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His mother, however, looked white as a sheet. “The letter opener?”
“We tested for blood then and now and found nothing. But now we’ve recovered the body, we can determine if it fits the description for the murder object.” The detective paused and scrutinized her expression. “Are you familiar with the opener?”
She put her hand to her throat and nodded. “It was a gift. I—I gave it to him.”
Detective Johnson looked at her another beat and scrawled something in his notebook.
Was the fact the murderer had used the letter opener a coincidence? Or did it mean something more? Sam raked his hand through his hair as he pondered it. Thank God his mother had an alibi.
“If you, your mother, or Ms. McBride remember or come across anything that may be useful, be sure to give me a call.”
“Of course. Perhaps you can answer a question for me, Detective. How did you make the connection between the letters and my mother?”
“We received an anonymous tip Friday night. The woman claimed to know Elizabeth Fratto wrote the letters and believed she may have been the one who killed Jackson Williams after the fallout when he broke things off. But the lead on your mother seemed so farfetched that it wasn’t until I followed up on my other leads that I was able to get out here to follow up.”
Sam nodded. “Thanks.” Friday night. The same night he’d told Allie who “E” was.
Ever the gracious hostess, his mom escorted the detective to the door. When it shut behind him, she looked at Sam, who was fighting the urge to slam a fist into something.
Why would Allie do it? And then tell him she hadn’t? The facts told him she was the likely culprit…but his gut—no, his heart—was telling him something else.
Doubt niggled at him. But who else could it possibly be?
His mother’s voice pulled him from the frustration raging inside him. “I know you probably have some questions for me, and there are some things we need to discuss. But maybe we can delay it until later? I need to rest now.”
She looked horrible, slumped back against the door, whatever strength she’d been drawing from to endure the interview drained away. He helped her up the stairs to her room, where he drew the curtains as she requested.
“Sam,” she murmured before he could close the door. “I’m sorry you heard that argument between me and your father. Remember, we always loved you. Hurting you was the last thing we wanted.”
“I know, Mom. And I love you, too. Rest now. It’s going to be okay.” She went quiet and still, lying peacefully on her bed. The rising and falling of her chest assured him she was only sleeping.
He headed downstairs to speak to Patty. He thanked her profusely for calling him as quickly as she had and made arrangements for her to prepare a light dinner she could serve his mother in bed later that evening.
Whoever had tipped off the police, fortunately, no harm had come from the revelation. Detective Johnson seemed to believe his mother was innocent. To be honest, it was like a boulder had been lifted from Sam’s chest.
But that meant there was still someone out there. Someone who’d killed Mr. Williams and thought they were going to get away with it.
Not if Sam could help it. He went to his room and dug out his laptop. In the past, outlining the beginning of his next book often helped him make connections, see the whole story, the conflict, more clearly.
That’s what he was determined to do now.
He had a killer to identify.
…
Instead of heading for a refill of coffee from the faculty lounge when she arrived at school on Monday, Allie headed directly to her classroom, a move she had planned when she filled her largest travel mug to the brim before setting out from home this morning. She couldn’t risk facing anyone right now.
Anyone meaning Sam.
She almost had called in sick. For the first time in her entire career, even including the early days of her divorce, Allie had woken up perfectly healthy…and hadn’t wanted to get out of bed.
On top of the whole Sam thing, she’d also had a big fight with her sister yesterday. Allie had made a concerned comment about her sister’s dwindling weight and suggested it might be time to kick her absent husband to the curb since he was making her so miserable. Laney had said some really hurtful things back and stormed out. They hadn’t spoken since.
So this morning, Allie had just wanted to burrow down in her comforter, wrap it around her like a cocoon, and shut out the outside world. Vi had spent another night at Ryan’s, too sick to return to school. Chelsea was watching her, so Allie didn’t have the extra pressure of getting her daughter out of bed. Only herself.
She hurried past Sam’s classroom. She needn’t have bothered. His light was off.
Instead of relief, she felt only more trepidation. He was an early riser and usually one of the first to get to sc
