Page 7 of Little Last Words

“I’d like you to try and locate her family members,” I said.

“You bet. I’ll make a cup of coffee and get right on it.”

I ended the call just as Giovanni pulled up outside. He came into the house, wrapped his arms around me, and asked how I was holding up. I said I was fine, even though I knew he wouldn’t believe me. My concern was for Sadie and what she was going through right now. I couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d seen and what she hadn’t, and whether she knew who had killed her mother.

In the gentlest of ways, I peeled the blanket back and roused Sadie from sleep. She was disoriented at first, eyeing me like she was trying to remember who I was and what I was doing in her house. As recognition set in, she asked about her mother and if she’d stopped bleeding yet.

Sadie must have found her mother in the bathtub at some point, which explained how the blood had ended up on her nightgown. I thought about the wadded-up tissues stuck to Penelope’s neck and what a child Sadie’s age might do under such a circumstance. It seemed logical that Sadie had applied the tissues to her mother’s neck, trying to stop the bleeding.

Staring at Sadie now, my heart ached.

Her first concern after waking was for her mother’s welfare—a mother who was lost to her forever.

I scooped Sadie into my arms and walked to the child’s bedroom, shifting the topic of conversation to Luka. I suggested we go to my house for a little while, and then I sweetened the deal by asking what she thought about having chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. She was uncertain at first, but with a little coaxing, she came around to the idea.

Since her mother’s blood seemed to have gotten on the nightgown and had dried, I set out a sundress for Sadie on her bed, waiting outside her room while she got changed. Then I bagged the nightgown and left it on her bed so it could be entered into evidence when the police arrived.

Hand in hand, we walked to the car, but no matter how gentle Giovanni was with her, she made it clear she wasn’t going anywhere unless I was there too. Even though I didn’t want to leave the crime scene, it was what I expected would happen. I got into the car, and the three of us took the short drive up the street to our home. I stayed for a time while Sadie got comfortable. Once she was relaxed and her attention shifted to Luka, I made my exit, telling Giovanni to give me a call the moment it seemed like she needed me.

When I arrived back at the house, a swarm of cars was parked out front. Paramedics, police officers, the forensics team, and the chief of police had all descended on the house. I checked my cell phone and noticed I had a missed call from Foley. By now, he would have realized Sadie wasn’t around, and he would have realized where I’d taken her.

A year and a half earlier, after I’d quit, Foley was given my old job. He worked as a detective for a short time and then was promoted to the county’s chief of police after the former chief of police was found guilty of murder. At the same time, he’d started dating my sister. Since then, he’d always made a concerted effort to keep things good between us, but I wasn’t naïve enough to believe he wouldn’t speak his mind about certain things. My approach to investigations being one of them.

As I made my way to the front door, I saw a man I didn’t recognize.

He was dressed in all black.

Black turtleneck, even though it was the middle of summer.

Black trousers.

Black shoes.

The shoes had been buffed to such a polished shine I could see the sky reflected in them.

The man was an older gentleman, in his early seventies, I guessed. He was tall and had a strong physique, though slender. Every strand of his thick, gray hair was in place. He looked in my direction, pushed his square, black-rimmed glasses over the ridge of his nose, crossed his arms, and spread his legs. I took it as an attempt to block me from entering the house. If it was one, it was a lapse in judgment on his part.

I knew everyone at the department, so who was this guy?

I approached, and he smiled. “Amos Whitlock, and you are …”

“Georgiana Germaine. I need to speak to Chief Foley.”

“Concerning?”

What it was concerning was none of his business.

“Excuse me, please,” I said.

He wagged a finger. “Et-et-eh … one moment.”

I waited one moment, then two, thinking he’d say something more.

He didn’t.

“You said one moment,” I said.

“You’re right. I did.”