Stop.
She lifted her head, stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Just because Derrick wasn’t completely honest with her about the house didn’t make their life together something bad or not real. The Judge had ensured he was intimidated by her family. Probably by Finley’s career. Maybe he’d been trying to prove he had skills.
Even when you’re in one of those big meetings with all those big shots, remember no one loves you the way I do.
She closed her eyes. He’d said that to her more than once.
Reaching for her door, she decided then and there that she would give Derrick the benefit of the doubt until it was no longer possible to do so. He wasn’t here to defend himself. The least she could do was give him the benefit of the doubt.
Innocent until proven guilty.
She emerged, closed the car door, and was about to turn toward the house when she saw the lady next door. She stopped. Stared. How long had she lived in the neighborhood? She was the only person along this block well beyond childbearing age. The rest were young couples. Yuppies.
The woman stared right back at Finley. Apparently, some of her flowers required watering more than once a day. Maybe she’d gotten tired earlier and was finishing the job now. She wasn’t exactly a spring chicken.
Before Finley could question her intent, she was walking across the street. The woman continued to stare at her as if she’d expected Finley would do exactly that.
“Hi.” Finley stood on the sidewalk at the edge of her yard. “I just realized I’ve never introduced myself.”
“I know who you are.”
This close Finley could see that the woman was sixty plus. No makeup. Well-worn jeans and a tee proclaiming I’d Rather Be Gardening.
“Your name is . . . ?” Finley asked, not put off by her unfriendly attitude. Finley had never been particularly friendly to her. She hadn’t even thanked her for calling 911 that night. Couldn’t even remember her name.
“Helen Roberts.”
“Have you lived in the neighborhood long?”
“Thirty-five years. My husband bought this place when we married. Been here ever since. He passed a couple years ago.” Her fingers relaxed on the nozzle, and the spray of water stopped.
“My husband bought this house for us.” She gestured to the murder house.
“Yeah. I watched him unload his stuff. I didn’t realize he was married until you showed up a few weeks later.”
Finley blinked. Still didn’t want to believe any of that story. “Did you ever talk to him?”
Helen stared at her for a long while. “Nope. I talked to the man who owned it before. Ted. He worked on my kitchen sink once.”
“Were you surprised when Mr. Walker sold the place?”
“He was always going to sell it. He just figured he would finish his work first. But your husband came along and wanted it just as it was. Ted said he worried him to death until he agreed to sell. I guess you wanted it pretty bad.”
Finley managed a nod. Did everyone know this but her? “It was nice to meet you.”
She turned to go home.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” Helen said, stopping Finley’s escape. “Never had nothing like that happen in this neighborhood.”
Finley managed a tight nod. “Thank you. And thank you for calling for help that night.”
When the older woman said nothing more, Finley started for home again.
“He must have done something big in the backyard.”
The words followed Finley across the street. She paused on her side and turned back. “The backyard?”
Helen nodded. “He worked all hours of the night back there. I suffer with insomnia, so I sit on the porch a lot in the middle of the night. Until you moved in, he was out there every night doing something.” She smiled, but it reflected no amusement, kindness, or even remote pleasantness. Just a twitch of her lips.
“Patio,” Finley lied. “He wanted a nice patio.”
Finley dug for her keys as she strode the rest of the way to her door, then unlocked it and disappeared inside. She leaned against the door and took a breath, then another.
“What the hell were you doing, Derrick?”
She tossed her bag on the sofa and walked to the kitchen to stare out the back door. The yard was nothing but an overgrown mass of green. Not necessarily grass. More weeds, she suspected.
What on earth would he have been doing back there? The water and sewer lines were in the front yard. No patio. No shed. No nothing.
But there had to be something.