Page 69 of Little Stolen Memories

“So no, then.”

“I decided to make it as easy as possible on both of us. I told her I didn’t want the investigation to cause me too much stress, so I’ve decided to let you and Whitlock do your thing. She knows you’ll check in by way of text message or maybe even a call here and there so I can stay up on things.”

“I bet she’s thrilled,” I said.

“Sure is … why else do you think she’s humming? Been humming to herself all day.”

We joined my mother at the table.

As we filled our plates with comfort food, she said, “How was your day, Georgiana? Have any suspects yet?”

“A few. How was your day?”

Harvey looked at my mother and then said, “We had a bit of a scare this morning.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing to fuss over,” my mother said. “A minor incident.”

“Will one of you please tell me what happened?” I asked.

My mother gave Harvey a frustrated look and then said, “Oh, all right. Our sweet, elderly neighbor, Robert Jenkins, was out riding his bike this morning. He rides up and down the street several times each day to get some exercise. I was on my way home from the grocery store. As I rounded the corner … well, I just, I didn’t see him there, and I nicked him with my car.”

“When you say you ‘nicked him,’ was he injured?” I asked.

“The bike got the worst of it. Robert has a few broken bones. He’ll live.”

Over the past year, I’d started to notice my mother’s eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. We’d all been pushing her to get her eyes checked. As much as I didn’t like hearing about the accident she’d had earlier in the day, maybe it was the wakeup call she needed.

“Are you going to make an appointment for an eye exam?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes as if she’d expected the question and said, “Yes, dear. I already have. Now, can we please talk about something other than me?”

“We can,” I said. “I had a couple of interesting visits today. The first was with Xander Thornton. He lost his wife not too long ago, and his brother is living with him, helping Xander with his daughter.”

“Xander … I believe he’s the poor fellow Harvey told me had been tied to a tree in the park when he was younger, right?” my mother asked.

I nodded. “When I visited with him today he also admitted to prank-calling some of his female classmates when they were back in high school. When they answered, he’d breathe into the phone, say their names, that kind of thing.”

Harvey set his fork down, running a hand along his jaw. “You think the kid did it? You think he killed his classmates to get revenge for what they did to him?”

“I don’t know. I’ll admit, he acted strange toward the end of the visit. We all know his father gave him an alibi all those years ago, but the man could have lied.”

“Would have been good to question his pop a second time,” Harvey said. “Too bad he’s dead.”

“Xander has the strongest motive of anyone I’ve questioned. If he’s guilty, though, I haven’t found the evidence I need to prove it yet.”

“You said you had a couple of visits today,” Whitlock said. “Who was the second?”

“Ty Conroy. He’s a teacher now, like his dad had been. I got the impression he’s dealing with some demons of his own. I’m just not sure if they’re demons from the past or the present. When I walked into his classroom after school was over for the day, I caught him drinking out of a flask he keeps in his desk drawer.”

“Maybe he was winding down after a long day,” Whitlock said.

“I questioned him about the day he assaulted Jackson at school after the principal found out he’d given his father’s biology exam to Jackson so he could pass the class.”

“Seems like small potatoes to me,” Whitlock said. “I never got the impression Ty had anything to do with what happened to those kids at the cabin.”

“I agree with you. It was a petty high school squabble, the kind teenagers have all the time. I’d never assume someone would resort to murder over it, except for one thing.”

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