Page 77 of Murder Road

I turned in my seat and looked out the back window. Was that a police car a few cars back? It was hard to tell. Was it a coincidence, or was the Coldlake Falls PD keeping tabs on Eddie and me? Had Kal made a report about seeing us in Midland? It was likely that John Haller had come home by now from wherever he’d been. He would see the removed back screen and he’d know that his home had been broken into. If he called the police in Midland, that wouldn’t necessarily connect to us in Coldlake Falls.

“Stop thinking, April,” Eddie said. “Everything is going to be fine.”

I gave a bitter laugh at that. “There was a police car behind us,” was my reply. “It just made a left.”

“Then it wasn’t following us. We aren’t doing anything wrong. We just have to find a way to get this done quick.”

I turned back around, but I kept looking in my rearview mirror. Cold sweat was sticky on the back of my neck. I was starting to panic. I never panicked—never.

And then I saw it in a parking lot up ahead—a familiar car. Blue and brand-new, gleaming in the late-afternoon sun.

“Turn right,” I told Eddie, pointing.

He saw the car, too, and for a second he hesitated. Then he signaled and pulled into the lot, parking a few cars away from Beatrice Snell’s shiny new car.

A minute later, Beatrice came out of the drugstore, carrying a small bag. She was wearing jean shorts, a camisole, and a black vest. Her hair was twisted on top of her head and she wore her silver sunglasses. Without seeming to notice us, she unlocked her car and got in.

I glanced back at the street, looking for another police car. I was probably being paranoid. Still, my hand was icy as I pulled the handle to get out of the car. I walked briskly to Beatrice’s car, which she hadn’t started yet. I could see through the window that she had taken a tube of lipstick from her shopping bag and was putting it on, looking at herself in her rearview mirror.

The sound of the driver’s door slamming behind me was my only indication that Eddie was following me. I opened Beatrice’s car door and slid into her back seat. Eddie opened the other door and slid in, too.

In the front seat, Beatrice went still, her lipstick in midair. She pushed her sunglasses up, watched us get into her car, and her eyes went wide.

“Hi,” I said.

Beatrice twisted in her seat to look at us. Her expression was surprised, and then it warmed into a big smile. Her lips were cherry red.

Something about that smile made the tension ease from my temples for the first time in hours. I couldn’t have said why.

“Mr.and Mrs.Carter,” Beatrice said. “It’s so nice to see you. What are we up to? Whatever we’re doing, I’m in.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

I’m not saying you’re being followed by the police,” Beatrice Snell said. “But then again, I’m also not not saying it.”

“They could have put a tracking device on your car,” Gracie said. “It isn’t that hard to do. It gives off a radio signal. You were smart to come to us.”

We had picked up Gracie at the movie theater as she came out of an afternoon showing of Dolores Claiborne. (“Not bad,” was Gracie’s succinct review.) As we drove, I talked.

I told them everything—about the encounter with Shannon Haller’s ghost on Atticus Line, about going to John Haller’s house, about Kal seeing us there, about breaking in. As I spoke, Eddie stayed silent.

The Snell sisters listened intently to everything I said as Beatrice drove through Coldlake Falls, making random left and right turns. Then we started talking about what to do.

“Okay,” Gracie said. “So you have this roll of film, right?”

I looked at Eddie. He spoke for the first time. “I have it.”

“And we don’t know what’s on it.”

“It could be nothing,” Beatrice said. She had put her sunglasses back on and was frowning as she drove. I hadn’t told them that Eddie believed that Shannon Haller might be in his head, but both sisters had accepted without question that we’d broken the law to steal a roll of film, as if it seemed logical to them. “What would Shannon have left behind on film that we need to see? If she was leaving home, she would have taken everything important with her.”

“Well, we won’t know until we develop it,” Gracie said. “Maybe it’s like the Zapruder film.”

“Where should we get it developed?” Beatrice asked.

“I was looking for a one-hour photo place,” Eddie said.

Gracie clucked her tongue. “The only one I know of is Bickle’s Photo.” She checked her watch, a thin band on her narrow wrist. “It closes in ten minutes.”

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