Page 102 of Skeletons in the Closet

“Latte.” He shifted with evident discomfort. “Cinnamon and brown sugar-flavored. Turkey sandwich. Peanut butter cookie.” More shifting. “I figure you haven’t eaten.”

I stared at the offering, then at Diem. A flush ran up his neck, but he still wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “About yesterday.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I was too pushy and didn’t respect your boundaries. Thank you for this.” I held up the food and latte.

“I thought you might be hungry.”

“I am.” The bowl of soup I’d had at lunch was long gone from my system, and I hadn’t had a coffee since pre-migraine. I was more than ready to indulge.

Diem grabbed the keys by the door, and I followed him down the hall to the stairwell. He drove us to campus while I ate. I offered him half the sandwich, which he turned down, mumbling that he’d already had one.

But he did take a piece of the cookie, which made me smile.

“Kitty says hi.”

“Oh.”

I chuckled. “Since she’s a certified witch, I called her to see what she knew about Shore’s arrest. She says they found a bloody rag stowed in his car. It was a match to the Roan kid who died in 2010. Can you believe that?”

Diem kept switching his attention from me to the road, watching traffic but clearly interested in what I had to say.

“That’s not all. They found two types of blood on the rag.”

“Who the fuck keeps a bloody rag in their car after committing a crime?”

“I don’t know. David Shore? It was under the floor panel in the trunk. I assume he hid it there in a panic, meant to get rid of it, and forgot.”

“He forgot?”

“I don’t know, D. I’m telling you what they found. They haven’t identified the other blood.”

“Christ, if you kill someone with your car, get rid of the fucking evidence. It was over ten years ago. Did he not have time? Idiot should have had it detailed.”

“Or sold.”

“What a moron.” Diem shook his head.

“I put an inquiry to the MTO for a history on the vehicle. I’m guessing he would have likely needed repairs done on it after the accident. I’m sure Doyle’s already done that, but I wanted to know.”

Diem grunted, still seemingly stuck on the idiocy of some criminals.

We arrived at the university a few minutes before seven. Diem encouraged me to finish my food, and we wandered to where Natalia Shore’s last class was taking place. The foyer outside the lecture hall was quiet, and I could make out the faint sounds of a seminar within. I didn’t miss college. I didn’t miss late nights studying.

“What are we asking exactly?” I wondered aloud.

“I want to know if the names Beth, Olivia, or Noah are familiar. I have pictures of all three. If Natalia’s been keeping tabs on her husband, she may have come across them and not known who they were or how they connected.”

“And we’re pretty confident they knew about Shore’s crime?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Have you talked to Faye?”

“Not in the last few days. Not since this went from affair to murder. I don’t think her husband was cheating.”

“Neither do I, but he had much darker secrets.” Remembering my searches from that afternoon, I added, “By the way, he and Beth dated in university. I found pictures of them online. All three of them attended parties together. I think they were close friends. Noah was a jock. Sports guy. Competitive. The girls were pretty and probably popular.”

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