Page 66 of Over the Edge

Losing your grip on a container of pasta and sending the tiny shells flying every direction could happen to anyone. That was a one-off. But dropping the whole batch of take-home menu sheets while handing them out to the class? And the worry etched in Dara’s features?

She was seriously stressed.

“Let me help you.” Lindsey crossed to her and bent down, gathering up the wayward papers.

“I’m sorry.” Dara kept her chin down as she issued the tear-laced apology. “I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

“Of course you should. Can you stay for a few minutes afterward? I have tea in my satchel. There’s nothing more soothing than a cup of peppermint tea after a rough day.”

“I don’t know.” She bit her bottom lip. “Chad will be worried if I’m late.”

“Why don’t you call him? I’ll be happy to walk you to your car if he’s concerned about your safety.”

“I guess I could do that.” She motioned toward the papers Lindsey had collected. “I’ll finish passing those out.”

Ten minutes later, after the rest of the class had departed, Lindsey dug out two bags of tea from her satchel and held them up. “The perfect antidote to stress. I could use a cup myself.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind staying late?”

“Not at all.” She pulled mugs from the cabinet, filled them with water, and motioned to a pair of stools against the wall. “Why don’t you move those over to the prep island and I’ll join you as soon as the tea is ready?”

Dara complied, but she remained standing as she angled away and spoke in a low voice on her cell, the staccato tap of her foot another indication of her anxiety.

At thebingfrom the microwave, Lindsey removed the mugs, circled the island, and claimed a stool. She smiled as Dara ended the call. “Chad okay with the delay?”

“Yes.” The other woman perched on the edge of the adjacent seat and gripped her mug with both hands.

Taking a sip of tea, Lindsey appraised her over the rim of her mug.

Had law enforcement—in the person of Jack Tucker—paid the newlyweds another call? Was that why Dara was upset? Or was this residual anxiety from his Sunday visit?

Whatever the cause, would a sympathetic ear help her decompress?

Only one way to find out.

“I’ve been wondering how you and Chad are doing.” Lindsey chose her words with care, maintaining a conversational tone. “For me, it’s been tough ever since the Robertson murder. I’ve been super frazzled. It doesn’t help that the police haven’t solved the crime yet, either.”

“I know.” Dara tucked her hair behind her ear and stared into the reddish-brown brew. “Have the cops been bothering you much?”

“On and off. I remembered one detail about the killer, and they’re hoping I’ll remember more.” No reason to mention the bizarre lake incident that had prompted her latest interaction with law enforcement.

“They’ve been bugging us too. The main detective came by on Sunday.”

Lindsey kept her manner nonchalant. “Why?”

Fingers trembling, Dara lifted the cup. “I think they still suspect Chad.”

“Without evidence, suspicions won’t amount to anything.”

Dara swallowed. “They have some evidence. But it’s all circumstantial.”

That was news.

“I don’t think circumstantial evidence would give them sufficient grounds to press charges, if that’s worrying you.”

“I hope not. But all the attention is making our life pretty miserable.” Her voice caught, and she dipped her head.

Pressure built in Lindsey’s throat, and she touched Dara’s shoulder. “What does Chad say about all this?”

---