spare bedroom and do mine just like this. I could even have a special shelf for my clipboards!
Wandering around the bedroom nothing seems out of place to me. I idly wander into the connecting bathroom but the countertops are pretty bare, probably because she took most of her toiletries with her to the Inn.
One of the drawers is slightly ajar, and I look over my shoulder to make sure Ben can’t see before I take out my pen from my purse and inch it open. I’m not technically touching anything. My pen is.
My eyes go wide as I see what is sitting on the top of the drawer.
Samantha took a pregnancy test?
I step back as what this means sinks in. That must be it! That must be who killed her. Maybe she went to the father, told him about the pregnancy, and he couldn’t handle it. I shake my head, trying to comprehend how anyone could kill someone because they don’t want to be a father.
But, what if he was married to someone else?
I open my mouth to call for Ben, but stop when I see something poking out from underneath the pregnancy test box.
I take the tip of my pen and gently nudge the box to the side.
Oh my God.
Forgetting all about disturbing any evidence I pick it up and quickly close the drawer as I hear Ben’s footsteps approaching. I shove it down deep inside my coat pocket and turn just as he enters the bathroom.
“Got anything?” he asks.
“Nope,” I say, trying to make my face neutral.
“Me neither,” he says and studies me from under his lashes. “You okay?”
“Fine. It’s just a bit... umm... unnerving being here. In her home,” I say. “Can we go home now?”
“Sure,” he says, still studying me.
I give him a quick smile before squeezing past him in the doorway and walking to the front door.
“Maybe I should drive home?” Ben asks and I don’t even attempt to argue with him. To be honest I’m not sure if I could drive at this point.
I hand him my keys and get into the passenger side, putting on my seat belt.
He keeps shooting me glances the whole way home but thankfully doesn’t say much. We make most of the journey in silence which I am very grateful for. I have a lot to think about, starting with why Greg’s business card was in Samantha’s bathroom drawer.
Nine
I am a criminal. There is no use in trying to sugar coat it. I stole evidence from a crime scene (which is currently in my underwear drawer because I couldn’t think of one other place I know no one will look), which basically makes me a wanted fugitive.
I have no idea why I took it to begin with. It was a knee jerk reaction, and a part of me really wants to go and steal that key from Ben’s pocket so I can just put the card back in Samantha’s bathroom and let someone else figure it out. But how could I do that to Greg? I don’t even know what the card means.
It probably means nothing, in which case, I really did do the right thing. Ben already has it out for Greg, and if he saw that card he wouldn’t leave it alone. He wouldn’t forget about it. It would consume his attention. Trust me, I know.
“Come on, Maggie,” I say, trying to pull her away from a fire hydrant she has been inspecting for the last fifteen minutes. “Mommy has to get back to work.”
The dog stubbornly refuses to move. I thought I read somewhere that dogs are used in therapy to help relieve people’s anxiety and stress.
Honestly, I think this dog might be my undoing.
“Come on!” I say and lean my whole weight against the leash, trying to pull Maggie away from the hydrant.
Great, not only do I have barely any breasts or a butt, but a poodle weighs more than me. There is just no justice.
“You know, I once had a bitch like that,” Mr. Phelps says from behind me. I slowly stand up straight again as I take in the little man standing behind me. I don’t think I have ever seen Mr. Phelps not hunched over, even when I was a little girl he
Wandering around the bedroom nothing seems out of place to me. I idly wander into the connecting bathroom but the countertops are pretty bare, probably because she took most of her toiletries with her to the Inn.
One of the drawers is slightly ajar, and I look over my shoulder to make sure Ben can’t see before I take out my pen from my purse and inch it open. I’m not technically touching anything. My pen is.
My eyes go wide as I see what is sitting on the top of the drawer.
Samantha took a pregnancy test?
I step back as what this means sinks in. That must be it! That must be who killed her. Maybe she went to the father, told him about the pregnancy, and he couldn’t handle it. I shake my head, trying to comprehend how anyone could kill someone because they don’t want to be a father.
But, what if he was married to someone else?
I open my mouth to call for Ben, but stop when I see something poking out from underneath the pregnancy test box.
I take the tip of my pen and gently nudge the box to the side.
Oh my God.
Forgetting all about disturbing any evidence I pick it up and quickly close the drawer as I hear Ben’s footsteps approaching. I shove it down deep inside my coat pocket and turn just as he enters the bathroom.
“Got anything?” he asks.
“Nope,” I say, trying to make my face neutral.
“Me neither,” he says and studies me from under his lashes. “You okay?”
“Fine. It’s just a bit... umm... unnerving being here. In her home,” I say. “Can we go home now?”
“Sure,” he says, still studying me.
I give him a quick smile before squeezing past him in the doorway and walking to the front door.
“Maybe I should drive home?” Ben asks and I don’t even attempt to argue with him. To be honest I’m not sure if I could drive at this point.
I hand him my keys and get into the passenger side, putting on my seat belt.
He keeps shooting me glances the whole way home but thankfully doesn’t say much. We make most of the journey in silence which I am very grateful for. I have a lot to think about, starting with why Greg’s business card was in Samantha’s bathroom drawer.
Nine
I am a criminal. There is no use in trying to sugar coat it. I stole evidence from a crime scene (which is currently in my underwear drawer because I couldn’t think of one other place I know no one will look), which basically makes me a wanted fugitive.
I have no idea why I took it to begin with. It was a knee jerk reaction, and a part of me really wants to go and steal that key from Ben’s pocket so I can just put the card back in Samantha’s bathroom and let someone else figure it out. But how could I do that to Greg? I don’t even know what the card means.
It probably means nothing, in which case, I really did do the right thing. Ben already has it out for Greg, and if he saw that card he wouldn’t leave it alone. He wouldn’t forget about it. It would consume his attention. Trust me, I know.
“Come on, Maggie,” I say, trying to pull her away from a fire hydrant she has been inspecting for the last fifteen minutes. “Mommy has to get back to work.”
The dog stubbornly refuses to move. I thought I read somewhere that dogs are used in therapy to help relieve people’s anxiety and stress.
Honestly, I think this dog might be my undoing.
“Come on!” I say and lean my whole weight against the leash, trying to pull Maggie away from the hydrant.
Great, not only do I have barely any breasts or a butt, but a poodle weighs more than me. There is just no justice.
“You know, I once had a bitch like that,” Mr. Phelps says from behind me. I slowly stand up straight again as I take in the little man standing behind me. I don’t think I have ever seen Mr. Phelps not hunched over, even when I was a little girl he
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