Page 43

“Coming,” she mumbled. She finally reached the door and threw it open. “I heard you the first time.”

Eric paused, his finger on the doorbell. “Sorry.” He didn’t return her smile.

“What’s wrong?” A hundred scenarios went through her head. Was Bryce okay? Corina? Mom?

“May I come in?”

She stepped aside and let him pass. “What’s going on? Is my family okay?”

“Yes,” he was quick to reassure her. “They’re all fine. It’s just...” He sighed and motioned her to sit, but she wasn’t ready to do so until she knew what this was about. His gaze landed on her glasses, and his brows drew together.

“They’re for migraines,” she said in answer to his unspoken question.

“They help?”

“A little.”Get to the point.

He nodded and took a deep breath. “The reason I’m here is that we found a body this morning. The autopsy hasn’t been done yet, but the initial assessment is consistent with your description of what you saw behind your studio the other night.”

She sank into her recliner. “A body? As in, dead?”

“Yes. Would you recognize the victim you saw?”

“No.” She didn’t even have to think about it. “It was starting to get dark, and I wasn’t at a good angle to see him. I only got a good look at the attacker.” She’d seen him all too well.

“That’s what I was afraid of. Any idea what the victim was wearing?”

She thought a moment. “Jeans and a dark T-shirt, I think. Couldn’t tell you what color.”

“Did you notice anything on the shirt? Logo, text?”

“I don’t remember. But he was half curled up, like he’d been trying to protect himself from the blows.” Her voice shook, and she wasn’t sure he heard the last few words. She twisted her hands. “But his head didn’t look right, and he wasn’t moving.”

“I’m going to need you to walk me through everything again.”

“Okay.”God, please help me remember any pertinent details.She shot the silent prayer upward as she reached for her knitting bag. But it wasn’t by her chair. She looked around and spotted it in the pile of bags she’d left just inside the door last night.

Eric pulled out his pen and notebook.Notebook!

“Hold on!” She launched from her chair, remembering too late to take it slow. Unwilling to let on about the wave of dizziness, she kept going and made it into the kitchen and out of Eric’s sight before having to grab on to a chair back to steady herself. While she waited for the spell to pass, her gaze roamed the table. There. As soon as the dizziness was manageable, she grabbed the spiral-bound notebook peeking from under yesterday’s breakfast plate that she’d missed when she loaded the dishwasher.

Notebook in hand, she returned to the living room and thrust it into Eric’s hands. “Friday, before I went to bed, I wrote everything down that I could remember. I was afraid with my—” She cut the words off before she admitted too much. “I was afraid I might forget something important.”

“That was a good idea.” He looked pleased, and she felt her cheeks warm. He flipped the cover back and began reading.

She felt herself sway slightly. Better not just stand here. She retrieved her knitting, then sat next to him on the couch where she could see the pages as well. She hated that her writing was shaky, but it was still legible. That was the important thing.

Eric reached the last page, which only contained a few lines. He paused there for a moment, then flipped backward as if searching for a detail. He clicked his pen a few times. “There was a third manpresent at the initial attack. And your attacker had someone with him at the park as well. Same guy?”

Not something she’d considered. She worked a few more stitches of the nearly finished glove she hoped to sell at her festival booth. As her fingers flew automatically through the familiar motions, she pictured the man who’d been leaning against the back wall of the building. He’d been in the shadows, and her focus had been on the attacker and victim. When the attacker turned toward her, she’d run.

Her needles slowed, and she sighed as she lifted her eyes to Eric. “I want to say no. My impression of the guy behind the building was that he was older—not old, but an adult. I’m not positive of that though because I didn’t get a good look at him and I didn’t hear his voice. The guy at the park sounded like a teenager.” She hesitated. “And there’s something else.”

“What?”

“The one in the park? His voice sounded a lot like Dion’s, and he was wearing the same shoes as Dion was yesterday.”

Eric’s spine straightened, and he stared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”