia.
Amelia giggled. “Mrs. Collins lobes me.”
The way the little girl pronounced the v in love melted Marie’s heart. “How could she not?”
Amelia grinned. “Wanna samwich?”
“Or she can make her own,” Sadie said, then slid the sliced tomatoes in her direction. “Take a seat. You’re our only guest right now so no need to wait for anyone else. Would you like me to hold the little one for you so you have two free hands?”
Mrs. Collins cleared her throat. “Excuse me, but I call dibs. If and when she’s ready to hand her over. Go ahead and sit.”
Marie pinged her attention around the room, trying to keep up with all the banter. Being trapped for so long with only Nora and Bill for company had left her social skills rusty.
Not to mention her nerves were stretched so tight, she had a hard time keeping her mind on anything other than the mess that led her here.
But if she wanted to ever make a better life for her and Nora, she needed to put Bill and all his abuse and his scheming and his bullshit in her rearview mirror. She needed to figure out her new normal without him. She had to trust these women—and one very cute girl—to help her.
She summoned all the courage Bill had tried to stomp out of her and plucked Nora from her carrier. “I haven’t had two hands to eat in a very long time. Sounds wonderful.” She handed her most precious gift to Mrs. Collins then took a seat beside Amelia, who gleefully made her a sandwich.
This was the beginning of her new life, even if Bill still loomed large, and her first step toward freedom. She took a big bite and grinned. “This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.”
Owen rummaged through the rest of the bag, hoping to find more information about the woman who’d owned the purse. Bill had to be nuts if he thought no one would notice his poor excuse of a hiding place where he’d stuffed Erica’s personal items, but he probably didn’t count on being shot by a crazy old man before he could clean up his mess.
A light tap sounded on the front door before it swung open.
Tommy entered the room, and his eyes widened. An unnatural paleness swept over his bronze face. Sandy blond hair brushed across his forehead, moisture clumping together the longer-than-usual strands. He cleared his throat, tore his gaze from the blood, and locked eyes with first Mike, then Owen. “The crime scene unit is here.”
Owen returned the purse to the floor and stood. “Okay. Let’s step outside and talk.”
His dad followed him to the door, and Owen led the way back to his car. He nodded his greeting to the individuals who’d arrived to go over the house with a fine-tooth comb. “We need to find the bastard who lives here.”
Tommy glanced around. “Isn’t this Pappy’s property?”
Owen’s gaze flickered to his dad for a beat then focused on Tommy again. His coloring had returned to normal, and he’d hidden his hazel eyes behind a pair of aviator sunglasses. “I thought the same thing. I want to ask him about it, but why don’t you do some digging? See whose name is on the deed. The woman who lives here claims they rented the house from a friend. If she’s lying—or more likely in the dark about what’s going on—we need to find out who got a house with running water and electricity on Pappy’s land without him knowing.”
Tommy pressed his lips together, squaring his strong jaw and showing his displeasure. “Do you really think that’s the best way to use me right now? A woman is dead and the suspect is at large. Let me help find him.”
“Tommy.” Mike drew out his name the same way he’d done when Tommy had been in trouble as a boy. He shifted his weight and pulled up his pants, even though they sat snuggly around his expanding middle.
Owen held up a hand. “You don’t need to interfere, Dad.” He brought his attention back to his brother. “Someone rented out this house, and finding out who could be a big part in finding Bill. We don’t know much about this guy, but the woman who lives here mentioned him not having many friends. They’re new to town. The owner of this house may be the only connection.”
“I didn’t think about that,” Tommy said.
“That’s why you’re the rookie.” Owen lightened his tone and smirked. He wanted Tommy to help with the investigation, but he always wanted him to know his place. “Dad, you want a job?”
Mike snorted out a laugh, and the shadows from his hat couldn’t hide the wrinkles around his pale blue eyes. “I’m the sheriff. I don’t need you assigning me a job.”
Owen narrowed his eyes and quirked a brow. “Really? When’s the last time you got out from behind that big desk of yours? You’re an elected official now, not a uniform patrolling the streets.”
“Doesn’t mean I forgot how. But you’re right, it’s been a while, and you’re the lead on this. I can take orders as well as anyone.” Mike tipped the brim of his hat and showed the tiny lift of his lips. “When I have to.”
Despite the pressure suffocating Owen to do his job, he laughed. “Call the paper where Erica Zyler worked. Find out if it’s just a coincidence this woman was at the bar with Bill Flanders, or if it’s something deeper.”
Mike frowned. “You think she was investigating him?”
Owen shrugged. “Makes sense to me. Why else murder a random woman you brought home from the bar? He has a history of abusive behavior, but nothing to indicate he’s gone this far before.”
“How do you know this guy’s history?” Tommy asked, taking a step forward.
