Page 26 of Clashing Moon

Turning to me, he asked in a low voice, “What time did you find him?”

“It was five minutes to eight,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “It took us about an hour to reach him from the time we left the cabin.”

He nodded, jotting it down, then looked to Arabella. His eyes softened, and he kept his tone gentle. “I know this is difficult, but I need to ask—was there any reason he’d have gone out in the storm?”

Arabella didn’t answer at first, and I was about to tell him it could wait, but she cleared her throat and spoke barely above a whisper. “Not that I know of. He’s suffering from dementia, and his behavior is unpredictable. He’d had a rough morning, including confusing me for my mother.” She paused. Would she tell the sheriff he’d hit her?

“Tell him everything,” I said gently.

Arabella cleared her throat. “Like I said, he was having a hard morning.” She described making his breakfast and how he’d tossed it onto the floor and then hit her.

“Was this a common occurrence?” Winthrop asked.

“Do you really need to know that?” Arabella asked.

“I’m afraid so. It helps us to understand how this happened.”

She nodded. “Dr. Moon can attest to his state of mind the last few months. But yes, his violent moments were coming more frequently. It was the first time he’d mistaken me for my mother.”

“What time did you arrive, Rafferty?”

I explained the reason for my visit and the time I’d shown up. “Just to check on him, but when I got here, Arabella explained that the heater had gone out. I suggested I take a look.”

“That’s right. Rafferty and I went down to the basement to check on the furnace. The pilot light was out. When we got back to the kitchen, Dad was gone. The door was slightly ajar. I panicked. He’d wandered off before, but I’d always been able to find him. But this time, he was nowhere to be found. We scoured the property, then the barn, and then found footprints that led into the forest… but a little ways up the hill, it was like he simply vanished… I thought maybe he’d decided to go up to the cabin. He didn’t usually go up there, but he was acting so strange that it was all I could think of.”

“That’s when you headed up the mountain and into the woods?” Winthrop asked.

Arabella nodded. “We got all turned around, and we couldn’t see anything. By some miracle, I found the cabin. My dad wasn’t so lucky.”

Winthrop offered her a brief, sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Dr. Collins. I truly am. Would you like me to call the funeral home? They’ll come out and take care of everything.”

Arabella started to cry and merely nodded consent.

“May I take you inside now?” I asked her quietly. “You’ve got to be half frozen by now.”

“Not until they take him,” she said.

While we waited, McCall and Winthrop wandered around the property, presumably trying to piece together what had happened. From what I could see, we might never know.

When the funeral director arrived, I stayed by Arabella’s side while they transported Mr. Collins’s body into the hearse. When the back of the hearse closed, she clung to my arm as if her legs might give out. Even through our thick jackets, I could feel her shaking.

“I’m going to leave and give you some peace,” Winthrop said quietly to us once the preparations were complete, his tone kind but formal. “Your father was a hardworking man. Independent old cuss. They don’t make them like that anymore. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

“Can you think of nothing else to say about him?” Arabella asked softly.

“I didn’t know him well,” Winthrop said, sounding apologetic. “But he raised you, so he must have been a heck of a man.”

“Thank you,” Arabella said. “He was difficult. Hard and often cruel.” She touched her fingers to her cheek where he’d hit her the day before. “Still, he was my father. The only family I had.”

Winthrop placed a hand on her shoulder. “You have a whole town who loves you. And the Moon family, they’ll look after you.”

“I suppose they will,” Arabella murmured.

“You take care of her, Dr. Moon.”

“Will do, sir.”

Winthrop gave a final, respectful nod before signaling to the director, who murmured his gentle condolences.