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“Holding her own,” Nola said though she hadn’t been to the hospital to visit or even called for several days.
“Tell her we’re thinking of her.” Again, Joyce reached for Winnie but Nola held tight, her fingers massaging the dog’s ears. The front door opened and out stepped Cam Harper. Above him moths banged their wings against the porch light.
“Nola,” he said. “Did Winnie sneak off again?” he asked, sliding an arm around his wife’s waist. Cam Harper was tall, handsome with a quick smile and eyes that snapped with mischief. Nola had always thought he was a pompous ass.
Nola forced a smile. “She just came over to say hello.” Nola craned her neck to peer inside the house. She’d only been inside a few times and the final time was when she was ten. She had never been invited back. Joyce tried to take a nonchalant step to the right to block her view but Nola loomed over her and could see that except for some new furniture, the interior was just as she remembered it: expansive maple floors, wood-encased radiators, the fireplace big enough to hide a body in.
“Why don’t you come on in for a minute,” Cam offered in a smooth voice. “Joyce and I were just sitting down for a glass of wine. Please join us.”
Joyce shot her husband a venomous glare. “Yes, please, come in,” she echoed tightly. Joyce would make Cam pay for this later.
Nola stepped inside. The air was so cold that even the honey-colored walls and the inviting glow of the wall sconces gave only the illusion of warmth. Again, Joyce reached out for Winnie. Nola finally handed her over.
“I’ll just go put her to bed for the night,” Joyce said, whisking Winnie from the room.
“How have you been?” Cam asked. “Don’t see you around much.” Cam Harper had to be about sixty years old now, Nola thought. Still trim and fit looking, Nola would see him jogging through the neighborhood in the early morning hours on her way to the clinic.
“I work a lot,” Nola said as she wandered around the living room following the progression of photos that chronicled the growth of their twins. First as newborns, wrapped burrito-style and tucked into each crook of their father’s elbows, as towheaded toddlers with matching outfits and as devilish gap-toothed seven-year-olds wearing T-ball uniforms. There were photos of the twins as high school seniors gazing importantly into the camera and a few years later with their spouses. Riley looked just like his father, Rebecca like her mother, Nola thought. If the photos were part of an art installation it would be entitled De-evolution.
“Cabernet okay?” Cam asked, coming up behind Nola, his breath in her ear.
“Sure,” Nola said, turning so that her back was against the wall, Cam just inches away.
“I heard on the news that some evidence in your sister’s case was found.” Cam handed her a delicate glass filled with red wine. “Is that true?”
So this was why Cam had invited her inside the house. He wanted the latest scoop on Eve’s murder. “Apparently,” Nola said, taking a sip from her glass.
“Eve was a nice girl,” Cam said reaching around Nola, brushing his hand against her shoulder to pull a photo of the twins from the wall. “Did you know we’re grandparents now? They have their own kids now. Rebecca has a five-year-old boy and Riley has girls, seven and nine. Eve was good with our kids. They still talk about her.”
“Eve was good at a lot of things,” Nola said, taking a step closer to Cam so that they were nearly nose to nose.
“She was,” Cam agreed. “So the reporter said something about a shoe. Is that the new evidence?”
“Her boot,” Nola answered.
“After all these years? That’s remarkable,” Cam marveled. “It’s a shame they never caught anyone. I’m glad to hear that they are looking into Eve’s case again.”
Nola leaned in until her lips were nearly touching Cam’s ear. “Are you?” she whispered.
Cam’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Of course I am.”
“What kind of recovery is your mom looking at?” Joyce asked, stepping back into the room, unaware of the tension between Nola and her husband.
“You know, hip injuries can be so unpredictable.” Nola eased away from Cam and waved her hand around as if to indicate the nebulous nature of broken bones. “Cam was just asking me about Eve’s case,” Nola said. “They’re hoping that they’ll be able to find some new forensics. Who knows? Stranger things have happened.”
“Oh? That’s good,” Joyce said. “I imagine it dredges up a lot of sad memories for your mother.” She paused. “And for you too, of course. It was such a frightening time. Not knowing what crazy person was out there killing people.”
Nola nodded in agreement. “I’m sure Maggie O’Keefe will be around to talk to you.”
“Why would Maggie talk to us?” Joyce asked. “We don’t know anything.”
“Just routine, I’m sure.” Nola smiled. “In fact, Maggie stopped over to talk to me today. I figure she’ll be making the rounds.”
Joyce steered the conversation to the weather and Nola quickly drained the last of her wine. “Well, I should probably get going.” Joyce looked relieved when Nola handed over her empty glass.
“I’ll walk you out,” Cam said. Cam closed the door behind them and walked Nola to the end of the driveway.
“Does your wife know?” Nola asked.
