Page 61 of Chosen Path
Her anger evaporated. Did people think she was a monster? She wasn’t vindictive or evil. She simply held people to the same high standards that she imposed on herself. There wasn’t anything nefarious about being demanding.
She made the hard decisions so they wouldn’t have to. Did the villagers feel this way about Greg, too? Or was it just her?
As the questions flew through her mind, Frank watched her, waiting for the explosion.
With great difficulty, she clenched her fists and said, “It was an honest mistake.”
Frank exhaled loudly and smiled in relief. “It really was. Thanks for understanding. And forget what I said about tampering with the mail being a crime. I can ask Dr. Hart to give the package back to me when I deliver her mail today. I’ll explain that you need—”
“No!”
He jerked back.
She softened her shoulders and repeated in a sweeter voice, “I mean, there’s no need. I’ll just pop in on my way to Pratt’s and pick it up myself.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” She smiled broadly.
“Well, if you’re positive.”
“I am. Go on now, get your route started so you aren’t late to the viewing.”
“Will do.” He practically ran into the post office as if he was afraid she’d change her mind, jump on his back, and tear out his hair. Or something much worse.
She regained her composure and checked the time. Eight-thirty. She had plenty of time to add a stop at the doctor’s office to her morning. That was the benefit of planning one’s day and building in buffer time. When something came up—say, the need to steal insulin from a doctor’s office—a person could squeeze it onto her to-do list without the need to rearrange the rest of her day.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
Officer Booth beat Molly and Bodhi to Molly’s place. She was sitting on the front porch, swaying back and forth on the porch swing, when they walked up the stairs.
“Why didn’t you tell me you walked to the funeral home? I could have given you a lift.”
“It was good to stretch our legs and clear our heads,” Bodhi told her.
And to try (and fail) to come to an agreement about how much information to share with the police, he didn’t tell her.
His view was that Molly and Hope should share everything they knew with Officer Booth. Molly was reticent to do so, and understandably.
There had been eight deaths in six months and, until now, the county police—just like everyone else in town—had turned a blind eye. And, Molly had pointed out, hadn’t Officer Booth herself leaned on Bodhi just yesterday in an attempt to get Molly to drop the issue?
Bodhi had to concede that Molly’s concerns were warranted. But, still, he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of keeping their sole ally in the dark. When they reached the house, they still hadn’t reached a consensus.
Now Molly said, “Hope would’ve let you in, you know.”
Booth smiled. “Yeah, I know. But Kimberly Dickerson is inside yapping away. I thought I’d just as soon wait out here.”
Molly tried to hide her amusement with little success. “Some police officer you are. You should’ve gone inside and rescued Hope.”
“Without backup? No way.”
Bodhi smiled at their banter, although he thought they were dangerously close to being unkind and judgmental about Kimberly. “Well, you’ve got backup now. Let’s go.”
He pushed open the door and led the charge. He didn’t have far to go. Hope and Kimberly were in the waiting room, sitting across from one another at the small coffee table. A half-full glass of water rested on a coaster in front of Kimberly. As they entered the room, Hope mouthed ‘about time,’ and Kimberly jumped to her feet.
“Kimberly, are you feeling unwell?” Molly asked.
“No, no, not at all, Doctor Hart. I was walking by on my way to the funeral home and got the idea that I should pop in and have a word with you. Imagine my surprise to find Hope poking around in your file room. She said you were running an errand with Doctor King. She didn’t mention you were with Officer Booth.” Kimberly managed not to ask what they’d been doing, but her expression practically begged them to tell her.
