I stumble over a recliner with the footrest still up, then make it to the kitchen. “Find anything?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t think she’s bedfast like she claims. She’d have to get around pretty well to keep some of this stuff on top shelves.”
“She probably has a housekeeper.”
“True. How about you? Anything?”
“Way too many pictures of Caroline.” I open a cupboard by the fridge. I try to imagine how the murder might have taken place. “She pretends she can’t get out of that wheelchair, but she can. So maybe she got up early that morning. She could have had a blowout argument with her husband-about money, or about those checks to Rita, or a million other things married people argue over. She makes her way to the barn. Jeremy’s bat was there, so she grabbed it.” I’m picturing the whole thing: Caroline in a cotton nightgown, pink flowers and white lace. She’s screaming at her husband. She sees the bat, lunges for it, and-
“Hope, we have to finish up and get out of here.”
Chase is right. I need evidence. “I’ll take the den we passed when we came in. You take the bedroom. Check the bottoms of her shoes!” I cross back through the living room to the den, or study.
Before I reach the desk, Chase cries, “They’re back!”
I hear gravel crunch in the driveway. The sound of a car engine is drowned out by brakes. The engine cuts off.
“Great,” Chase mutters.
Please! I’m not sure if it’s a prayer or a wish. I grab Chase’s hand and pull him to the back door.
“What are you doing?” He tries to tug his hand away, but I hold on.
“Quiet!” I stumble and bump into the couch. It hurts my hip, but I keep going until we’re outside. I shut the door, then the screen. Reaching up, I straighten a lock of Chase’s hair, then smooth my own. “Let me do the talking.”
“Why? Hope, what-?”
I shush him and wait.
A car door slams. And another.
Part of me wants to run and hide. But Chase’s car sits six feet away in plain sight. I hear their footsteps on the front porch. A blend of voices. The front door being unlocked. Opened. They’re inside.
I haven’t let go of Chase’s hand. With another wordless prayer, the kind I may have inherited from Jeremy, I reach up and knock on the screen door, hard.
“Hope?” Chase whispers.
I ignore him and keep banging on the door, my heart thudding against my chest with every knock. “Hello? Anybody home?” I open the screen and bang even harder on the door, shouting, “Yoo-hoo! Mrs. Johnson?”
I hear footsteps storm through the house toward us. The back door opens, and Sheriff Wells frowns down at us. “What in blue Hades are you two doing here?”
Chase opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. “Sheriff Wells? I was starting to think nobody was home.”
He ignores me. “Answer me, Chase! What are you doing here?”
“Don’t be mad, Dad. We just-”
“We just wanted to ask Mrs. Johnson a couple of questions.” Somehow, my voice is strong, friendly even.
“You what?” Sheriff Wells shouts. He glances back over his shoulder, then lowers his voice. “I can’t believe you’re this stupid.”
Chase flinches.
“We didn’t mean to cause anybody trouble,” I say reasonably. “It’s just that Mrs. Johnson said some things in court today that hurt Jeremy, and I thought if I could just talk to her for a minute-”
Sheriff Wells glares at me. “You want to ask her questions? Hasn’t your family done enough?”
“Dad!” Chase steps in front of me, like he thinks his dad might come after me. I wouldn’t be surprised. He looks mad enough to spit nails.
The sheriff takes a deep breath, sucking in anger through his teeth. “Look, miss, I have nothing against you. But you better leave this poor woman alone.”
“Poor woman?” I’d like to tell him what I really think about this poor woman.
He turns to me, and if looks could kill, the sheriff would be on trial for murder. “I just came from the doctor with her. Mrs. Johnson isn’t expected to live out the year. So you can tell your brother’s lawyer that she won’t be around long enough to collect that insurance money, much less spend it.”
In spite of everything, and even though I don’t want to, I feel sad for her. I wonder how long she’s known.
The sheriff straight-arms Chase in the shoulder, knocking him back a step. Then he turns to me. His bushy eyebrows meet above his nose, and his upper lip curls to show teeth. “You kids leave it alone, you hear? Leave it alone! ”
“We hear, Dad,” Chase says. He takes my hand and tugs me toward the car.
I let him. I let him because suddenly cold fear is slicing through me like sharp knives.
We drive a long way in silence, leaving the barn and the Johnson house behind us. A couple of times, I glance over at Chase, but it’s like he doesn’t even know I’m in the car with him. That’s how far away he seems. His forehead is wrinkled, and every now and then he rolls his lips over his teeth and makes a weird noise, almost like he’s fighting himself. I’d give a lot to know what’s going on inside his head, but I’m afraid to ask.
Finally, Chase speaks without looking at me. “My dad’s right, you know.”
“Right about what?”
“She didn’t do it.”
“Mrs. Johnson? Of course she did it! We just didn’t have time to-”
But he’s shaking his head and won’t let me finish. “To what? Find some kind of smoking gun? The police already have the weapon. And that woman, no matter how nasty she is to your brother, didn’t kill anybody. She’s dying, Hope. You heard what they said.”
“Maybe she’s not dying. Maybe she paid the doctor to-”
“Don’t even go there. This isn’t some big conspiracy, with the doctors and my dad and Mrs. Johnson all in on it together.”
“I didn’t say it was. But she’s the one with a motive-the only one with a motive.”
“The only one? How about Rita? Or Bob? Or T.J.?”
I don’t know why he’s so angry. “I can’t believe any of them would have killed Coach and let Jeremy be blamed for it.”
“Fine. If you can’t believe it, then I guess it isn’t true.” His sarcasm stings. “So get Jeremy’s attorney to use Mrs. Johnson for reasonable doubt, but I’m telling you nobody’s going to believe she did it for the insurance money. Why would she? You heard my dad. She won’t be around to spend any of it. And all you’re doing is ruining the little time she has left. But don’t listen to me. You won’t listen to anybody anyway.”
My throat burns. I don’t know what I did to make him so angry, why he’s changed on me all of a sudden. “Why are you doing this?” My voice sounds like I’ve swallowed sand.
“Enough is enough, Hope. Dad’s right. We’ve done enough.”
“I haven’t done enough until I get Jeremy out of prison!”
“Don’t shout at me.”
I hadn’t realized I was shouting. I take a deep breath. I hate this. We’ve been so close, so together in everything. “Chase, what is it? Is it your dad? Are you afraid of what he’ll do when you both get home?”
“Yeah, I am.” He glares over at me, and for a second he doesn’t look like Chase. His green eyes are black. He has his father’s mouth. “He’s really mad, Hope. And maybe he’s got good reason. I don’t know what he’ll do this time. Just be glad you don’t have to go home to him.”
“Right. Because I have it so much better going home to Rita.”
“You don’t understand how good you’ve got it having a mother who doesn’t care, instead of too many parents who care too much.”
That hurts. I know Rita doesn’t care, but it stings to hear Chase say it. I sting back. “Fine. I didn’t realize you were so scared of Sheriff Daddy. Just take me home.”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
We don’t speak until he pulls up in front of my house. I pop the seat belt before he comes to a stop. I’m so mad that I’m fighting tears. “Thanks for the ride,” I mutter.
“Don’t mention it.”
“I won’t. Don’t worry.” I slam the door and stomp up the sidewalk.
Then I wheel around. “I was doing all right taking care of Jeremy on my own. I don’t need you, or T.J., or anybody else to help me now! It’s always been just me and Jeremy. I should have known better than to-” A lump fills my throat and blocks the words. So I turn and run into the house, slamming the door behind me.