Page 37 of The Premonition at Withers Farm
They met each other’s eyes, and Molly knew hers reflected the same as she saw in Sid’s. Sadness for a life not lived. The young weren’t supposed to die.
Molly refocused her attention on the task at hand. “I need to find something to clear Trent.”
“He’s not being charged with anything,” Sid reminded her.
Molly winced. “It makes me nervous all the same, like I need to be prepared to defend him.”
“You won’t find that on the internet.” Sid’s words struck with their logic. “WhoJanuary Rabine was to Trent means little right now. He would need an alibi.”
Molly pocketed her phone. “I’m going to the station. I need to be there for Trent.”
“Good.” Sid patted Molly’s knee, and Molly knew that Sid was affirming such an action primarily because it was something to do, if not at all helpful.
Molly jumped from the couch and hurried to the kitchen. She snatched up her purse and keys, then slipped her feet into flip-flops by the door. “Can you lock up when you leave?”
Sid stood in the doorway between the kitchen and thecarpeted dining room. “Sure. Drive slowly. We don’t need you being in such a hurry you get in an accident.”
“Right.” Molly flung the door to the mudroom open, then reached for the screen door. A shriek yodeled through her throat as she almost ran into a man, who was reaching for the screen door from the outside stoop. “Trent!”
Sid’s “Oh, thank God!” chimed in behind her.
Trent staggered into the mudroom, pushing past Molly.
“Are you okay?” Molly followed him. He bent and untied his work boots, kicking them off. When he straightened, Molly shuddered as his eyes, so empty, swept over her face and then moved to look beyond her.
“Is there any coffee?” he grunted.
“Yes.” Molly followed him, feeling a bit like a puppy trying to get attention from its master.
Sid laid a hand on Molly’s arm, her hazel eyes filled with understanding.“I’m going to grab my kids and we’ll head out. Call if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” Molly wanted to reach out and beg Sid to stay. She was a buffer. A voice of reason. Stability. Everything Trent wasn’t or hadn’t been in what seemed like forever. But it was unfair. Unfair of her to put that pressure on Sid. So Molly let her go.
Moments later, Trent eased his body onto the bench in the corner kitchen booth. It was a kitchen addition inspired by someone who’d run a restaurant once maybe? Molly didn’t know. She didn’t care. She just stared at the man she’d once been barely able to talk to because of the butterflies he’d caused in her. Now he was sprawled on the gray vinyl seat of the bench, his hands cupping a large mug of black coffee, staring into it.
Molly pulled a chair opposite him and settled into it. “What did the police want?”
His shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “Just to ask questions.”
“Didn’t you recognize her? Or know she was your cousin?” Molly’s stomach settled with a pit in the bottom that was like a lead weight.
Trent shook his head and ran his callused finger around the rim of his mug. “I’d only seen her when she was a toddler. Years ago at a Wasziak family reunion.”
“Have you stayed in contact with her parents? Your cousin Tiffany?”
Trent lifted his eyes for a moment before lowering them again. A brief glimpse into blue orbs flooded with defeat. “Dad wasn’t close to my uncle Roger. So, any of Roger’s kids—my cousin Tiffany? Nah. We didn’t stay in touch.”
Molly eyed Trent’s hand, which now rested beside his coffee mug. She wanted to reach out to lay hers over his. To comfort him. Most of all, she wanted to not doubt him. She wanted to believe they were so bonded, she knew beyond any shadows or questions that Trent was in the clear. It haunted her that they weren’t.
“The cops drilled me about my family,” Trent continued.
Molly chose not to reach for him.
“They wanted me to repeat everything all over again from the day I found January’s body.” Trent grimaced. He took a long draft of his coffee. When he set his mug down, some of the black liquid sloshed over the side. Trent ignored it. “They wanted to know where I was the night of January’s death. Apparently, her time of death was sometime after midnight.”
“What’d you tell them?”
Trent gave her a look that she had somehow missed the obvious answer. “That I was home. In bed. With you.”
