Page 72 of Skin and Bones

Hank had gone up to bed not long after Dottie, and Deidre gave me a knowing look as he headed up the stairs.

“Those two aren’t fooling anyone,” she said, shaking her head and curling up in an overstuffed chair in the living room. “Been carrying on for more than a year now.”

“What?” I asked. I was still recovering from the comment about seeing Dash without his shirt. My brain wasn’t processing the thought of Hank and Dottie sleeping in sin in my upstairs guest room.

“Girl, that widow’s veil has made you blind as a bat,” she said. “You need to yank that thing off and burn it to ashes. You’re missing out on a lot of life.”

Deidre’s words felt like a little dart to my chest. There was nothing in her tone that was malicious, but maybe there was a little too much truth in what she’d said that made me feel like squirming under her scrutiny.

Walt chose that moment to come back inside, but it was short lived because he grabbed a flashlight from the mudroom and said, “I’m going to check the shed and the alleyway. Your property is much too easy to access, Mabel. Maybe you should consider moving.”

I just sighed and went back to the dining room to sift through the papers Bea had brought over from her grandson. But not long after I’d sat down, a knock sounded at the front door. Deidre peered through the curtains and said, “It’s Mark Reynolds. I hope nothing has happened. It’s never good when the police knock on your door at night.”

“Or in the daytime,” I said, remembering the officer who’d come to tell me that Patrick had an accident on the golf course and I needed to go to the hospital. What they hadn’t told me was that he was already dead. They waited until I arrived at University Medical Center before they told me he was gone.

“Mabel?” Deidre asked. “Aren’t you going to answer the door?”

“Right,” I said, shaking myself from the memory.

“Who is it?” Deidre asked.

“It’s Deputy Reynolds,” I said, already unlocking the door. His was a face I’d grown used to seeing almost daily at the tea shop, his afternoon visits as regular as the tides.

I pulled open the door to find him in full uniform, his expression serious but kind, those pale blue eyes crinkling at the corners the way they always did.

“Deputy Reynolds,” I greeted, relief evident in my voice. After the threat and everything else that had happened, seeing a trusted face was exactly what I needed. “Is everything okay?”

“You know you can call me Mark,” he said. “Evening, Ms. Deidre.”

“Are you softening us up?” Deidre asked. “Is somebody dead? If so, you should just come out and say it. We can take it.”

Deidre came up behind me and grabbed my hand, squeezing it as hard as she could.

“Oh, no ma’am,” he said. “Nothing like that. Sheriff Beckett sent me to bring Mabel to the station.” He looked at me and said, “He needs your help identifying someone on the security footage.”

“Did he catch who broke into the evidence room?” I asked, excitement building. After all this investigation, we might finally have a break.

Reynolds nodded. “Looks that way. He figured you’d want to know.”

“He’s right about that,” I said, already reaching for my purse. This could be the breakthrough we’d been waiting for.

“I’ll go too,” Deidre said, appearing behind me in her nightclothes, her silver hair slightly mussed from leaning against the chair.

Reynolds winced and said, “Sorry, Ms. Deidre. You’re in your nightclothes and the sheriff said to make it quick.”

Deidre looked down at her pajamas and grimaced. “I guess you’re right. What about Walt?”

“I saw him when I pulled up,” Reynolds said. “Had a flashlight and what looked like a pitchfork.”

“That sounds like Walt,” I said, sharing a knowing smile with Reynolds. We’d both known Walt long enough to expect nothing less. “I won’t be long. I’ll catch a ride back with Dash so you won’t have anything to worry about.”

“We’ll wait up until you get back,” Deidre said.

“She’ll be asleep before we get down the street,” I whispered to Reynolds, making him chuckle with the familiar observation.

“I apologize for the mess,” he said as we made our way to his cruiser. “The sheriff’s got me going through all kinds of files. I’ve got boxes in the front seat. Do you mind sitting in the back?” He opened the rear door of his cruiser for me.

“Oh,” I said. “Not a problem.” I slid onto the vinyl seat. The door closed with a solid thunk behind me.

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