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“No, of course, you’re right.” She cleared her throat. “And you’re right I should distract myself. Maybe I should go over to Madison’s mother’s house, make sure she’s okay—”
“No, don’t do that,” he interrupted. “Your doctor said you’re supposed to stay away from stress.” His footsteps echoed over the phone—he was pacing. “Can you call your therapist? She’ll be able to help you process all this.”
“She retired, that’s why I stopped going to her.” She gasped. “The other night when we were leaving the juice bar—there was a weird guy in his car. I had the strangest feeling he was watching us all leave. What if that’s the guy who killed her?”
“Did you tell Jo about that?” His tone tightened—he was worried now, too.
“I—I think I did. But even so, there’s no way they could have tracked him down this quickly if so. And that latch on the one guest bedroom window never got fixed. If there’s a killer following us, he knows where I live—”
“Right,” David said, voice firm. “I’ll come over now and fix the window. I’ll spend the night on your couch so you don’t have to worry about being alone. Tomorrow we’ll call an alarm company and have them put in some security cameras.”
“I don’t want to put you in an awkward situation,” she said, sniffling. “Sophie won’t like it.”
“Let me deal with that. I’ll see you soon.”
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Naomie sank onto the couch, stunned, tears pouring down her cheeks.
Madison was dead. Murdered.
Chelsea hadn’t been able to tell her much, and her soul screamed for answers. But at the same time, she knew the details didn’t make much difference—all that mattered was the sweet, kind girl whose life was just beginning was dead. She and her baby both snuffed out in a horrible act of wasteful cruelty.
Oh, God—Madison’s mother must be inconsolable. Losing her daughter and future grandson all in one fell swoop? And who would take care of Susan now? Naomie pulled up the contact to call her, see if she needed anything. The call went to voice mail.
Reaching past her stack of work papers—so important just moments ago, but now pallid and pointless—she grabbed her Pellegrino with a shaking hand and gulped most of it down. Her eyes wandered across the living room, over the yellow accents and paintings of flowered fields, seeing only Madison’s face.
She took a deep breath and reached for her phone. Word would spread through Beautiful Bouncing Babies quickly, and everyone would look to her to lead them through it. There were details to be seen to, and with Chelsea half-hysterical and Susan Coelho unwell, someone had to step up.
First on the list—she’d promised Chelsea she’d deliver the news to Julia so Chelsea wouldn’t have to go through it again.
Just as the call was about to beep over to voice mail, Julia answered amid the static of background objects shuffling. “Hello?”
Julia wouldn’t want her to beat around the bush, so she dove straight in. “The police found Madison murdered out in the woods.”
“Damn,” Julia said, and the background noise stopped. “Her poor mother.”
Naomie’s front door opened and closed; her husband Chris had returned from his round of golf. “She must be devastated. I tried calling her, but she’s not picking up. I’m going to drop by later and make sure she’s okay and has something to eat. We can take turns checking in on her until the worst is over.”
Julia hesitated. “She barely knows us. Will she be okay with that?”
Naomie pulled over her day planner and jotted down a quick rotation. “I’ll feel her out. But Madison was her only family, and she’s not well. If she won’t accept our help, I’ll have to contact EOEA to make sure she’s taken care of.”
“No, right. I can go over there tomorrow morning, but if she looks like she’s struggling medically, call me immediately.”
“Perfect. Then Chelsea, then me again.” Naomi scanned her scheduled events for the next few days. “I doubt Madison had life insurance, so there won’t be money for a funeral. I’m fairly certain the state will pay for cremation, but not for returning the ashes. If so, I’ll pay for that and a decent urn.”
Chris strode into the room. He stopped short as he registered the expression on her face, then mouthed, “What’s going on?”
She held up a finger to let him know she’d be a minute, ducking eye contact. “And I think we should offer to host some sort of memorial. A celebration of life or whatever she feels is appropriate.”
Chris perched on the armchair directly across from her. She kept her eyes on the day planner.
“Right,” Julia said tentatively. “There’s something I should probably come clean about.”
Naomie braced herself. “What’s that?”
“The other night at the juice bar. There wasn’t a mistake with the credit card. Pete canceled it. I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want to put you in the middle.”
