Page 21 of Her Dying Secret

“Of course,” Rebecca agreed.

Josie inched away from the table and toward the doorway that connected the kitchen to the living room. Jon sat in a rocking chair in front of a dormant fireplace, pushing the chair to its limits until the floor groaned.

Gretchen continued, “Mrs. Lee, we’re going to need a list of all commercial trucks that come and go from here regularly, their reason for being here, and their owners.”

“Commercial trucks?” Rebecca echoed.

Hummel had taken one look at the larger tracks leading to the produce stand and declared that the treads definitely belonged to a commercial vehicle. Casts of the tracks would have to confirm it but Josie would bet a month’s pay that Hummel was right. “We found tire tracks near the produce stand,” she explained. “We believe that they’re from a commercial truck. Our team will compare them to the trucks that you and your husband own, but we’ll still need a list of any commercial vehicles that regularly come and go from here and that may have been here today.”

Rebecca’s brow furrowed. “There were no trucks here today—other than our own.”

“We’ll still need that list,” Gretchen pressed.

“I’m happy to provide it,” Rebecca answered. “Though I’m not sure what help it will be.”

Josie asked, “Is there a man who drives a white box truck who delivers or picks up supplies here? Or who regularly visits the produce stand?”

She relayed the description they’d gotten from Todd Stapleton, including the diamond-shaped scar. Gretchen found the drawing Todd made in her notebook and showed it to Rebecca.

Rebecca’s hands clenched the teacup until her knuckles went white. “I’ve never seen anyone like that here. Are you saying this man was there today? That he was driving a white box truck? The produce stand isn’t even stocked right now. Why would anyone be there?”

From her peripheral vision, Josie noted that Jon had stopped rocking. “We have reason to believe that Mira had been meeting a man in a white box truck at the produce stand. We don’t know for sure, but given their past meetings, it’s possible they met there today.”

Heavy feet trudged back into the kitchen. Jon stood in the doorway, looking stricken as he stared at his wife. Some silent communication raged between them. Rebecca’s eyes narrowed until she was glowering at her husband. “Jon,” she said. His name was a question that only he understood.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Can I see the drawing of the scar?”

Gretchen walked over and showed it to him.

Rebecca watched him carefully. “Jon?”

Looking up from Gretchen’s notebook, he held his arms out, palms up, as if to show her they were empty. “I don’t know for sure.”

“Don’t know what for sure?” Josie asked.

Rebecca pushed her teacup away so violently that it flipped onto its side, spilling what was left of its contents across the search warrant. Her tone was razor-sharp. “You promised, Jon.”

Gretchen arched a brow. “It would be really helpful if you could tell us what’s going on. We’ve already had two stabbing victims today, one of whom did not make it, and we’re concerned there could be a child at risk.”

Rebecca’s rancor faded a bit, her face softening. “It can’t be Seth then. He doesn’t have children. I don’t even think he knows anyone with children.”

Jon didn’t look quite as relieved, but he nodded.

Josie said, “Who is Seth?”

“My brother,” Jon answered.

FIFTEEN

“Rebecca’s right, though,” Jon added. “He doesn’t have children, but he does have a scar just like you described on his upper arm. It was from when he?—”

Jon broke off mid-sentence, looking at his wife, as if waiting for her to throw some sort of lifeline. She offered none. He opened his mouth as if he was about to continue but then clamped it shut again.

“Mr. Lee?” Josie prompted.

With a sigh, Rebecca stood up and went to the counter for some paper towels. “Really, Jon. Just tell them.”

Still, he said nothing. Finally, Gretchen said, “Let’s just get some basic information for now. You two have the same last name?”

---