Page 29 of The Drowned Woman
His tone of mock aggrievement coaxed a smile from her and she added, “Maybe Ruby’s not so bad after all.”
“It takes time,” he assured her. “You guys are practically strangers—all she sees is the girl she left behind and all you remember is who she was back then. But you’re both adults now, both changed.”
“At least I’ve grown up,” she scoffed. “Not so sure about Ruby. But she loves Emily. That much I do know.” She glanced up at him. “What really happened this morning? At the school?”
“Seriously, it was nothing. A few boys tried to gang up on Nate, then claimed he bullied them. But Em saw what was happening and she stepped in.”
“Wait. Are you saying she hit someone?” What would Ian think? It went against everything they’d ever taught Emily. “That’s not Emily; she knows better than to resort to violence.”
“Not sure I’d call it actual violence. It sounded more like she tugged a kid’s arm who was trying to get to Nate. They definitely aren’t telling us everything though. Yet. But I’ll get it out of Nate, I promise.”
She fussed at her now-cold chicken.
“Don’t worry. Emily’s fine,” he reassured her.
“I should’ve been there. Not Ruby.” She hated the bitterness that colored her tone, but now wasn’t the time to get into all the reasons why she couldn’t bring herself to fully trust Ruby. She knew Ruby would never intentionally do anything to hurt Emily. In fact, Ruby had risked her own life to save Emily last month. But a few weeks of living with her mother wasn’t enough to erase over twenty years of mistrust and resentment. Not to mention a deep-seated fear of abandonment that Leah was trying hard not to let Emily see.
“Believe me, that Ms. Driscoll would agree. The way Ruby stormed in—” He chuckled. “Reminded me of my gran. Seriously, though, she did okay, Leah.”
Leah nodded, forced herself to take another bite of her food. “How’s Nate?”
“Nate’s Nate. Shut down. Kid’s like a turtle—any sign of the slightest disturbance in his environment and he withdraws into his shell. I have no idea what to say or do to help him. And those Homan kids today weren’t any help.”
“It was the Homans?” Her jaws clicked shut, biting off what she was about to say about the sprawling clan. “I’ve treated a few in the ER.”
“Back when I was in uniform I once got called out to their place for a D&D—drunk and disorderly,” he translated, “that involved skeet shooting, only instead of throwing skeet targets into the air, they’d rigged a slingshot and were shooting at live chickens—any small living thing they could get their hands on.”
“Hope you called the SPCA on them.”
“Luckily none of the animals were hurt—they were so drunk they couldn’t figure out the concept of trajectory. Have they bothered you since you’ve moved into Nellie’s?”
“No. Guess with the bad weather, they’ve been staying home. But I hate that they’re our neighbors.” The Homan farm was over the hill, between Nellie’s place and Jericho Fields.
“Let me know if they do anything. And we should make sure the kids stay away. Believe me, Billy and Jimmy are the least dangerous of the bunch.” He took a drink of his milk, ready to change the subject. “How’d it go with Risa Saliba?”
“I’ve emailed you a copy of the interview. She backs up Harper and Krichek’s accounts of what happened with Walt.”
“Good. Should get the brass off my back. Did she say anything helpful?”
“Not about Trudy—well, maybe.” She explained about Risa’s stalker, his letters and vanishing videos and texts. “He’s obsessed with Risa. And I tell you, his letters freaked me out. I don’t understand why the police wouldn’t take her seriously.”
“She came to us?”
“Said she did.”
He slid his phone free. “When?”
“Sorry, I’m not sure. But the letters began last April.”
He dialed. “Krichek, pull any complaints filed by Risa Saliba. Forward them to me. They should all be from the last year. Thanks.”
“What if he was there, at the Falconer?” Leah asked. “Maybe he’s a suspect.”
“You think this stalker could have killed Trudy?” His tone was skeptical. “This has been going on a year, but despite being a reporter with a ton of media connections, she suddenly decides to confide in you, an absolute stranger? Why would she do that if she really believes this guy is a serial killer?”
“Because she thought it might be tied to Trudy’s death,” Leah argued.
“But you don’t know her, Leah. How do you even know the letters are legit? That she’s not sending them to herself? She’s used to being in the spotlight. Maybe with this illness, she’s using this stalker to plan a big, dramatic comeback? Would be a damn sight more likely than a serial killer deciding to share all his innermost secrets with a reporter. Hell, maybe she’s not even sick, is faking everything?”
