Page 38 of The White Picket Fence

Gino was a hero and was ready with a cold cloth for her swollen eyes. “We’ve got bags of frozen peas if you need something colder.”

She laughed wetly. “The cloth will be fine, thank you.” She took a moment to collect herself. “The emails started when I was in college. I kept the email address I had in high school for a few years.”

“When did you get rid of it?” Tino asked.

“The summer between my sophomore and junior year, when my parents got divorced and sold the house. Canceled the internet. My email address was attached to their cable service.” She met Tino’s eyes again. “But I think it was more that I was hoping you’d contact me.”

Tino felt sucker punched. “You told me not to.”

“I know. I thought it would be easier.”

“For who?” Tino asked, acutely aware that his brother wasn’t even pretending not to listen.

“I said it was for you, but I think it was more for me. If you’d asked me to come home, I probably would have. And I wasn’t ready yet.”

Tino didn’t understand, but this wasn’t the time for the conversation they desperately needed to have. “All right. The emails from the prison system started in college.”

She flinched at his brusque topic change but nodded. “My freshman year. I just kept deleting them, thinking that everyone got them. Finally, after two years of it, I told my RA—my resident advisor—and she told me to change my email address. I had one at school that classmates and teachers used and my folks weren’t big emailers. They preferred to call me on the phone. That was right about the time they got divorced and sold the house. They both moved. Mom went to Jersey and Dad went to Michigan.”

“Why were they together when they died?” Tino asked, then wished he hadn’t when her eyes filled with pain.

“They were coming to see me. It was after the car accident I had with my ex, which caused the injuries that made me need the cane. Mom and Dad flew in on different flights and met up at the airport. They were in a rental car and got hit by a semi that was dodging a car that zipped in front of it.”

“Oh, Charlie,” Tino murmured. “You felt guilty, didn’t you?”

“Surprisingly, no. The driver of the car who did the stupid move in front of the semi was charged. I had someone else to blame besides myself. This is different, though, Tino. This guy yelled ‘Where is she?’ right before he shot Mr. Lewis. Kayla thought he was looking for her, but we both know he was looking for me.Me, Tino.”

Tino nodded. “I’m certain he was looking for you.” And he was so glad that the asshole hadn’t known Charlotte’s home address. “But that still doesn’t make it your fault. Were you kind to Kevin Hale back in high school?”

“Yes, but no more kind than I was to anyone else who wasn’t you. He must have thought I meant it personally.”

“See?” Tino said. “Not your fault. You were kind, Charlotte. You didn’t lead him on. That wasn’t your way. If he’s obsessed with you—and it sounds like that’s what’s happening here—it’s on him. Not you.” He could see that he wasn’t getting through, so he let it go for now. “Let’s call Vito and bring him up to date.”

And then Tino would get busy finding out everything there was to know about Kevin Hale.

“How are you going to explain the facial recognition software and access to databases you shouldn’t know how to get into?” she asked. “Because Vito will ask.”

He glanced at Gino. “I could tell him that Gino recognized him from school.”

“Not a total lie,” Gino said cheerfully. “I’ll be a fucking hero.”

Charlotte smiled at Gino before turning back to Tino. “Then let’s call Vito.”

CHAPTER6

Mount Airy, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Thursday, March 31, 12:45 a.m.

Vito lookedat Gino across Tino’s dining room table. Vito had come as soon as he’d found someone to sit with Sophie and now appeared highly skeptical of Tino’s explanation of how they’d gotten Kevin Hale’s name, which Charlotte found to be no surprise. But she kept her mouth shut because Tino had done this for her. She wasn’t going to get him into any more trouble.

“You recognized him, huh?” Vito said, brows raised.

Gino nodded vigorously. “From Tino’s photo rendition of his sketch. Kevin Hale was in my shop class. We sat near each other, and I helped him with his senior project.”

“I see,” Vito said dryly, clearly not buying Gino’s explanation. “Did he ever mention Charlotte back then?”

Beside her, Tino relaxed a fraction. Vito might not have entirely believed Gino, but it didn’t seem like he was making a big deal about it.

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