Page 78 of Little Shattered Dreams

“I did. I wanted to make sure she was all right.”

“And was she?”

“Not at first, but I remained by her side until she calmed down.”

“When you were at Calvin’s place, did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”

He shook his head.

“Were you ever in his bedroom or bathroom?” I asked.

“I use the laboratory right after I returned from consoling Clara.”

“Did you happen to notice anything out of place in his bedroom, or if his nightstand drawer was open?”

“It was closed. I think I would have remembered if it was hanging open.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I picked it up, looked at the Caller ID. It was Hunter. Earlier in the day, she’d told Simone there was something she’d found out. Something important. And in the craziness of the day’s events, I’d forgotten all about it.

CHAPTER40

“I’m sorry, Hunter,” I said. “It’s been a madhouse around here.”

“It’s fine,” Hunter said. “Simone just called me. She let me know about Clara. What do you think of the suicide note?”

“If it was Clara’s handwriting, I believe it was done so under duress.”

“You think someone forced her to write it?”

“I do.”

“Why would she?”

“People do a lot of things when there’s a gun pointed at them,” I said. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the time I spent with Clara this morning. Nothing in her demeanor makes me think she was contemplating suicide.”

“Let’s say you’re right and someone else shot her. How is her death connected to Quinn’s?”

“I’m guessing Quinn found out something she shouldn’t have, and she died because of it.”

There was a pause, and then she said, “I may be able to help you there. When Quinn owned the flower shop, she’d drive home to visit her mother from time to time. One of those times, she’d stopped to pick up something at the store, and along the way, her purse tipped over, spilling all the contents at her feet. A pill bottle rolled beneath the gas pedal, and she panicked. She reached down to grab it and didn’t see a little boy chasing after his dog in the street.”

Every possible scenario of what happened next ran through my mind.

None of the scenarios were good.

“Please don’t say she ran the boy over,” I said.

“She did.”

“Did he survive?”

“His name was Lucas Parker. He was in a coma for a couple months. But yeah, he died.”

“What are his parents’ names?”

“Lori and Casey Parker.”

“I’m assuming that’s when Quinn closed the flower shop.”

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