Page 54 of You Know Why

“Yeah. It’s Andrew Locke’s. I put it back into position so you could see how I found it.”

“No kidding? This has all been photographed, right?”

“Yeah. I took multiple shots. You’re clear to move it.”

Theresa picks up the passport and flips to the second page. Andrew Locke’s face stares up at her. Other than the beginnings of a beard, he looks just like he did leaving the airport. It’s current; the issue date for the passport is from last year.

She heaves out a sigh. Oh, Andrew. What have you done?

“Well, that makes things worse, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. Evidence lifted a couple of prints and got a hair off the rope that didn’t belong to the Lockes.”

“How do you know?”

“Blond. They’re both dark haired. Could be the maid.”

Could be the asshole from my kitchen, too. “More people expiring prematurely”—that threat feels different now.

“Be careful with it. I want you to hand carry it to the lab. With all the jurisdictions involved, we can’t run the risk of the evidence being contaminated or going missing. Chain of custody is sacrosanct, okay?”

“Copy that.” He looks over his shoulder at the garage. “Pretty horrible.”

“Yeah. It is. If you need to talk to someone, I’ll arrange it. We’re all going to need counseling after this one.”

When her phone rings an hour later, and she sees Eden’s number, she takes a deep breath and braces herself for the terrible tidings she’s been expecting since the accident. But she is mistaken . . . and this feels like the first break she’s gotten.

“Wonderful news,” Eden trills. “Brooklyn made it through the night. She’s going to be okay.”

So Far from Safe

Eden

Everything changes when the news about Andrew’s parents breaks. Security outside the hospital triples. We’re told they are a combination of GBI and FBI and are there to keep us safe. I send a note of thanks to Theresa and ask her to call me as soon as she can. When I hear nothing, I call but get her voicemail.

The hospital TVs blare the story on a loop. Andrew’s face is plastered on the screen, showing over and over. His new face. The new Andrew. The missing man from our lives.

It’s sexy, this story. A wife hit by a car, the parents murdered, a husband on the run.

Why would he kill his parents, though? I can’t understand the motivation there. They were sweet, kind, generous people. The whole town loved them. I loved them. They were so gentle with me when I lost Mom and Dad. Without hesitating, they took over for them when they passed away.

They’d lost their daughter-in-law. They’d lost their son. When Andrew abandoned them, he left all of us. And they had nothing left but me. Our bond was born in blood—the blood of my sister, killed by their son’s hand. They never wavered in their support. And they made sure to take good care of that relationship.

When my parents died, Lucy came and sat with me, chatting, cleaning, keeping me company, even spending the night a few times a week so I wouldn’t have to be all alone. Andy showed his love through food, grilling for me, and making sure the refrigerator was always stocked. Even after I moved to Atlanta and took the job with the airline, they continued to reach out to me every week to check in. They sent cards on every holiday and birthday. They invited me home for Sunday dinner. Unlike so many whose attentions faded over time, theirs never waned. I appreciated them more than they knew.

Their loss is almost as hard as the loss of my sister and my parents. It doesn’t feel real. I have to stop myself from getting in the car and driving home to visit the crime scene for myself. But I know that’s not a good idea. PTSD is a real thing. Who knows what seeing their blood spilled might trigger? There will be time enough. I know I’m a beneficiary in their wills. I will have to play a role in the future. But not today.

Instead, I call Theresa again, who sends me directly to voicemail four times in a row. Finally, she calls back.

“Are you okay?” she asks, true sympathy in her voice. She’s outside; I can hear the wind whistling through the trees. I’d recognize that sound anywhere. She’s in Malogen, on the hill overlooking town, probably the Lockes’ driveway or farther up, near the fire tower.

“No. I’m at the hospital with Margot and the kids, and I just saw the news. What happened? Are we safe? There are FBI agents here, but they won’t talk to me.”

“One thing at a time. No, we don’t know yet for sure what happened, nor who is responsible. But Eden, I need you to be on the lookout. Anyone who feels wrong, you get as far away as you can and call me.”

“They’re saying Andrew is a suspect in his parents’ murder. Why would he go to Malogen and kill his parents? What is he trying to hide? What did they know?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”