Page 105 of Love Me Fierce

“It’s no bother.” She goes to her cupboards. “Please make yourself at home. I’ll be right there.”

I take in the framed posters of travel destinations lining the walls on my way to the couch. I slip out my notebook and pen from my coat pocket as I sit.

Mrs. Ovenell’s curtains flanking the big window stand open, the glass streaked with rain. A card table with a partially assembled jigsaw puzzle sits below it, with a chair tucked in. A buzz of anticipation dances over my skin. This is exactly the kind of setup every copdreams of. If Mrs. Ovenell was sitting here on Tuesday, maybe this visit won’t be a waste of time after all.

Mrs. Ovenell carries two plates into the living room and sets them on the coffee table.

“Now, you want to know about Tuesday, correct?”

I break off a piece of the banana bread. “That’s right. Were you home?”

“Yes. I know because that afternoon my daughter picked me up at two to go to the hospital.”

I don’t really want the details of her medical procedure, so I push ahead. “Did you see someone over there?” It’s tempting to want to plant names and details to see if she reacts. But that could mess with her recall, and a defense lawyer would have a field day.

“No.”

Hmm. “When did you find out about the break in?”

“When you called and left me that message.”

Interviewing people is like a dance. Sometimes it’s effortless, and sometimes you stumble, or the music changes and you’ve got to adapt quickly. I have a feeling this interview is going to be more like the latter.

I glance past the card table through the window to Vivian’s trailer. The person who broke in had to have spent a good amount of time inside, and not one person noticed?

“Did you see anyone hanging around or walking by, maybe someone you didn’t recognize? Who doesn’t belong?”

Like a dark-haired woman armed with a screwdriver?

“No,” Mrs. Ovenell says, her lips pursed tight.

I sit back. “Why don’t you run me through your day. Whatever you can remember.”

She gives me a grave nod. “Well, I saw Vivian and that adorable boy of hers at around seven forty-five. She had brought me soup the night before, so I hurried over to return the container before they left for their day. Then I had a new puzzle to work on, so I sorted it andput the edge pieces together. I think I checked in with the hospital at around nine forty-five.”

I take another bite of the banana bread. “What did you do after that?”

“I worked on the puzzle a little more.” She gets up and walks over to the chair which faces the street, her eyes on the expanse of pavement between her row of units and Vivian’s. “I had lunch, then I had a nap before Nina picked me up.”

I almost wince when she says “nap.” I try another angle. “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary that day? Before you left for the hospital?”

“That car was here again.”

My idle thoughts jerk to a halt. “What car?”

“I only got a glimpse, but it was a station wagon.”

I jot this down. “Color?” Shawna drives a recent-model cobalt blue Mazda CX-5.

“I thought it was purple at first, but it was more like a deep red. Maroon.”

My gut bottoms out and the air sticks to my lungs. I blink at my notebook while my thoughts crash together. A maroon station wagon? Hold on a sec.

Could it be thesamemaroon station wagon Jordy Clarke gunned through the Glory Holes parking lot? The same one he then abandoned at the boat ramp after I chased him?

The timing fits. I cornered that Taurus on Tuesday just after noon. That would have given the perp a good four hours to turn the trailer inside out. It’s tight, but for a pro like Jordy Clarke…...

I try to reel in my rampant thoughts.

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