Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons
Page 84

“I love you too, Rose.”
I got out of the car and watched her drive away. My whole world quaked beneath me, making me question everything.
Joe and I weren’t like Violet and Mike. But how could I be sure our relationship would work? The truth was that life didn’t come with guarantees. Every decision was a risk. I just needed to make sure the odds were on my side.
Odds. I’d promised Mason Deveraux that I’d spend the night somewhere else. I’d convinced myself that it was overly cautious, but knowing Skeeter’s family had had possession of the same kind of pin found at the murder scene made me reconsider. Where was I going to go? I could stay in a motel but most wouldn’t allow dogs. Maybe Muffy could stay with Heidi Joy and her boys.
With a lump in my stomach, I knocked on their front door.
Heidi Joy answered the door, the baby on her hip. “Hi, Rose! Your pie was delicious. Thank you so much!”
“Thanks for watchin’ Muffy. Was she any trouble?”
“Oh, no! None at all. She’s curled up on the bed with the boys right now while Andy reads them a bedtime story.”
I smiled hesitantly. “Heidi Joy, I have a huge favor to ask. Do you think Muffy could spend the night with you tonight? I have to go somewhere and I can’t take her with me.”
She winked. “Got a rendezvous with that hot boyfriend of yours?”
My face caught fire. “Well…”
“Of course she can stay. The boys will love it.”
“Thank you. I’ll pick her up around lunchtime if that’s okay.”
“Have fun. But not too much fun.”
I blushed again. I only wished I was going to be having fun with Joe. Tomorrow night couldn’t get here fast enough.
I headed home, figuring out what I needed to do. Pack a bag and check into a motel. Violet had all the probate paperwork—I just needed to show up at the courthouse at ten in the morning.
How was I going to tell my sister that I was leaving Henryetta? Could I really leave her alone? Before, I thought she’d have Mike, but now she needed me more than ever. And she wanted me to go into business with her. The idea of owning a nursery had filled me with more excitement than I cared to admit.
What about Joe?
I forced the tears burning my eyes to go away. I didn’t have to make a decision tonight. Joe was coming tomorrow and I’d tell him everything. He’d help me figure out the right thing to do.
Instead, I thought about the new evidence and how it wasn’t enough to change Bruce Wayne’s case. Neely Kate had said the trial would probably be over on Wednesday. While I might have more information, I’d failed Bruce Decker. I consoled myself with Joe’s suggestion that Bruce would have gone to prison for breaking and entering anyway. Anything else I found out could be used in an appeal. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best I could do.
I unlocked the side door and turned on the kitchen light, but was greeted by darkness. I flipped the switch several times. Nothing. Déjà vu swept through me. I told myself I was being silly. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d changed the light bulb. The light was burnt out was all. Nevertheless, I hurried toward the living room, eager to get my things and get out.
I bumped into the side table in the living room and the lamp crashed to the floor. With a groan, I turned to head back to the kitchen when I saw a dark figure in the hall.
Someone was in my house.
I screamed, running for the still-open side door. The intruder was faster. He shoved me into the kitchen table and pushed the door closed.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I had to get out. Stepping backward, I threw two kitchen chairs into the center of the room. I turned and ran for the front door, the sound of screeching wood behind me. I had a good head start, but my fingers fumbled with the stiff deadbolt.
A body slammed me into the door, pushing the air from my lungs.
“I wish you’d stayed out of it.” The man growled into my ear.
My chest heaved as I fought to catch my breath. “I’m sorry! I promise I’ll stay out of it.”
“It’s too late for that.” His fingers dug into my arm and he yanked me away from the exit.
He was dressed in black and wore a hood over his head. He wasn’t much taller than me.
This was the person who killed Frank Mitchell.
Panic erupted and I instinctively tried to jerk out of his grasp.
His hold tightened and I cried out in pain. He was stronger than me, which meant I needed more than strength to get away.
“Look, I’m really sorry,” I gushed. “I don’t know anything. I don’t even know who you are. If you just leave, I won’t tell anyone.”
“It’s too late for that now.” He dragged me toward the hall and I grabbed the upholstery on the sofa, screaming. The couch scooted across the floor as he continued pulling.
His free hand hit my arms, trying to break my hold. “Let go!”
It took him several whacks before he loosened my hands. I reached around and scratched his face under the hood.
His arms dropped, freeing me. I ran for the kitchen and tripped on the chairs in the middle of the room.
“Stop!”
I threw a chair at him and lost my balance, falling into the counter. He grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked me backward.
“Help!” I screamed. “Somebody help me!” My hands skittered across the counter, seeking out any kind of weapon, and settled on a long cylindrical object.
My rolling pin.