Harriet went through the door the tech held open for her then down the short hall to the converted storeroom. The tech brought in a space heater and plugged it into an extension cord that trailed down the hall and out the back door.
“You’re lucky it’s an ‘on’ hour,” she said as she flicked the heater’s power switch. Aiden came in a few minutes later, Scooter in one hand, a fuzzy lap pad in the other. He deposited both in Harriet’s lap and turned to leave.
“Wait,” she said. “Can’t you stay and talk a minute?”
“I’ve got work to do,” he said, opening the door, then hesitating.
“Please,” she said in a quiet voice.
“There’s no point,” he told her without turning back around.
“Can’t you at least tell me what’s going on?”
“If I talk about it, you’ll try to tell me I’m wrong, and then we’ll argue and I don’t want to remember us that way.”
Harriet could feel the heat rising up her neck, flushing her face.
“Remember us?” she snapped, her voice rising. “I have no say in this matter? You’ve just decided we’re done, and I don’t even get to know why?”
She stood and put Scooter and his pad down in her chair then grabbed Aiden’s arm and spun him around. She started to speak, but hesitated when she saw the pain etched into the lines of his face.
“Please,” she pleaded. “Talk to me,”
“It won’t change anything,” he said, letting the door shut.
“What sort of lies is your sister filling your head with?”
“My sister is not telling me lies. She’s just helped me see things more clearly.”
“Are you sure that’s what she’s doing? Helping you? Think about it. When has she ever helped you?”
“I know my sister is greedy and self-centered, but that doesn’t mean she’s wrong about this. She knows our family, and more important, she knows me.”
Every fiber of Harriet’s being was screaming out that she knew Michelle was conning him because Carla had heard them, and Aunt Beth and Mavis had told her the truth, and she was certain Michelle had faked her proof, but she couldn’t betray Carla so she kept her mouth shut.
“Can’t we talk about it,” she pleaded, “and figure out together if we should keep seeing each other?”
Aiden jerked his arm free.
“There’s nothing to discuss. I’m sorry things didn’t work out. You tried to tell me all along we shouldn’t be a couple, and now I agree. Just let Shannon know when you’re done with Scooter.”
“Wait”…
He opened the door.
“Good-bye, Harriet.”
Tear filled her eyes as she picked Scooter up and put him and his blanket in her lap again. The little dog licked her face, his tail wagging his whole body. He did his best to charm her. He tried to chew on her earring; he pawed at her fingers until she petted his head. And he sneezed repeatedly if she stopped talking to him for more than a minute.
“If you’re trying to distract me, it’s working,” she told her little companion. “Maybe you’re the only man I need in my life-well, besides your feline brother Fred. I bet you’ll never leave me without notice or reason.”
Scooter licked her face again then began barking at the sound of a knock on the door.
“Come in,” she called when the door didn’t open immediately.
It was Shannon.
“I just wanted to let you know it’s time to turn the generator off again. It’s going to get cold in here. We have microwave heating pads in the animal cages that will retain the heat for an hour, so I’m afraid this little guy needs to go back.”
Harriet glanced at her watch and was surprised to see her hour was almost up.
“My ride is going to be here any minute anyway. Thanks for taking such good care of Scooter.”
“No problem,” Shannon said with a smile. Harriet didn’t know if the young woman had heard any of her discussion with Aiden, but her slightly awkward manner suggested she had.
She waited until Shannon and Scooter had left the room then put her coat on and walked out through the reception area and into the cold parking lot. Jorge’s pickup was parked at the side of the road, across the street from the clinic.
“How did it go?” Lauren asked when Harriet got into the truck.
“Let her be,” Jorge said when he saw Harriet’s face. “Is there anywhere you’d like to go? We’ve got about thirty minutes before we need to pick up the detective.”
“How’s that going to work?” Harriet asked. “I mean, where’s she going to sit?”
Lauren answered for him.
“I had the same question, but it turns out there are two little seats in back that face each other and have seatbelts and everything.”
“We could swing by the homeless camp,” Harriet said. “According to Morse, the paramedics took the bodies away, and Darcy was supposed to be trying to collect evidence. Maybe she’s still there.”
“The park it is, then,” Jorge said and turned the truck toward Fogg Park.
“Aiden is being totally dumb,” Harriet said, answering Lauren’s earlier question. “I can’t believe he’s willing to listen to his sister’s nonsense. I mean, what if his mother was a murderer, and his uncle, too? It doesn’t make sense for him to just give up his life and go hide in Africa, does it? Does that make sense to anyone?”
“If your family was psychopathic serial killers, wouldn’t that give you just a little pause,” Lauren asked. “I mean, wouldn’t you at least wonder if you were capable of turning into a killer?”
“But the very fact he would worry enough to want to break up and leave means he couldn’t be a psychopath.”
“Oh, so now you’re an expert on criminal behavior?” Lauren asked. “You see it on TV all the time-serial killer lived on our street and we never suspected anything, he was married with two-point-four kids.”
“And of course everything you see on the television is true.”
“As true as-”
“Ladies,” Jorge said, cutting Lauren off. “We’re here,”
He stopped near the restroom building. A red Jeep sat sideways across two parking spots, the back hatch open. Darcy was here.
Harriet got out of the truck; she zipped her coat as a slow rain started falling.
“I’m going to see Señora Joyce,” Jorge said and headed for the trail.
“Darcy?” Harriet called out as she and Lauren headed toward the restroom door.
“In here,” Darcy answered from the men’s side. “Don’t come all the way in.”
“How’s it going?” Harriet asked from just outside the door.
“I’m not getting much done on that quilt I’m making for my niece,” she said. “Hopefully, I can still get it done in time for Christmas.”
“I’ll hold a spot for you if you want me to quilt it,” Harriet offered.
“Of course I do,” Darcy said. “I don’t quilt anything bigger than a table runner on my own sewing machine anymore.”
“When the power comes back, call me with your best guess on timing, and I’ll put you on the schedule.”
“Thanks, I will.”
“Are you finding anything?”
Darcy was in the stall, paper booties covering her feet, a large black camera in her hands. She focused the lens and snapped a rapid succession of pictures.
“You know I couldn’t tell you if I did. But I can tell you this-the scene was compromised. Not only from people coming in to look at the vic, but a lot of fine debris blows into the bathroom through the vents during this type of storm.” She pointed up at a series of screened openings above each stall.
“It doesn’t look like anyone disturbed the body before the paramedics got here, but who knows. I’ll have to compare my pictures with the ones they took and see what story they all tell us.”
“I didn’t see any footprints when I came in here the first day,” Harriet offered.