“He’d hidden them in a dresser drawer. They were all unopened. There were eight bottles of antidepressants. He hadn’t been taking his medication in at least six months.”
* * * * *
11:31 A.M.
“Is that who I think it is?” Jonathon growled as he pulled to a stop outside Donna Karl’s house.
“Yep,” Allina agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Jonathon was at least glad that his predicament with Clara was distracting his partner enough to get her to smile. He was also glad that she had finally told him about her sister-in-law. And it certainly explained her distance and the weariness in her eyes that she tried so hard to hide. Jonathon couldn’t imagine living for three minutes—let alone three years—with the knowledge that someone you loved was either dead or suffering horrendously. But despite his partner’s amusement, his displeasure at seeing Clara leaving Tommy’s mother’s house wasn't of a personal nature but rather a professional one. He didn’t want her meddling with his investigation.
As soon as he’d parked, he bounded from the car, storming toward Clara and her sister.
“Think before you speak,” Allina warned quietly as she followed him.
The sight of Clara, upon reaching her, put a slight dent in his anger. She was too pale, and her eyes were dull. Still, he couldn’t help snapping, “I don’t like you interfering with my case.”
The dullness left her eyes, anger taking its place. “I won't stop,” she all but pouted. “You're trying to prove that Tommy is a killer, but he’s not. And I won't stop until I prove you wrong.”
“Thomasisa killer. One of the officers he shot died,” he informed her softly.
Clara looked stricken and staggered backward. Concerned she might collapse, Jonathon reached for her, but her sister grabbed her first.
“Not your fault, Clara,” Naomi insisted.
Her devastated green eyes looked up at him. “What was his name? How old was he? Did he have a wife? Kids?”
Naomi muttered something about Clara torturing herself, but Jonathon wasn't listening—he was debating whether to answer Clara’s questions. He decided he would; perhaps if she accepted Thomas was capable of violence, she would let go of this notion of attempting to prove his innocence. “His name was Martin Hine. He was married with two adult kids and four grandchildren. He was a month away from retiring.”
She absorbed this, her eyes full of pain but her voice was even when she spoke, “I’m sorry Tommy did that. I’m sorry that I didn’t warn you as soon as I got out of the car.” She waved him off when he would have reminded her that she’d been injured and in shock. “I don’t know why Tommy did that, but I do know that he would never abduct and kill children.”
“You're free to think whatever you want; just don’t put yourself in the middle of my investigation,” he ordered. He wanted to be more understanding; he knew that Thomas was her friend. He knew she was grieving him, and he knew she was still shaken up by the carjacking. But she’d upset him by turning down his offer of dinner, and as such, his feelings toward her were too churned up at the moment. It was best to just keep his focus on the case. “What did Mrs. Karl say to you?”
“Nothing,” Clara answered quickly. Too quickly. She was clearly lying—it was written all over her face.
“What did she say?” he repeated, frustration making him enunciate each word.
“We just talked about the funeral. Tommy doesn’t have many friends, and other than his mother, there are only a few distant cousins. I didn’t want his mother to have to deal with making all the arrangements on her own. She hasn’t been well, so I came over to discuss what she wanted for the funeral.”
He doubted that was all that had been discussed, but for now, he let it go. “I mean it, Clara—stay away from anything related to this case. If you're right and Thomas had nothing to do with this, then we’ll find that out. We’re not out to frame anyone; we want to find who’s started up the doll murders and put a stop to it. Now go home, get some rest; you look tired. You do, too,” he told Naomi, who he could have sworn was fighting the urge to poke her tongue out at him.
Ready to dismiss the sisters and get on to interviewing Thomas’ mother, he was turning his back on them when he noticed Naomi give Clara a nudge. “Jonathon, wait.”
Suspicious, he asked, “What?”
“Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone.” Clara shot a pointed glance at Allina.
“I’ll just check my phone.” Allina walked a short distance away.
Naomi too had left them alone, and Jonathon wondered whether Clara intended to try and convince him to leave Thomas’ mother alone. “Look, Clara, I know you—”
“I changed my mind,” she blurted out.
The words he’d said to her the day before floated through his head, but he didn’t want to make the mistake of jumping to conclusions—he needed to hear her spell it out. “Oh?” was all he said.
“I shouldn’t have said no when you asked me out. I agree that there’s a spark between us, and I’d like to see where it leads. So, if your invitation to dinner still stands, then I accept.”
Jonathon was almost tempted to make her squirm a little, but the nervousness that was rolling off her in waves stopped him. Smiling, he reached for her hand. His day had suddenly improved dramatically. He’d hoped she’d change her mind—suspected she might—but he hadn’t expected her to do it so quickly. “Of course the offer still stands, and I'm delighted you accepted. Let’s try for tonight.”