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NINE
Melissa led them to a formal living room. The walls were a soft cream, the furniture white. The only splashes of color were two throw pillows and a vase—all in a shade of teal that resembled the crest of a wave just before it turned over to a whitecap.
Melissa lowered herself onto the couch, and Amanda and Trent picked chairs opposite her.
“Is your husband home?” Amanda asked. Melissa’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t taking kindly to the implication that her husband should be present. But once this woman heard of her daughter’s murder, she’d be inconsolable. The tough and mighty always fell the hardest, and death was certainly the great equalizer.
“He’s not, but I am. Please go ahead with what you’ve come to say.” Melissa still showed no cracks in her demeanor, even though her mind must have been going crazy with curiosity and worry, knowing they were there about Chloe.
“Would you be able to call him now and ask that he come home?” Amanda put it out there as gently and respectfully as possible.
Melissa held Amanda’s gaze for a few seconds and then reached into the pocket of her slacks and pulled out a cell phone. “What should I tell him is the reason for the interruption to his day?”
“Just tell him the police are here.” That should be more than sufficient.
Melissa’s eyes widened slightly, and in that instant, panic flashed across them. Perhaps it was the worst-case scenario finally playing out in her mind. She placed the call. “You need to come home… Yes, I realize you’re busy, but the police are here… Something to do with Chloe. That’s all I know. I guess they’re waiting for you to be here before they tell me what this is all about?” The last sentence nested a question, and the woman peered at Amanda as if searching for that answer.
Amanda nodded.
A few seconds later, Melissa hung up. “He’s in town for a meeting and shouldn’t be longer than fifteen minutes. Are you really not going to tell me anything until he arrives?”
“It’s best that we wait for him.” A preference and a courtesy that wouldn’t have the husband hearing the news second-hand from his wife. One convenience for her and Trent was they didn’t have to wait for the man to come from his office in Manassas.
Melissa rubbed her arms, indicating that worry was starting to wear on her.
“Could I make you tea or coffee?” Amanda offered.
“Tamara can make it for us.” Melissa picked up a small brass bell that sat on the table next to her and jangled it.
“Yes, ma’am.” A woman of fifty-something stepped inside the doorway. She was wearing a black and white uniform. The Somner household was certainly one that stood on formality.
“Make some tea, would you?” Melissa splayed a hand over the space as if to indicate Amanda and Trent. “Also, do bring out some cranberry tea biscuits.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tamara left the room. The two words were probably the extent of her vocabulary in this household.
Melissa sat back and crossed her legs. “It is puzzling that we need to wait for Mitch.” Tenacious and stubborn. Proud. A nudge to have Amanda or Trent explain their reason for being there.
“You should both be present for what we have to say,” Amanda said.
“You speak as if something tragic has happened, like someone died.” Spoken off the cuff, but as the words came out her chin quivered as if the reality was now sinking in. The woman knew. “My Chloe? She’s… ah… she’s…”
“Ma’am, please. Let’s just wait for your husband.”
“Oh my God. She is dead!” She sank into the couch, her body shrinking into itself.
“We’ll tell you everything once your hus—”
The front door was thrust open, and Mitch stormed into the room with another man next to him. He barely acknowledged his wife and addressed Amanda and Trent.
“This is my lawyer,” he said, gesturing to the man. “Whatever you’re here to do or say goes through him. Do we have an understanding?”
Amanda nodded solemnly. It would seem the Somners—or at least Mitch—had something to hide. “I assure you, however, that the lawyer won’t be necessary.” Or shouldn’t be, unless you killed your daughter. And did the guy travel around with his lawyer in his backseat? How did he get there so fast? Maybe the attorney was the appointment Mitch had in town.
“Don’t tell me what’s necessary.” Mitch waved a finger in her face.
“Mitch, take a seat.” Melissa’s voice was small, and she was staring at the area rug.
His brow furrowed, and he did a double take at his wife, as if confused by her timidity.
Tamara entered the room carrying a silver tray loaded with a teapot, teacups, sugar, milk, and cream. There was even a small plate of biscuits, as requested by her employer. Tamara’s cheeks blushed, and she backed out of the room with, “I’ll get two more teacups, sir.”
“Don’t bother. They’re leaving.”
“Dear God, Mitch. Sit.” This time, Melissa’s tone was firm, and Mitch’s shoulders slumped.
He sat down in a chair across the room. The lawyer remained standing and tucked into a corner.
“So, what is this about?” Mitch pushed out.
Amanda let a few seconds pass with only the ticking of a clock. The Somners were watching her, blinking dramatically. It was time. “We’re here about your daughter, Chloe,” Amanda began.
“Dear God…” Melissa ran her palms over her thighs, appearing to smooth her pant legs, but Amanda read it more as the woman seeking a distraction and bracing herself for what was coming.
“Chloe was found murdered this morning in Leesylvania State Park.” Always best to get to the point.
