her.
A knock on the door ended the argument as a teenage girl came in. “Hey,” she said. “Are the tinies ready?”
“Hi, Amy,” Celeste said. “Just about. I’ll go get them.”
She was relieved to get out of the kitchen. She was still mad at Nate, and going upstairs to get the kids gave her a few minutes to calm down. As she’d suspected, Mary was ready to go, but Adam was in the middle of a battle involving action figures from three recent movies. It took her five minutes to get his teeth brushed and his backpack loaded.
When the three of them returned to the kitchen, she could tell that Nate had told Amy about the finding of Daniel McCloud’s body. The girl looked at Celeste with a pained expression, although she said nothing. That’s the look I’m going to see for the next couple of weeks, Celeste thought miserably.
“You guys ready?” Amy asked Adam and Mary, her voice betraying no sense of the pity Celeste had felt in her look.
The kids kissed Nate good-bye, then came to Celeste for hers. She hugged them each tightly, telling them she loved them, then watched as they followed Amy out to the car. Amy had been Nate’s idea. She was a neighbor girl, sixteen or seventeen, a junior in high school. Nate had suggested they pay her to drive Mary to preschool and Adam to kindergarten and then pick them up in the afternoon when her own school let out. That way Celeste had one less thing to do. Celeste had been hesitant at first to surrender her children to the care of someone else, but it had worked out fine, and now she was more than happy to have the extra help.
“I want to ask you something,” Nate said when they were alone. He added some sugar to his coffee and stirred it, while Celeste waited impatiently for him to actually ask the question. It was a habit of his that irritated her, and she suspected it was the same thing he did when he questioned suspects at work.
Finally he spoke again. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to kill your father?”
“No,” she said instantly.
Nate looked up at her, his eyes fixed on her face. Again she imagined what it would be like to be sitting in a chair across from him being interrogated about a crime. For a moment she forgot that she was speaking to her husband.
“I mean, I’m sure there were people who did,” she continued. “You know, people he’d arrested or made trouble for. They were always making threats. You know how that is.”
Nate nodded as he sipped his coffee. “I mean really want him dead,” he said. “So badly that they might have actually done it.”
Celeste sighed. “He never talked about that kind of stuff,” she said. “He didn’t want us to think his job was dangerous. Really, you’re probably better off asking your dad. He was his best friend.”
“I will,” Nate said. “I just thought maybe you could think of anyone Dad might not know about.”
“Like who?” asked Celeste.
“Like someone who isn’t a criminal,” Nate said. “Someone maybe nobody would think of under normal circumstances.”
Celeste shook her head. “No,” she said. “Everybody loved him.”
She drank her coffee, thinking about Nate’s question. It was true that everybody loved her father. He’d been a favorite in town, and his death had saddened just about everyone.
“Sometimes it’s not obvious,” Nate said. Celeste looked at him. “Who might want someone dead,” Nate elaborated. “Sometimes it’s the person you least expect, or someone no one even knew that the victim was associated with.”
“You know pretty much everyone in town,” Celeste reminded him. “If you know someone who wanted him dead, it’ll be news to me.”
She returned to her coffee. Could there, she wondered, be someone who hated her father so much that he wanted him dead? He or she, she corrected herself. It doesn’t have to be a man.
Suddenly her blood turned cold. Her fingers gripped the coffee mug tightly, and she couldn’t even swallow what was in her mouth. It was as if her muscles had frozen and she were paralyzed. But her brain continued to function, and as it did a scene played out in her mind. It was one she hadn’t thought of in a long time. Now it returned in startling clarity.
No, she told herself. That has nothing to do with this.
It couldn’t. It simply wasn’t possible. Yet the more times she replayed the memory, the more she couldn’t help but wonder. What if it did happen that way? she asked herself. The idea was too terrible to even consider.
Just as suddenly as it had come upon her, the paralysis left. She swallowed the coffee and blinked her eyes. Across from her, Nate had resumed reading the paper. He hadn’t seen the moment, didn’t know what was running through her head.
She struggled with whether she should tell him what she was thinking. Part of her wanted to. But another part told her to keep her secrets to herself. It would just cause a lot of trouble, she argued with herself. And you know that’s not what happened.
She wanted to believe that. Oh, how she wanted to believe it. But she had seen something. And if that something was related to her father’s death, didn’t she owe it to him to tell Nate?
Nate put the paper down. “I should get to the station,” he said, standing up. “You’re going to your mom’s, right?”
Celeste nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ll be over there.”
Nate came around the table and kissed her. “It’s going to be all right,” he said. “I promise. Try not to worry.”
“I know it will,” said Celeste. “I just worry about Mom.”
“Well, this is a big shock for her,” Nate reminded her. “For all of us. Just give her time.”
“You’re right,” Celeste agreed.
“I’ll call you later,” Nate told her as he picked up his hat and jacket and walked out. “If you need me, you know how to get me.”
“Just dial 9-1-1,” Celeste repeated automatically. It was their little joke, one that still made Nate laugh whenever she said it.
Celeste listened for the sound of the car door shutting, then the engine turning over. She didn’t move from her spot as Nate pulled out of the driveway. For a long time she remained still, the coffee growing cold in the cup. Her thoughts were haunted by the memory dredged up by Nate’s question.
“You’re right,” she said as if Nate were still at the table. “It’s a big shock. To all of us.”
CHAPTER 10
1983
Celeste looked at her watch. It was almost two in the morning.
They’re going to kill me, she thought as she eased open the front door, praying that it wouldn’t squeak and betray her arrival. They almost never used the front door, preferring the one in the kitchen, and she’d chosen it because it was closer to the stairs. With a little luck she could make it upstairs without anyone seeing her. Probably everyone would be asleep anyway, but her father sometimes kept odd hours. And he was the one she least wanted to run into.
To her immense relief the door hinges didn’t squeak. She peered inside and, finding the living room empty, slipped inside and gently pushed the door shut behind her. She had a clear shot to the stairs, and had one foot on the lowest step when she heard someone say, “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
It was her mother’s voice, angry and clear. Celeste turned, ready with an excuse, but found herself looking at empty space. Her mother wasn’t in the room.
“Well?” She heard the voice again. This time, having had a moment to collect herself, Celeste realized that it was coming from the kitchen.
“You