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“Not officially,” he answered. “You could try approaching her from the street to see if she’d talk to you, but you’d run the risk of pissing off her husband.”
“Ugh. I think I know what happened, but no proof.”
“What’s your theory?”
“Ginger got pregnant with Brent Smith’s baby. Julie Hsu, Brent’s girlfriend, and his sister Lisa were there at the house when the birth took place. Either the baby was born dead or she was placed in the attic to die up there alone right after her birth. It would have been difficult for a woman who had just given birth to get up a ladder and place the kid in the attic.”
“What makes you think the baby was born in your cottage?” Jake asked.
I thought about something else that had bothered me: there was no sign of a diaper. Only the blanket, the dress, and the little lacy socks. Like Lisa said, those items could have been wrapped up in the blanket with the baby. If the baby was born alive somewhere else and transported to the cottage, wouldn’t there be more evidence? More blankets, a diaper, an undershirt? No. I think she was born right here, and right after the birth, she was wrapped up and stuck in the attic, either already dead or left to die.
“In old cases like this, usually the only way to solve it is by confession.”
“I doubt if the DA is going to allow her to confess.”
“You’re probably right.”
We theorized a bit more before saying goodbye. I looked at the time. Will would be home soon. He’d arranged for dinner most of last week, so I decided to bite the bullet and break in my new kitchen. I’d heat up leftovers he’d brought home the night before.
With spaghetti in one container and eggplant parm in the other, I was set for another night. I had just placed dishes on the kitchen table when my phone rang yet again. It was Alan Stone.
“What did you find out?” I asked.
“Well, you’re not going to believe this. I just arranged to have Lisa, Pam, and Julie meet me at the coffee shop so I can talk to them together, but I won’t ask you to join us.”
“Thank you,” I said, grimacing. A coffee date with that group to discuss the baby skeleton did not appeal to me. “What’s going on?”
“I just heard Ginger Harrow took her own life.”
I reached for a chair and fell into it. Shock doesn’t cover what I was feeling. Why had she done it? I felt responsible. Me and Pam. We’d dug around in the baby’s attic tomb, uncovering something that was better off left alone, and now a young woman, just a few years older than me, had taken her own life over the loss.
“It’s an admission of guilt,” Alan said.
“No, it’s not,” I cried. “It’s an admission of heartbreak, for sure. But guilt? I don’t think so.”
I was sure Julie Hsu, or maybe Lisa, were guilty of letting the baby die, at the very least. Julie, because she had been enraged over her boyfriend having sex with Ginger Harrow, or Lisa, trying to protect her brother. There was definitely something darker at play.
“Alan, did you get a chance to talk to Julie about it?”
“She refused to discuss it. And now that Ginger is dead, I doubt the case will go any further.”
I didn’t want to talk to Alan anymore, so I said goodbye. All I wanted was to tell Will. When he came home from work, it took all the self-control I had to allow him to shower and change into sweats before I told him.
When he came out of the bedroom, I was ready with a glass of wine and a story. I told him what Alan Stone had said, and it surprised Will, too.
“I wish I was a fly on the wall of the coffee shop where Detective Stone is meeting the women,” he said. “Someone is getting away with murder.”
“It just occurred to me that it could have been Brent Smith, too. He could have taken a baby up in the attic to hide to protect his own skin.” I reached for a tissue and blew my nose. “I feel so bad about Ginger Harrow. I can’t explain it.”
“I understand. It’s grief upon grief. You’ve had a lot this year.”
“What about poor Pam?”
“Well, she has you, Laura. You’re her last attachment to Randy.”
The incidents of the past year came cascading down—the TV series and having to deal with Ryan, Yasmine and her parents, Myrla, losing Randy, and the baby skeleton. If I wasn’t careful, the unrelated events would overshadow the wonderful things that had happened.
I had met my father and his new family. If Ryan was also mixed in, I’d deal with it. And the cottage. I loved my little cottage on the beach. But most of all, Will.
