Page 15 of Deathtoll

She hadn’t been living there long, but she’d already given the house plenty of loving attention, including an oversized welcome mat.

She made better everything she touched.

Murph caught the thought, acknowledged just how far he was gone. But, honestly, so what? He wasn’t seeing her through rose-colored glasses. Shewasa nurturer, the very reason why her patients at the center thrived under her care. She was consistently one of the highest-rated therapists on the team.

“May I?” he called after them from the doorway.

“Of course.” But her eyes didn’t quite meet his.

Murph stepped inside. As he closed the door behind him, he tamped down his feelings—and he had plenty—about her living apart from him, about the fact that it was his first time visiting.

The interior had been completely renovated by the previous owner, no sign of old carpets or linoleum. Hardwood floors, light gray kitchen cabinets with white tile backsplash and granite countertops, appliances all next to new. There went his chance to offer to help her fix up the place.

“I’d say she fell an hour or two ago,” Bing told them as he pulled out a chair for Kate.

The two of them sat at the table, while Murph stayed standing on the imaginary dividing line between the living room and the kitchen, placing himself between Kate and the front door. He acknowledged the protection reflex and didn’t worry too much about it.

Kate clasped her hands together on the table in front of her. “Who found her?”

“Lilly Corrigan. Lives two streets over. She was walking her dog off leash. The dog ran between the houses and started barking. Miss Corrigan ran after him, saw Betty, couldn’t make her come around, called 911.”

“Did she suffer?” Kate’s voice broke on the last word, and Murph had to work at staying still.

“I wouldn’t think so.” Bing rubbed his palm over the tired lines on his face.

He had a soft spot for Betty Gardner too. Everybody at the PD did. Betty and a few of her friends had organized the fundraising for a new police cruiser a couple of years back, when the township couldn’t come up with the money in the budget.

Kate dropped her hands onto her lap. “How did it happen?”

“The best I can tell right now, she slipped, fell, and hit her head on the outside basement entry.”

“Why would she go back there?”

“Taking out garbage, most likely. She was right next to the recycle bin.”

Kate blinked away her tears. “I can’t tell you how many times I offered to help with that.”

“You and others.” Bing nodded with sympathy.

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Bing asked, “Do you know who’ll be making funeral arrangements for her?”

“I’d think Linda, her friend from church. They had power of attorney for each other. We were just talking about it last week. I told Betty I was going into the office supply store in West Chester to restock the cabinet at work, and she asked me if I could pick up a three-ring binder for her because she was organizing her legal papers.”

“You know Linda’s last name?”

“Betty said it, but… No. Sorry. It’ll probably come to me later.”

“No worries, I’ll find her. I can call her pastor.”

“He’ll know. Or one of her other friends at church will.” Kate wrapped her arms around her middle, her features tight. She was fighting damn hard to keep it together.

Murph fought just as hard to keep from going to her. When it became too much, he backed out and went in search of Gabi. If he were to help anybody, he needed to do more than look longingly at Kate.

A turn in the weather had put a nip in the air, the sky gray.

Other than a flock of gossipy Canada geese honking their hearts out overhead, rushing south, the street was quiet. Neighbors who were at home had probably been over already, talked to Bing, then returned to their kitchens to call everybody they knew with the news. By now, most of Broslin would have been alerted to Betty’s accident—just the way small towns worked.

“Hey, Gabi.” Murph found her snapping pictures between Betty’s house and the neighbor’s on the other side, where the garbage bins stood. “How’s Hunter?”