Page 14 of The Gallagher Place
“I beat Kat in every race,” Dolly said. “Except when I wiped out.”
Dolly cackled with her mouth open, revealing her chewed-up chicken.
Children were the center of their own universe, and their unwavering belief consumed everyone else. It was so easy to talk of nothing but them.
Glory speared a potato and held it in front of her. “A bit firm this time, Stephanie,” she said. “And what’s that, rosemary?”
“Rosemary, yes.” Stephanie forced a smile. “And I guess I pulled them out a little early. There’s always a trick when you’re not in your own kitchen.”
“Tastes fine to me, hon,” Nate chimed in with a mouthful. “Lots to be grateful for around this table.”
The stilted exchange caused Enzo to perk up. “That’s right, Nate,” he said. “Having a wonderful meal with family like this is what gives meaning to life.” Glory immediately softened. Enzo had a special gift for playing peacekeeper and putting the Fisher matriarch at ease. Marlowe pushed food around on her plate, eager for the meal and her family’s playacting to end. There were questions she needed to ask as soon as the children were out of earshot.
After the dishes had been washed and cleared, the kids went off to watch a movie with Stephanie and Constance. Frank and Glory drifted up to their room. Henry helped Enzo up the old staircase to his bedroom and then returned to the kitchen.
Only then was it silent. Nate walked over to the cabinet and pulled out the scotch and three glasses. Marlowe instinctively grabbed a tray of ice cubes out of the freezer and filled each glass halfway.
Each with a scotch in hand, they walked to the living room. Henry sat in the same armchair he’d been in that afternoon, Marlowe in the one Enzo had claimed earlier. Nate dragged a chair over from the table and set it close to the fireplace.
Marlowe took a long drink, savoring the burn in her throat. “What was going on earlier in the study?”
“We’re considering how to deal with this,” Nate said. “It’s nothing to worry about; we just know how people will dig up old rumors.”
“Rumors about what?” Marlowe asked.
“The Gallaghers. Us.” Nate waved his hand. “Harmon might have been more disturbed than we realized. We think he was sending us anonymous threats.”
“What?” Marlowe blinked in surprise and turned to Henry, who didn’t look shocked.
“Stephanie got these messages sent to her work email,” Nate said. “She didn’t think too much of them at the time, but then a few notes came to the house.”
“What did they say?” Marlowe was almost lunging at Nate for an answer.
“You’ll pay for what you’ve done.” Nate frowned as he recited the phrase. For half a second, Marlowe thought he was speaking directly to her, and she recoiled before realizing Nate was quoting Harmon. “He sent one that said, ‘Your house will burn with you and your family in it.’”
“He put that in anemail?”
The past twenty-four hours rattled and shifted. What had looked like bad luck—Harmon being in the wrong place at the wrong time—now turned sour with intention. He had been out there for a reason. He’d been sitting in the darkness, plotting against Marlowe’s family, and someone had gone out and found him there. Confronted his vitriolic anger.
“He wasn’t exactly a mastermind,” Nate remarked. “We still aren’t one hundred percent sure that it was him, but that’s what we assumed. He was unhappy and reckless, not a real threat. We figured it would all blow over with a little time.”
“I got a letter too,” Henry said. “Vague threats, blackmail.”
Marlowe nearly dropped her glass.
“Blackmailing with what information?” Marlowe jerked her head back and forth between her brothers.
“He was just trying to scare us, Mar.” Nate spoke as if he had it all sorted out and almost found it boring. If it was an act of superiority, it was a good one. He had always possessed that talent. “He wanted the land, but Dad wouldn’t sell. So maybe he figured the threat of arson or vandalism would spook us into leaving. Mom and Dad got some strange emails too.”
“I didn’t.” Marlowe sounded plaintive. A surprising feeling of jealousy started to well up. She had been at the center of this house and its stories for years, and yet everyone was being contacted except for her.
“It was nothing,” Nate said brusquely. “We told the detectives about it today. Now it’s on them to piece together the extent of his lunacy. He probably picked fights with a lot of people around here.”
Marlowe recalled the friendly smile from the photo online. What if Harmon hadn’t picked fights with anyone else, just the Fishers? It would look bad that her family hadn’t mentioned anything about anonymous threats the day before or reported them when they originally occurred. Marlowe had watched enough crime dramas to understand that something like this could establish a motive. That explained the hours in the study. Nate and Frank had been putting the whole story together, wrapped up with clear reasoning, before handing it over to the detectives.
“What did he mean by saying we’ll pay for what we’ve done?” Marlowe asked.
“Who knows?” Nate said. “The guy was a loon.”
