After stowing the food bag in the moped’s seat compartment, Nora eased the coffee cups into the dual beverage holder clamped to her handlebars. She backed out of her parking spot and slowly accelerated, keeping an eye on the coffee cups as she drove. She didn’t want to spill a precious drop.
The lot behind the station should have been deserted this early on a Saturday morning, but it wasn’t. Assuming the cars belonged to people heading to the Highland Games, the Gingerbread House and the Pink Lady Grill were in for a busy morning.
Nora parked and engaged the kickstand. She was retrieving the takeout bag from her seat compartment when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.
Morris Knapp was getting out of a car two rows behind Nora’s.
He shut his door and pressed a button on his key fob, which made the headlights on his Subaru blink as if saying hello. He then slipped the fob into his pocket and started walking toward the station.
Nora put the takeout bag on the ground and secured her helmet to her seat. She then transferred the coffees to the beverage tray Jack had given her, picked up the bag, and looked around for Morris.
He’d stopped at the end of his row because a white minivan blocked his path. The minivan hadn’t been there when Nora drove into the lot, and its sudden appearance gave her pause.
Connie Knapp slid out of the driver’s seat and raised both arms in a gesture of disbelief. Her face was red and twisted with fury. She took two steps forward and began yelling at her husband.
The minivan’s idling engine masked her words, but not her tone. Connie was beyond angry. She’d graduated to the spitting, clawing, wounding level of contempt. She hurled words at Morris like spears, and he winced as they struck him. He didn’t reply or walk away. He withstood her assault with a stiff back and a pained but resolute expression.
Without warning, Connie’s rage gave out. As she pointed from the sheriff’s department to the minivan’s rear sliding door, her mouth stretched into an oval, and she began to keen.
The sound cut through all other sounds.
Nora didn’t like Connie. Not one bit. But she couldn’t listen to the raw, shrill notes of another woman’s suffering without being moved. Of course, there was nothing she could do to help. This was between man and wife. It was not for her to interfere.
All Nora could do was will Morris to reach out for Connie—to set his anger aside and find the mercy he surely mentioned in countless prayers and sermons.
Time seemed to freeze as Nora stared at Morris and Connie, and they stared at each other.
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Connie sagged against the side of the minivan and lowered her head. Her body language signaled defeat and sorrow, and Nora didn’t think it was a ruse.
Morris raised his eyes to the station for a last, lingering glance before closing the distance between himself and his wife. Slipping his arms around Connie’s waist, he tried to lift her up, but she kept her arms pinned to her side. Her eyes were screwed closed and she kept shaking her head. But as Morris held her and murmured into her hair, she slowly raised her arms and returned his embrace.
Nora hurried away before either of the Knapps noticed her. The scene between husband and wife had left her flustered. She quickened her pace, hoping to make some sense of what she’d just witnessed.
Morris Knapp had business with the sheriff’s department, that was clear enough. What wasn’t clear was Connie’s impassioned attempts to keep her husband from going inside. She’d frantically pointed from the station to the side door of the minivan. To Nora, that sliding door represented children. The back of the van was their domain. Connie’s fury had given way to heartbreak because her husband’s visit was bound to affect their children.
Maybe Morris came to talk about his son’s crime.
Nora had been so focused on Wolf Beck and the location of Celeste’s book that she’d forgotten about Greg Knapp’s vandalism. It didn’t seem to matter much now. Greg was a confused kid who’d done a stupid thing. All kids made mistakes. Nora just hoped Greg would learn from his.
In truth, Nora felt sorry for him. He’d followed his mother’s lead, and she’d steered him wrong. His family was obviously fractured. Morris had his flock, Connie had her ambition, Greg wanted attention and praise, and Vicky longed for escape. Until she could leave for good, the young teen found that escape in books.
Thinking of Vicky reminded Nora that she owed Vicky, Steph, and Sid a special gift of gratitude. She wasn’t sure how to reward them for their incredible work on the literary portals, but she wanted to show them how much she appreciated their loyalty.