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C HAPTER T HIRTY -T WO

They were back at Shannon’s house and she was reeling with the heaviness of it all. All signs, in Shannon’s opinion, pointed to Holiday. The piece of fabric caught in the woodwork at Chloe’s house. The same piece of fabric missing from Holiday’s shirt. And what about the person who showed up at Rosella’s house right after Blake and Ridley disappeared? If Holiday was responsible for Rosella’s death, what could possibly have been his motive?

She’d met him only once. She knew you couldn’t judge a book by its cover, but seriously, besides his height and build, he was a kid. She thought Dianne and Chloe had been leaning toward Holiday being the culprit, but neither of them had said a word.

“What did you think about the baseball hat with the emblem on it?” Shannon asked.

“I thought it could be anyone’s.”

“Have you tried zooming in on the picture?”

Chloe nodded. “It’s even blurrier when I enlarge the photo.”

Shannon saw the pain etched in Chloe’s face, and she felt a profound ache of empathy. Her son was in jail. Shannon couldn’t imagine being in her shoes.

“The video proves Blake didn’t kill Rosella, doesn’t it?” Chloe asked.

“We’re getting closer,” Shannon said.

“The pressure is on to find the killer, but we have to get it right.” Chloe pulled out her phone and tapped on the screen. “Why do I feel as if Rosella has won? Even in death? She was so sure I wanted to steal Lance away from her.” Chloe shook her head in disbelief. “She hated me.”

“She hated everyone,” Shannon reminded her.

“The hate she carried for me was different, though. I saw it in her eyes. She wanted me to suffer from the beginning.”

Shannon’s mind filled with snapshots of her meeting with Rosella, how calm she’d appeared one moment, then how desperate and paranoid in the next. Shannon knew from her work helping to solve online crimes that it helped to always go back to the victim. Personal conflicts were always a red flag. Unfortunately, Rosella had more red flags than most. “Do you think Rosella truly wanted the entire neighborhood to feel her pain?”

“Definitely,” Chloe said without hesitation. “I don’t think I would have said that a few years ago. She was always mean, but Daniel’s death had a detrimental impact on her, steering her down a very dark path.”

They were sitting at the kitchen island. What Chloe said did seem to be the consensus. While Shannon sifted through the stack of notes, Chloe kept rewinding and watching the video of her kids crawling from Rosella’s basement window and running off seconds before a third figure showed up.

Another image of Shannon’s day with Rosella surfaced in her head—this one of Rosella gesturing for Shannon to turn away while she fiddled with her husband’s antique desk. “Rosella had been hiding the envelope of scribbles she gave me. What else had she been hiding?”

Chloe didn’t respond.

“Isn’t a paranoid and suspicious person usually the one hiding secrets?”

“Not necessarily,” Chloe said. “But what do I know?”

“When Rosella said everyone in the neighborhood was hiding something, I wonder if she was projecting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe Rosella was attributing her own thoughts and feelings to others? Maybe she was hiding the biggest secret of all.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

Chloe went back to watching her video.

“I think we need to find a way to get inside Rosella’s house,” Shannon said matter-of-factly.

Chloe grimaced. “Are you serious? Why would we do such a thing?”

“Hear me out. When I first met Rosella, she made me look away while she fiddled with her late husband’s antique desk. It had a bunch of compartments, and she needed a key to get into it.” Shannon paused. “Why would she have me turn away? Unless,” she said, raising her brows for emphasis, “she was hiding something.”

Chloe asked, “Why are you so sure Blake isn’t responsible for Rosella’s death?”

The question came out of nowhere, taking Shannon by surprise. “For starters, you also know Blake is innocent.”

“But I’m his mother. I know him inside and out. I know his heart.”

“The video you keep watching is our first real clue,” Shannon said, pointing at Chloe’s phone. “There’s no way Blake had enough time to return home and run back to Rosella’s before the third person appears.” She paused. “It wasn’t Blake. Mac would have known if he was the one who attacked her.”

“Detective Seicinski has been through Rosella’s house twice now,” Chloe reminded her.

“I don’t care. We need to get inside and open Rosella’s desk.”

Chloe frowned. “It’s a long shot, and you do realize you’re talking about breaking and entering?”

“I’m talking about possibly getting Blake out of jail. We have a video, and we both know it’s a great start, but we need more. If we do get inside Rosella’s house, and we find nothing inside her desk, we call Detective Seicinski and tell her everything we know.”

Chloe was quiet.

Shannon pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “You started this conversation by saying it was over—that Rosella had won, which means we lost. Are you ready to give up?”

“No. Let’s do this.”

“You used to be friends with Rosella,” Shannon said. “Any idea how we might get into her house?”

“The Marlows used to keep a spare key under a loose brick on the patio in her backyard.”

“How long ago?”

“Ten years. Maybe longer.”

Shannon tried to rub the kink out of her neck, but it was no use.

“It was Lance who told me about the key,” Chloe explained. “They were away on a family trip, and Lance called to ask if I would unplug their kitchen appliances and the air-conditioning. Rosella was a stickler for that sort of thing, and he didn’t want her to know he’d forgotten to do it. When I told him I didn’t have a key, he told me about the one hidden under a loose brick in the backyard. There’s a good chance he never told Rosella, since she would not have been happy about having a spare key lying around. But if she did know about the key, it’s probably gone.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Shannon said. “I’ll bring a picklock, just in case.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Chloe said. “Let’s do it tonight. I’ll tell Ridley to watch Rowan.”

“Where are you planning to say you’re going?” Shannon asked.

“To the police station to talk to Detective Seicinski and to see Blake.”

“Call me when you’re ready to go. I’ll tell Trey and Mac you need me.”

“Okay,” Chloe said. “Wear black. Meet me on the corner of Forty-Fifth and M. I’ll be sitting in my car. We’ll drive to the next block over, then sneak back to our block and make our way through the side yard, past the garbage bins.”

“I’ll be waiting for your call.”