Chapter Fifty-Six
904 Williams Avenue
Tuesday, August 10; 1:59 a.m.
CJ jerked awake.
She rolled onto her back. Blinked. Had to gain her bearings. Edward’s home. She glanced at the clock.
She listened. Something had awakened her. A sound. She shivered, chafed her arms. Goose bumps covered her skin. She sat up and listened. All quiet.
But she was awake now. Throwing back the covers, she dropped her feet to the floor. She could eat. She’d scarcely touched a bite at the party tonight.
Party. She smiled. Shelley would have loved that. A party instead of a wake. That was definitely a first for CJ.
She stopped midway across the room. Why was the door to her room open? She’d closed it when she came in to go to bed. She was sure of it. Maybe Edward had peeked in on her.
Braddock had called to check on her before midnight. He’d told her about Nash. As much as she was relieved that the village residents would no longer be held hostage by him, the news hadn’t given her the solace she’d hoped it would. The murders of Shelley, Ricky, Juanita, and Costall remained unresolved. Unless Braddock could find evidence linking those murders to Nash, would they ever know what really happened?
The idea that they might not twisted inside her as she padded along the wide upstairs corridor.
At the top of the stairs she paused. Was that music she heard coming from Edward’s wing? She wasn’t sure that side of the house was actually a wing, but if it was as large as the opposite side, it was certainly big enough to be one in her opinion.
Maybe he couldn’t sleep either.
Just in case he was sleeping, she moved as quietly as possible down the stairs and toward the kitchen.
She paused at the entrance to the parlor. Sniffed. What was that smell? Moving with caution, she entered the parlor. It was dark, but the smell was much stronger. She switched on a table lamp and glanced around.
Recognition startled her. It smelled like the rubble of her burned-out home.
Had something been burning?
No alarms had gone off.
She walked over to the massive fireplace and squatted to get a look. Frowning at the dust—Edward’s house was always immaculate—she reached down and touched it. The bricks still felt warm. Had he burned something? It was as hot as Hades outside. That didn’t make sense. She sniffed her fingers. Not dust. The soot left behind by ashes.
Something snagged her attention. She reached deep into the fireplace, beyond the grates. She picked up the object. Black. A scrap of fabric. She’d have to ask him. Strange.
Who knew? Maybe he burned any personal papers he didn’t want to throw in the trash. With identity theft rampant, she couldn’t blame him for that. But what about the piece of fabric? That he had been wearing a black tee tonight entered her mind.
Whatever, CJ. She was being ridiculous. It was his house; he could burn whatever he wanted. Maybe he’d gotten blood on his T-shirt andhad decided not to try to wash it out. Big deal. Weird. But then, he could have simply tossed it in the trash. Odd at the very least.
She left the scrap of fabric on the brick hearth, dusted her palms together, and pushed to her feet. She resumed her trek to the kitchen, washed her hands, then opened the fridge and considered the contents. A sandwich didn’t really appeal to her. She checked the freezer. Smiled. Ice cream would definitely hit the spot.
Chocolate. Edward always stocked her favorite snacks whenever she was in town. She set the container on the counter and searched for a bowl and scoop. When she’d found what she needed, she heaped a generous portion into her bowl.
She grabbed a spoon and started out of the room but noticed she had dribbled ice cream on the granite counter.
“Paper towel,” she mumbled as she scanned the kitchen counters. By the sink, of course. She wet the paper towel and cleaned up her mess.
Munching on her ice cream, she padded back to the entry hall. Some reading might help her get back to sleep. Something mundane and clinical.
She shuffled to the library and switched on the light. A smile touched her lips. Books, books, and more books. All around the room. Still nibbling on her ice cream, she drifted around the room, scanning titles.
Electric Wiring for Dummies. She laughed, shook her head. Not quite that mundane.Compost Gardening. “I don’t think so,” she mumbled.
By the time she’d made it around the room, she’d decided that she was too tired to read. She reached for the switch at the door, but then wandered back to Edward’s chair to look at the selections he had set aside.
