Page 56 of Until Hanna

“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “I mean, there was mail everywhere. I assumed it was dropped when she fell.”

“All right.” He jots something down, then asks, “Is there anything you want to ask?”

“Do I need to be worried about living here?”

“I wish I could tell you that, but right now, we’re just trying to sort things out.” He stands. “For now, I would just be cautious.” He pulls a card out of his pocket. “I’m going to need you to email me your employer information so I can confirm the information you gave me about where you were yesterday.”

“Of course,” she replies quietly, taking the card he hands her as she stands.

“Have a good day, Ms. Mayson, and if you can think of anything else, please call me,” he says as we follow him down the hall, and when she closes the door behind him, she spins to face me, looking white as a ghost.

“He thinks she was murdered?”

“He said they’re trying to figure that out.”

“He said he has to verify where I was and what time I got home yesterday!” she cries, tossing her arms in the air, her chest rising and falling quickly. Too quickly.

“Baby, calm down. We don’t know what happened, and it sounds liketheydon’t even know what happened.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Walker. If someone murdered her….” Her face crumples, and I hook her around the back of the neck and pull her against my chest. Then, for the second day in a row, I hold her while she cries, feeling completely fucking helpless.

CHAPTER17

hanna

Walking up the walkway to Douglas’s house, Walker’s hand wraps tightly around mine. The nervousness I felt just yesterday over introducing him to Douglas and his wife is long gone. Honestly, I’m having a difficult time feeling anything other than grief and trepidation.

I can’t wrap my mind around the idea of Mrs. Lewis being dead, and I really can’t believe someone might have killed her. And even with Walker reminding me over and over all day that Officer Taylor didn’t say she was murdered, but the injuries she sustained might not have occurred from a fall down the stairs.

I’m not stupid. I’ve listened to enough podcasts and watched enough true crime documentaries to know you don’t ask questions like the ones he was asking me unless you believe there could be foul play involved. And that’s terrifying.

I have no idea who could have done that to her or if there is a risk to myself or anyone else still staying in the house.

“I think I need to move.”

“Pardon?” Walker asks, stopping us halfway up the walkway.

“I think I should move.”

“Why do you need to move?”

“Because I don’t know what happened to Mrs. Lewis. I don’t know if the police have a suspect in mind or if the person will come back to try to hurt me or you or anyone in that house.”

“Baby.” He shakes his head and turns me to face him.

“I’m serious, Walker.”

“I know you are.”

“I don’t feel safe.”

“Okay, but how about we give things a couple of days before we start packing?” He cups my face in his hands. “Monday, you can call Officer Taylor and ask him if he has any more information. If he tells you that he doesn’t but is sure Mrs. Lewis was murdered, we’ll go look at apartments.”

“Okay.” I let out a sigh of relief that he isn’t telling me I’m being ridiculous.

“Are you two gonna stay out here all night then?” Douglas asks, and I turn to find him standing in the doorway with his wife Blair, while their daughters, Elsie and Vi, peek through the blinds covering the front window.

Letting me go, Walker takes my hand, and the two of us walk side by side up to the house. The minute I’m within reach, Douglas pulls me away from Walker and wraps his arms around me. “I’m sorry for your loss, lass.”

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