Page 18 of Beyond Her Reach (Bree Taggert #10)

Marina Maxwell lived in the smallest single-family home Bree had ever seen, but she had to give Harrison’s new girlfriend credit: The place was immaculate and cozy. A wooden reindeer and a light-up snowman occupied a front lawn the size of a basketball court.

Bree parked at the curb and looked over at Matt. Rain pattered on the windshield. “What do we know about her?”

Matt checked his notes. “Marina is thirty. No tickets. No record. She’s the assistant manager at a women’s clothing boutique in Scarlet Falls. Drives a minivan.”

They climbed out of the SUV. The wind kicked up, and Bree turned up her collar against the wet chill.

The house had no garage or driveway, just a narrow brick path that led to the front porch.

Bree and Matt flanked the front door. A frosted wreath hung on the door, and a Welcome to Our Home doormat adorned the concrete front stoop.

Bree rapped on the door with an old-fashioned brass knocker.

The woman who creaked open the door looked absurdly like a younger version of Kelly.

She was petite with dark hair and brown eyes.

She wore a sweaterdress, knee-high boots, and a full face of makeup, including false eyelashes.

She stared at Bree through the six-inch gap for a few seconds.

She didn’t look surprised. “I don’t have to talk to you. ”

“No, you don’t,” agreed Bree. “If you don’t want to confirm Harrison’s alibi, that’s fine with me.”

Marina’s confidence faltered. She stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

Bree stepped directly into a tiny living room, grateful for the warmth that enveloped her. The cramped space was ruthlessly organized. Cubbies near the door held shoes and backpacks. Jackets hung on pegs.

Matt joined her in the foyer, and Bree introduced them both.

Marina shot her an annoyed glance. “I’m making dinner, so you’ll have to ask your questions while I work.

” She led the way into an equally small kitchen, where a cutting board sat next to a slow cooker.

“You have fifteen minutes. Then the boys will be home, and I’ll need to take them to karate class. ”

Bree didn’t waste time. “Harrison took your boys on Monday afternoon?”

“Yes.” She chopped two carrots with the rapid-fire knife action of a cooking show chef and transferred them to the slow cooker with one smooth motion of her thick-bladed knife.

“He picked them up at school and took them to the trampoline park. It was a big help to me. I was supposed to be off, but an employee called in sick. It’s hard to get a sitter at the last minute. ”

“What time did Harrison bring them home?” Bree asked.

“I don’t remember exactly.” Marina kept her head down, moving a small onion to the center of the block. Without raising her head, she said, “Around five?” She kept her gaze on her work, slicing the onion into perfectly even segments.

“What time did he leave?” Bree asked.

“Probably around six. It was a school night. The boys had homework to do.” She scraped the sliced onion into the pot and waved her knife in a circle to indicate the kitchen.

“My house is small. There isn’t room to entertain.

” Her eyes met Bree’s for a split second before skittering away.

Was she nervous about speaking with the sheriff?

Or was her discomfort caused by lying? Most people weren’t very good at it.

“It might be small, but you’ve done a great job making it feel like a home,” Matt said.

She smiled at him, her gaze softening. “Thank you. It’s hard to do the homemaking and work full-time.”

“Does the boys’ father help out at all?” Matt asked.

Since Kelly seemed to like him better—many women did, for obvious reasons—Bree let him cozy up to her. He could be very persuasive and was a masterful interviewer.

Kelly’s eyes welled with unshed tears. Her reaction felt genuine, unlike her confirmation of Harrison’s alibi.

“My husband died three years ago in a car accident. Before that, I was a stay-at-home mom. I loved it. That’s all I really want to do.

But no one expects their husband to die so young.

We weren’t prepared. We didn’t have enough life insurance.

And without Wyatt, we suddenly didn’t have health insurance either.

I was one health emergency away from bankruptcy.

Even with insurance, it’s hard to cover copayments, deductibles, and coinsurance.

Last month, Brandon fell off the swing, cut his hand, and needed stitches.

My deductible is five thousand dollars. Harrison paid the bill for me.

I don’t think most people have that kind of money just laying around.

” She took a heaving breath to compose herself.

“Anyway, you don’t realize how much money you’re going to need when your spouse dies.

I had to start working again, sell our house, and downsize considerably to make ends meet.

I’d been out of the workforce for years, and my pay reflects that. ”

“You must work nonstop,” Matt said. “Yet you still obviously make time to exercise.”

Marina flushed. Her long eyelashes fluttered like caterpillar legs. “I do my best.”

Matt was really pouring it on, and Marina was reeled right in. He made a sympathetic noise. “How old are your boys?”

“Six and nine.” Kelly went to the fridge and retrieved a package of chicken thighs. She opened it and dumped them onto the cutting board.

“Great ages. Losing their dad must have been rough,” Matt said.

“It was.” She deboned the thighs like a pro, then cut the meat into smaller pieces. “Which is why I appreciate when Harrison spends time with them. They need a good man in their life.”

“They like him?” Matt asked.

“Yes.” Kelly put the chicken in the pot and added a carton of broth. Then she set the lid into place and turned the appliance on high. “He’s great with them. He really misses his own kids since they went to college.”

“Sounds like you two are a great match. Think you’ll marry him someday?”

“Oh, yes. We have a lot in common—he’s a real family man.”

Bree restrained her eyeballs, which wanted to roll right into the back of her skull.

Harrison had cheated on and dumped his first wife.

Did Marina not think that could happen to her as well?

Or was she betting that by the time she hit forty-five, he’d be sixty and too old to replace her with a younger model?

Bree prescribed to the once a cheater, always a cheater philosophy, but it wasn’t her life.

Matt lowered his voice. “Did you ever meet his ex?”

“Once, by accident.” Marina cleaned the counter with disinfectant. “We were in the grocery store and she walked right up to us.”

“That must have been awkward.”

“I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but she was awful.” She paused, her paper towel in midsweep. “I don’t know how he stayed with her that long.”

“What did she say?” Matt’s tone turned conspiratorial.

Marina’s lips pursed like she’d bitten down on an unripe berry. “She looked right at me and said, ‘No returns. You took him. Now you have to keep him.’”

The corner of Bree’s mouth twitched. No laughing. But damn, that was a good comeback.

Matt was better at playing a role. “That is awful.”

“And she refused to sell their house. She strung him along for months and months.” Once Marina started whining, she couldn’t stop, like a car rolling down a steep, icy hill. “He had to pay the mortgage even though he didn’t live there anymore.”

Matt tsked and shook his head. “So unfair.”

“Right?” She returned the spray cleaner to the cabinet. “Harrison was so patient. The man is a saint.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. Bree knew that look. He was done playing.

“So you don’t think he killed her?” he asked. “I mean, her death solves a lot of his financial problems.”

“Oh, no!” Marina froze, her eyes wide as dinner plates. “He would never hurt anyone. She’s the mother of his children.”

Matt lifted both palms. “Oh, wait! Kelly was killed between noon and six on Monday. Harrison was at the trampoline park and then he was here, right? He couldn’t have done it.”

Marina sputtered. “Right.” But was that a hint of doubt in her voice?

“Anyway. Thanks so much for speaking with us. Your alibi is really helpful.” Matt smiled. “Do you want to come to the station to sign your statement, or would you prefer if a deputy brings it to you?”

A quick flash of panic crossed her face. “I have to sign something?”

“Well, yes,” Matt said. “We need it to be official and legal.”

Marina didn’t respond. She just stared at him, her mouth slightly open. A chime sounded on her phone, startling her. “I—I have to get the boys at the bus stop.” She headed for the door, pulling a jacket off a wall peg. Then she took an umbrella from a stand.

Bree and Matt walked to the SUV.

The cold drizzle pelted Bree’s face. As she slid behind the wheel, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen. “The ME says to drop by. The autopsy is finished.”

She started the engine. Waiting for the heat to kick on, she watched Marina step off the porch, open the umbrella, and head toward the corner, where a yellow school bus rumbled to a stop.

Two little boys emerged, jackets hanging open, backpacks trailing on the wet ground.

The smaller boy dropped his backpack and jumped with both feet into a puddle.

Water splashed onto Marina. Her jacket didn’t fully cover her dress, and water splashed the front.

She lunged at the little boy, grabbing him by the jacket shoulder and pulling him close to her.

She spoke in his ear, her face contorted in anger.

The boy began to cry. The older boy stood on the sidewalk and watched.

Were those tears or raindrops on his face?

Anger welled in Bree.

Marina straightened, her face shifting into perfect mommy mode once again as she led the boys home. They followed in her wake like sad, subdued ducklings.

“Guess she isn’t perfect after all.” Bree shifted into drive. She didn’t want to watch anymore. There wasn’t anything she could do. Marina wasn’t abusing her child. She was just being a bitch. No law against that.

“Nothing says doting mother like dimming your kids’ joy over a puddle,” Matt said, clearly disgusted. “What did you think of Harrison’s alibi?”

Shivering, Bree thought about Marina’s obvious discomfort. “She seemed uncomfortable verifying the times. I think we definitely need that surveillance tape from the trampoline park.”

“Marina is looking for a ring. She’s playing the pretty traditional woman role, hoping to reel in Harrison’s paycheck.”

Bree adjusted the dashboard vents, so the heat blew in her face. “He’s hardly Mr. Innocent. I’m sure he knows what’s what.”

Matt pointed the vents in front of him toward her as well. He was never cold. “Do you think she realizes that providing someone with a fake alibi could mean keeping a murderer out on the street—and in her life?”