Missing Pieces by Heather Gudenkauf Page A

woman sitting on the other side of him. “See you at the office, Margaret.” Gilmore propped his hat back on his head and walked away.
    â€œYou’re Jack’s wife?” the woman asked from across the empty stool.
    â€œPardon me?” Sarah asked, still thinking about the sheriff’s inadequate response to her question.
    The woman scooted over to the stool next to Sarah. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with the sheriff. I’m Margaret Dooley, one of the dispatchers at the sheriff’s department.” She was a stout woman of around fifty with red hair.
    Sarah nodded and took a sip of her coffee. She was just about to excuse herself, anxious to get back to the articles on her phone, but Margaret continued. “Did I hear you say that you’re Jack Quinlan’s wife?” Margaret fingered the reading glasses that she wore on a chain around her neck. “I used to babysit for Jack and Amy when they were little.”
    â€œReally?” Sarah asked.
    â€œReally,” Margaret said with a pleasant smile. “I wasn’t all that much older than Jack. He must have been six and I was twelve. Amy was just a baby, maybe two.”
    â€œWhat were they like?” Sarah leaned toward Margaret, eager to know more. “God, I would have liked to have known Jack back then.”
    â€œThey were nice kids. Easiest dollar fifty an hour I ever made. All Jack wanted to do was play outside and Amy would follow him around like a puppy. She was the sweetest little thing.”
    Sarah laughed at the thought of Jack and Amy running through the tall grass together as children. Laughing and carefree, no knowledge of what one day would befall their family.
    â€œYou really don’t know what happened to Jack’s mom?”
    â€œIt’s embarrassing to admit,” Sarah said, “but I don’t know the details. For some reason he’s been less than forthcoming with me.” Sarah didn’t know why she was pouring her heart out to this stranger, but it felt right, and a weight seemed to lift from her chest.
    â€œHe’s probably just trying to protect you,” Margaret said, and pushed her empty plate aside. She checked the chunky gold watch on her wrist. “I’ve got some time before I have to go into work. We could talk.”
    The two moved to a corner booth for privacy. “I’m sorry to hear about Julia,” Margaret said soberly, her eyes filled with sympathy. “She was a nice woman.”
    â€œThanks. I’ll tell Jack you said so. It was all very sudden. I wish I would have gotten to know her better.”
    â€œYou don’t know anything about what happened to Jack’s parents?” Margaret asked.
    Sarah shook her head. “Believe me, I’ve tried talking to Jack about it. I’ve gotten nowhere. It’s like hitting a brick wall. All I know is that Jack’s mom died in the house he grew up in, that Jack found her and that his dad was wanted for questioning. That’s it. That’s all I know.”
    Margaret looked over her shoulder, and when she was sure that no one was lurking she leaned forward in the booth, the stack of brightly colored bangles on her wrist clanking together as she propped her elbows on the tabletop. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard that. There’d never been a murder in Penny Gate before. We were all shocked. My mother and Lydia Tierney were best friends. Let me tell you, she was absolutely devastated. Cried for weeks. She still isn’t over it.”
    Sarah fought the urge to hurry Margaret along in her story. She had an almost feverish gleam in her eyes and Sarah got the feeling that she enjoyed being the center of attention, of having a rapt audience.
    â€œJack came home from school one day and found his mother down in their cellar beaten to death. They searched high and low for Jack’s dad but never found him. They found his truck sitting