Page 28

“ H ow are you doing?” Indie asked as they walked down the street. “And don’t tell me fine if you’re not.”

Oh, Clara definitely wasn’t fine. A week had passed since she and Holden had separated. Every day she woke up, expecting the pain to ease and things to feel easier—they didn’t.

“Not too good.” She frowned down at her sweet tea.

They’d grabbed drinks from The Tea House, but Deb had been there and the woman talked a lot, and Clara hadn’t really felt like talking so they’d gone for a walk.

She needed to get out and move anyway. “He’s been calling and texting every day to check in, asking if we can talk, but after the way he left, I just need some space. ”

Her mother and Indie had been amazing over the last week. Making her meals. Staying over. If it wasn’t for them, she’d probably have drowned in self-pity by now.

“What if he wants to tell you that he made a mistake and wants you back?”

Yearning and fear competed inside her. “What about the next time I have a health scare? Will he just desert me again when I need him most? He already promised me once that he wouldn’t leave, and he did it at the first opportunity.

I need a partner who’s going to stick around during the hard times, not just the good. ”

Indie reached out and squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to drive over to his place tomorrow and kick him where the sun don’t shine as penance for being an idiot? Because I will.”

Clara chuckled, and it felt good to laugh. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why? Because he’s former special forces? You forget, I was married to a Marine. I have skills.”

As if mention of her husband had conjured the woman, Sylvia Reed, Colt’s mother, walked around the corner.

Indie stopped in her tracks. “Sylvia.”

“Indie, what a surprise.” She glanced at Clara. “Hi, Clara.”

She gave the older woman a tight smile. “Hi.”

“How are you?” Indie asked politely.

Sylvia was a short, thin lady. She came from old money and looked the part. Her hair was always perfect, clothes expensive, and there was always jewelry—today a pearl necklace and beautiful pearl earrings.

“I’m good. You still look tired, dear.” Sylvia scanned Indie’s body in an almost intrusive way. “Not sleeping well since the split from Colt?”

Clara almost gasped, and she was a second away from telling the woman that her cousin looked great, but Indie spoke first.

“I’m sleeping fine, Sylvia.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I spoke to Colt last night. He’s not sleeping well either. Such a tough thing you’re putting him through.”

Her cousin straightened. “I’m not putting him through anything. Couples separate.”

“You know, after all that stress from the procedures and disappointments, I don’t blame you for needing a break from each other.”

Clara’s jaw dropped. She was actually bringing up Indie’s struggle with IVF?

“IVF wasn’t why we separated,” Indie said firmly.

“It couldn’t have helped.” Sylvia perked up. “Speaking of which, did you hear that Julia Stratton just had twins? Natural conception after they stopped trying. Just shows, God has a plan, and we just need to surrender to it instead of forcing things.”

That was it! Clara was going to kick this woman in the shin.

She stepped forward, but Indie grabbed her arm. “We should go.”

“I’ll pass on to Colt that I saw you.”

Indie tensed before walking around the woman.

Clara waited until they were at least ten steps down the road before letting it out. “That woman is—”

“The Devil,” Indie cut in. “She’s the Devil.”

“Why did Colt not put an end to it?”

“She usually didn’t do any of that in front of him. And when she did, she was a lot more subtle with her passive-aggressive digs. Do you know she once told me that some women just aren’t meant to be mothers?”

“You should have let me kick her.”

“I should have.” Indie shook her head. “I also should’ve been more honest with Colt about how his mother treated me.

But it only started in the last few years, when I moved back here, and by then our relationship was already under stress with the IVF and him being away so much.

Plus, he worked such a dangerous job. It didn’t feel right to add to all of that. ”

“He would have lost his mind,” Clara said quietly, as they made it back to The Tea House.

“It would have killed him. He loves his mother. She’s his entire family. She’s always relied on him so much. And maybe that’s another reason I didn’t say anything.”

“Have you opened the divorce papers?” Clara asked gently.

“No. But I will. I don’t know when. But…I will.”

Clara wasn’t sure if Indie would ever feel ready. Those two had been so in love with each other.

A bit like how she felt about Holden. The way she’d thought he felt about her. But he couldn’t have. Because if he loved her the way she loved him, he would have fought for them.

Her phone vibrated with a text from her back pocket, and she pulled it out, only for her heart to give a sharp thud. “It’s Holden.”

“Another text asking to talk?”

She opened the text. “No, this time it’s just to say that he misses me.”

“Maybe…” Indie started slowly, “he realizes he made a mistake and he’ll do better next time.”

“Maybe.”

Sympathy darkened Indie’s eyes. “I’m sorry this sucks so much.”

“It does suck.” Ugly-crying, don’t-want-to-get-out-of-bed kind of suck.

They stopped at her Volkswagen Beetle in The Tea House parking lot.

“Any news on Scarlett or the hospital?” Indie asked.

A car pulled in beside Clara’s, but she ignored it. “Not since we found out it was fentanyl and morphine that killed her.”

She hadn’t seen Malcolm since she’d walked past that office and heard him arguing. But that was mostly because Jesse had basically prohibited her.

“I can’t believe patients were probably being drugged by someone who worked there,” Indie said quietly.

“I know. I still don’t think Malcolm is responsible. Scarlett must have figured out who was behind it, and it got her killed. But her laptop was taken, so unless there’s another way to figure out what she—” She stopped, a memory crashing back to her.

Indie stepped closer. “What?”

“That night she died, Scarlett was acting really strange.”

“Strange how?”

“Remember how I ran back into the house?”

“Yeah, you forgot your phone.”

“She was rummaging through the spice drawer. But there were no other ingredients on the counter. There was no cake or cookies in the fridge when I got home. No dirty bowls. I can’t believe I’m only realizing it now!”

“I don’t—”

“What if she wasn’t baking anything—what if she was hiding something? Maybe she knew someone was onto her and she needed a safe place to put something?”

“Put what?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” She turned and opened her car door, but Indie grabbed her arm.

“Clara, maybe you should call Jesse.”

“I will. I’ll call him as soon as I’ve checked the spice drawer. This might be nothing, and I don’t want to waste his time.” She gave Indie a quick hug. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

This was good. Something to focus on other than the heaviness of the last week that tried to swamp her. And maybe she’d also learn something about Scarlett’s death.

When she pulled into her driveway, her pulse sped up in anticipation of what she might find.

She sprinted to the kitchen and opened the spice drawer.

Then, one by one, she took everything out, tipping the spices onto the counter, not caring that she was going to have to replace everything or that she was making a mess.

She was halfway through when doubt started to flicker in her mind. Was she being ridiculous? Maybe Scarlett had baked something. Maybe she’d eaten it or given it away and cleaned up after herself?

She was on the verge of giving up when she lifted a jar of peppercorns. Quickly, she opened the lid and poured them out…and that’s when she saw it.

A USB.

Her breath caught. She lifted it from the kitchen counter, her pulse picking up speed.

“Scarlett…what did you find?”

She was about to call Jesse when a rustling noise sounded. From the hallway?

She turned to see her front door ajar.

The back of her neck prickled. Had she left it like that? She couldn’t remember. She’d been in a rush to search the jars, so it was possible.

She took out her phone, and with her cell in one hand and the USB in the other, she walked toward the door, pressing Jesse’s number on the way.

“Clara, hey. Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean, you’re not sure? Where are you?”

“I’m at home. I found something but I think someone’s here.”

“There’s someone in your house ?” Jesse’s voice was harder and louder now, and movement sounded over the line.

She stepped into the hall. “I’m—”

An arm suddenly wrapped around her neck from behind and pushed her into her bedroom doorframe.

She gasped, both the USB and phone dropping from her hands. She took three quick steps back, turning with each step and hitting the person behind her against the wall. The attacker grunted, and she quickly threw an elbow to their gut, nailing them in the midsection.

When their grip on her loosened, she tried to run but a body hit her full force from behind, sending them both to the floor. Her head hit the floorboard, her gaze going blurry.

An arm wrapped around her neck once again, this time pulling so tight that the air cut off in her throat.

For a second, panic rendered her completely useless.

Then her fight instinct kicked in, and she turned her head toward the person’s elbow to try to create space to breathe before grabbing at the arm around her throat.

When that wasn’t enough, she bucked her hips up and rolled so that she was on top, her back pressed to their front.

She lifted her leg and brought her foot down hard on their shin.