Page 36 of The Gallagher Place
“It seems Harmon Gallagher had a detailed plan to harass your family, whether to get you to sell or out of pure spite,” Ben said.“We’ve spoken to his friends and family members, looked through his computer and belongings. The threats were just the beginning. We can assume he was planning vandalism, possibly arson.”
“We’ll need to speak to your brother Nate and his wife.” Ariel followed up Ben’s remarks. “Considering the threats directly concerning their children.”
“What?” Marlowe jerked her head toward Henry. “No one said that he mentioned the children.”
Ariel and Ben bowed their heads solemnly.
“They’re in Hartford,” Henry said. “But they’ll be up this weekend.”
“You’re sure no one noticed any strange occurrences the week leading up to Harmon’s death?” Ben asked.
“No.” Henry’s answer was immediate. “We didn’t connect the threats to discovering his body, and we assumed they were one-offs that would stop if we ignored them.”
Except for Marlowe, who’d assumed nothing, because she’d known nothing.
“Of course.” Ben glanced at Ariel, then hesitated, as if weighing his next words. “You should know that we’ve also reopened Nora Miller’s case on a provisional basis due to a recent connection with Harmon’s murder investigation.”
“What connection?” Marlowe’s voice cut through the tension. This caught everyone in the room off guard, and the three others stared quizzically at her. “I mean, don’t we have a right to know?”
“I’m sorry,” Ariel said in a conciliatory tone. “This is an ongoing investigation, which means we’re not at liberty to share every detail at this time.”
“Rest assured, we wouldn’t reopen Nora Miller’s case without cause,” Ben said hastily. “There are a number of small things, inconsistencies in the original investigation. Enough to suggest that wewouldn’t be doing our jobs if we didn’t take another, more careful look.”
“So, what? You think whoever killed Harmon—” She stopped short. “I just want to be helpful.”
Henry, silent until now, gave a slow, ponderous nod.
“I hope you find whoever is responsible for Harmon’s death and Nora’s disappearance soon,” he said. “And if you don’t find answers, I hope we can find peace.” It sounded like a line Henry had jotted down beforehand, like something he wanted to use in court for a closing statement. Do not seek answers; seek peace.
“Bringing peace to this community is our goal, Mr. Fisher,” Ariel added.
Ben moved to go, and Henry jumped up, eager to show him out. But Ariel hung back for a moment as the men filed out through the kitchen. She didn’t move closer, but something about the way she held herself—hips squared, head invitingly tilted—suggested patience. Understanding.
“Are you all right, Marlowe?”
Marlowe fought the urge to scoff. As if Ariel cared about her well-being.
“I want to know what happened to Nora,” Marlowe said. “I want to believe you’ll figure it out. But it hurts. That’s all.”
Ariel nodded, pursing her lips. The show of compassion seemed genuine, not like anything Marlowe had seen from her before. She studied Marlowe in a way that felt less like an interrogation.
“It’s not easy,” Ariel said. “Losing someone close like that. The pain is one thing, but it can also make you question your life. What you hold to be true.” She exhaled, almost like she was drawing from her own experience.
The words settled over Marlowe like a weighted blanket. They were a comfort.
Ariel let the moment stretch just long enough before shifting gears, her voice still measured.
“I was looking through Brierley’s notes. He mentioned that you and Nora liked to play tricks on the Gallaghers. He assumed they were pranks. No details, though.”
“I don’t think I gave him details,” Marlowe said. “But we did play these small pranks, moving things around. The brothers always seemed too busy to notice, and they didn’t mind us in the barn or running around the fields, as long as we kept out of their way. Nora and I played in the loft a lot.”
“Play” didn’t feel like the right word. They had mostly talked, but Marlowe didn’t want to dig up the nuances of her friendship and lay it out for Ariel to pick apart. The pranks were childish but never malicious.
Ariel didn’t push the issue. Instead, she switched tacks.
“What do you remember about Dave Gallagher’s death?”
“I was fourteen when it happened,” Marlowe started. “He died of cancer.”
