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I nodded toward the dark house. “Is anyone home? There’s no lights on inside.”
Her head turned toward the window. “Oh.” She glanced down at her hands wringing in her lap. “My mom’s home. She takes her medication in the evenings and it makes her drowsy, so she’s always asleep early.”
Her mother.
I hadn’t confronted Winnie Meadows about the whole situation with the possible insurance fraud, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t been working on it. I wasn’t working this case officially, but I couldn’t let it go if she was getting away lying to her daughter. Between the long hours I put into Lily Baker’s case, I was asking around town about Miss Winnie. She didn’t get out a lot, but after enough questions to the right people, I’d learned that she’d been seen out and about sometimes…when Lark was working at the Flutter Nook. Winnie had been seen at Callie’s Tavern, of all places, and the convenience store nearby on multiple occasions. She even hit up the thrift store sometimes or the grocery mart.
It continued to look worse for her case, but I wanted to confront her directly. I wanted her to admit it with her own mouth that she was lying.
“How is your mom doing? Is she feeling better?”
Lark lifted a shoulder, her words coming out slow and lifeless. “She’s…about the same, I guess. She still has migraines and pain in her ankle.”
All things that couldn’t exactly be substantiated. “How long does she have to wear that boot?”
“I’m not sure. She gets frustrated if I ask a lot of questions. It’s only been a few weeks since the accident, so I’m letting her take things slow.”
I pressed my lips together. “I see.”
Lark reached for the door handle, and the sudden thought of her leaving and going off into that dark house had panic jolting through me. I grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Wait.”
Lark stilled, her eyes seeking mine. Her eyebrows narrowed.
“Uh,” I stammered, thinking of what I wanted to say. “I haven’t even asked how you’re doing. I mean, after all that craziness. Are you all right?”
Her teeth caught on the edge of her lower lip. “I’m fine.”
I didn’t believe her. Her eyes were flat and dull, her face pale. When was she going to start trusting me enough to tell me the truth? When was I finally going to earn it?
“Well,” I said slowly, “you’re a stronger person than I am, then.”
She shook her head. “I’m just…tired.”
My gaze flitted to the house again and back to her. “Do you mind if I come inside?” I needed to make sure she got settled in safely.
“You don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”
“Can I at least use your restroom?” I didn’t have to use the restroom, but I couldn’t leave her right now. Knowing that she’d be safe was the only thing that would chase away the shadows threatening to drown me.
“Oh,” she said. “Sorry. Of course you can.”
Relief washed over me, and I gave her a smile as she opened the door and hopped out. I was right behind her, hunching against the cold night breeze that rustled what remained of the dry leaves clinging to the tree branches.
Lark wouldn’t look at me. When she unlocked the door and we stepped inside, I smiled at her, but she didn’t meet my eye as she flipped on the living room light and mumbled, “Do you remember where the restroom is?”
“Yeah, I remember.” I wanted to reach out for her, to feel the warmth of her, but she had walked away too quickly.
“Make yourself at home,” she said, but her voice was dull and monotone as she walked to the kitchen.
I lingered in the living room. No matter what Lark claimed, there was no way she was okay. The things Jake said to her, especially after the interview and reliving so much of that night…something was off.
Lark rummaged through the kitchen cabinets, taking out some cups and boxes of tea. “You like peppermint, don’t you?” she asked from over her shoulder.
My feet took me toward her. “Yeah, I like peppermint.”
She nodded and continued opening up seemingly random drawers and cabinet doors until she found a tea kettle. I wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to make me tea, but I didn’t. Sometimes people needed to focus on a mundane task so they didn’t have to think about what was actually bothering them.
“Lark,” I started, but she dropped the tea kettle in the sink with a loud crash and cut me off.
