She turned to Chance. “Is it strange that on a Friday night in May, there wasn’t a single other rented property on this street?” Not once in two years had she considered the idea. But now, looking back, it seemed odd.
“Let’s sit down and discuss what you remember about the other houses.”
Rory led the way to the main living area. It too was small. Just a sofa, side tables and a dining table. The space was connected to the galley kitchen. Just a modest rectangle with those same cathedral ceilings. An iron spiral staircase at the other end led to a loft.
She sat down on the sofa while Chance pulled a chair from the table so he could sit facing her without, she assumed, crowding her too much.
“The wedding was at six on a Friday.” She smiled, thinking back. “We were so busy. We’d considered waiting until later in the summer and taking a real honeymoon in the Bahamas or something like that, but we couldn’t wait. In the end, we decided to keep it simple. There would be plenty of time for more lavish vacations.”
Except there hadn’t been time.
“So you arrived here about what time?”
No doubt he was aware of all these details from her statement in the case file, but she understood that he wanted her to revisit those details in hopes of sparking a new memory. Maybe he was on to something, because she had remembered not locking the door and the oddity of none of the other rentals in the little cove being occupied.
“Wait…” A frown tugged at her lips. “The detective—Fowler, Detective Raymond Fowler—said if there had been intruders, then surely there would have been evidence the door had been tampered with.” Her gaze collided with Chance’s. “But if we didn’t lock the door, then that wouldn’t be the case.”
“Excellent point,” he agreed. “Think about when you rushed out to find help. Do you recall if the door was damaged in some way? Did you have to stop and open it, or was it already open?”
Rory closed her eyes and summoned that painful memory. She had carefully lowered Pete to the floor. She’d been sitting on the floor holding him for a very long time. Hours surely. Just rocking back and forth with him leaned against her chest. She’d gotten up and walked to the door. She remembered looking back several times. Then she’d been outside.
“I think…” She replayed the memory again. “No.” She shook her head. “I know I did not open the door when I left, so it had to be open already.”
“You walked out into the darkness,” he said, prompting her to go on.
“It was cool. The moon was big…like last night.” She blinked, prodding her brain for more. “I remember wrapping my arms around myself…and the stones.” Her toes curled in her shoes. “No, not stones, gravel. The gravel was jabbing at my feet because I hadn’t put on my shoes.”
By the time a driver had come along, her feet had been bruised, the flesh ruptured by the gravel and rocks and whatever else she had stepped on.
“I went to the left first. I rushed from house to house. There were no lights on anywhere. No cars…just Pete’s SUV. I banged on all the doors, but no one answered. Later the detective said no one was home at any of the other rentals at the time.” She settled her attention once more on the man watching her. “Then I ran for a while. To River Drive and… I just kept going until there were headlights.”
“Before you left this street,” he said, “did you hear anything? Sound carries at night. Maybe cars on a road farther away? Dogs? Anything at all?”
She struggled to find a snippet of memory that included some sort of sound. “No. I don’t remember anything.” She frowned. “There was this hollow sound in my head. The echo of my own breath…the pounding in my chest.”
“What did you smell? Smoke? It was a cool night. Maybe from a chimney. Or the lingering odor of an outdoor firepit that had been used earlier in the night. Exhaust from a car.”
“Just that earthy smell after rain.” Her brow furrowed as she searched her memories. “It had rained, I guess. I remember my feet were damp.”
“There was no mention of rain in the case file reports.”
“Maybe it only rained a little, but it rained. I distinctly remember my feet were wet.” She sat up straighter. “The detective insisted it hadn’t rained, but I was certain it had.”
“Easy enough to find out.” He pulled out his cell phone and started a search.
The memory of rushing along the street scrolled through her mind. “There are bigger houses on River Drive. I remember seeing them in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t stop. I guess because no one had been home at the ones here, I was sure noone would be at any of those either. They were all dark. But it was late. People were probably just in bed. All I could think about was running until I found my way back to town…to help.”
She remembered the determination and desperation to find help…it eclipsed all other thought. Even rational thought.
“You’re right.” He looked up from his phone. “Hollywood got one tenth of an inch of rain that night. Not much but enough that if you went outside immediately after it stopped, the grass and pavement would have been wet.”
That was at least two things the detective had gotten wrong. The door had been unlocked, so no need for tampering, and it had rained.
“If the intruders parked and walked on the pavement,” she offered, “that would explain the lack of any sort of footprints or tire prints after the rain.”
“It would, yes,” Chance agreed. “Let’s go back to when you first arrived. Your statement said you arrived here before nine.”
“Yes. We had our ceremony in the park. Everyone wished us well, and off we went. There was no reception. Honestly, it was a very small gathering. Maybe a dozen people besides our families. We had a basket prepared for our dinner that night.”
