Page 134 of Dying to Meet You
A bright burst of panic washes over me.
“So,” he says, “if you’re suggesting that you always do the calm and rational thing, pardon me if I don’t quite buy it. You keep telling us that you don’t know a thing about Tim’s death. But every new development in this case brings us back to your door.”
I’m so upset that it’s difficult to speak. “I didnotshoot anyone. And I don’t know who did. I’m just an easy target.”Because Imade myselfa goddamn easy target.
“A target for who, though?”
“One of the Wincotts. They’d be at the top of my list.” I bet Hank gets updates from the police department. Maybe he even knows I’ve spoken to Laura Peebles. “Or what about Tim’s ex-wife? She knows where I live.”
“We’re in touch with all those people,” he says slowly. “We’re very thorough, and we’re moving as fast as we can.”
“Not fast enough,” I snarl. “Not when you’re still standing here suggesting I’d terrorize my own family just to get a little more of your super-fun attention.”
His expression hardens. “I see. Take care of yourself, Ms. Gallagher. And make sure you lock your doors.”
He walks off, and I’m shaking too hard to do anything but try to breathe.
Riley and my daughter join me a moment later. “We’re all set,” Riley says. “If you see anything at all that doesn’t seem right, will you take a picture of it and call me?”
“Yes,” I say automatically. But the truth is I’d think twice before calling the police. I’m so tired of being treated like a suspect. Or a crazy person.
“I’ll ask patrol to make frequent trips down your block. And I’ll look for any neighborhood footage showing someone approaching your house. But if they came through the backyard, it might be tricky. Your back fence is easy to jump.”
“Yeah. Okay.” There’s a door into our garage from the rear yard, too.
“Hang in there, Rowan.” She squeezes my upper arm.
“You’re looking into the Peebles thing, right?” I ask before she can walk away.
“What Peebles thing?” my daughter pipes up. “Wait—did you talk to her?”
Crap. “Yes. She told us a sad story and insisted on privacy.”
Natalie’s eyes widen. “But did she know what happened to Tim?”
I shake my head.
“Will you give us a minute?” Riley asks my daughter.
Natalie makes a grumpy face. “We’re going back inside,” she says, meaning her and the dog.
“If you see anything weird...” I start to say.
“Yeah, I know. Don’t touch it.”
Riley waits until she walks away. “I’m working on the adoption history,” Riley says. “But older documents take time and another court order.”
“By all means, take your time,” I snip. “Meanwhile, is it even safe for us to stay in this house?”
“Probably. We’ll step up our surveillance. But leaving the wallet on the table is a cowardly display,” Riley says. “It’s what you do when you don’t want a confrontation.”
“Right. I just hope he doesn’t change his mind about that.”
49
After the police leave, Natalie and I search the house and find nothing. Lickie follows us from room to room, wagging her tail.
“Why didn’t you take a bite out of him?” I ask my dog, ruffling the fur between her ears.
