My mind was moving so fast now that I could hardly track the thoughts. They were one huge storm in my head.
That night, you were home. With Eamon and Annie. Just the three of you.
Esther’s frantic words rang in my skull.
“Where did you go after the Faire, June?” Caleb pressed.
“We were home. The three of us. All night.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed again. I’d said something wrong. “You went home together?”
“Yes,” I said, too loudly.
Caleb and Sam met eyes across the room, and I bit down so hard that my teeth ached. I’d messed up somewhere, but I didn’t know how. I was stumbling in the dark, Esther’s incomplete instructions and the few articles I’d read the only things lighting my path.
“That’s not exactly what you told us last time.”
I smiled, but it felt misshapen on my face. “It’s not?”
“No.”
Caleb gestured to Sam, who moved away from the wall, reaching for the machine on the table in the corner. He pressed the button, and the tables started turning. A scratching buzz sounded in the silence, and all the air left my lungs when I heard it.
My voice.
“。 . . maybe about five?” A pause. “I had to be there early to help Esther.”
My vision tilted just a little, the room around me tipping to one side and making me feel like I was going to fall out of the chair. There was no mistaking that it was me. My voice. The one trapped in my throat, ready to scream.
“What did you do at the Faire?” It was Caleb’s voice now. It sounded even deeper on the tape.
“We walked around awhile, danced, listened to the band.”
“I see. And did you leave together?” Caleb again.
“No.”
My stomach dropped. That was what had prompted the look on Caleb’s face. I’d deviated from the story.
“Percy came and found Eamon to let him know Callie had gotten out of the fence again, so he went home.”
“And then?”
“Annie and I followed a little while later.”
“And how did you get home?”
“We rode to the flower farm with Esther, and then we walked from there.”
Sam pressed the button on the machine again and the buzz of the recording cut out, leaving us in silence.
Caleb looked at me, waiting for an explanation.
“That’s right.” I tried not to sound as terrified as I was. “I’d forgotten that he left early.”
“You forgot,” Caleb echoed.
“It was a year ago,” I said. “Didn’t seem like an important detail at the time.”
“I’m afraid that every detail is important when you’re investigating a murder.” Caleb reached for the box on the table, sliding it toward him.
I held my breath as he opened it.
His hand disappeared into the box, and I heard the rustle of plastic before he lifted out what was inside. It was a bundle of something I couldn’t make out.
“Mimi Granger came forward to tell us she saw you that night.”
My brow furrowed. Granger. Somehow, I knew that name.
“She said she saw you running through her west pasture.” He pulled a sheet of paper from inside the folder, setting it down in front of him.
“。 . . running across the field, that baby in her arms, and I could have sworn she had blood on her dress.” He read the statement aloud. “I remember, because when she got to the road, she was wearing only one shoe. One blue shoe.”
The edges of my vision wavered as a rush of cold came over me. The sound of water drowned out Caleb’s words, a pricking dancing on my skin. From the corner of my eye, I thought I could see that field, rolling waves of gold that stretched to the black tar road. I could hear breathing, a ragged sound coming from my own mouth.
In a panic, I pushed the memory away before it could suck my mind in, focusing my eyes on the recorder that sat on the table. Caleb’s voice came back to me slowly, the vision bleeding away.
He looked up from the page. “Now, that’s a pretty specific detail, but there aren’t too many folks around here who would put much stock into one of Mimi Granger’s stories.”
I suddenly placed the name. Granger was the name on that mailbox—the one in front of the house off the river road. The day I’d come through the door, the woman on the porch had seen me. I still remembered that horrified look on her face.
There was still a glimmer in the room, my surroundings like rippling water. The scene around me was threatening to give way to the rush of the memory.
“Hell, she’s drunk half the time, and that’s why I didn’t worry too much about it.” He said.
I could hear the but coming, riding ahead of the words.
“But I have to do my due diligence, don’t I? And just when I went to clear it with you and your timeline of that night, you up and disappeared to Norfolk,” he said. “Now, I’m a patient man, so I figured I’d wait until we could clear all this up. Then months went by, and you never came home. And all of a sudden, a few weeks ago—” He reached for the lump of plastic, unrolling it. “Mimi came barging in here with this.”
I leaned forward as the plastic came free, revealing a blue slip-on shoe caked with dried mud. A fabric buckle was fixed to one side. He set it down in the center of the table, and it took every ounce of composure I could muster not to recoil from it. I recognized it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was certain it was mine.
“Apparently, it got stuck in one of the forks of the tedder when they were cutting the west field and baling hay.”
If there was anything to say now, I didn’t know what it was. This wasn’t just fitting the pieces together. He was trying to fit the pieces around me.
That fear in Eamon’s eyes wasn’t just about his wife and the entire life she’d burned down when she left this place. It was about the minister. About the night he died.
“You told me that you didn’t have a pair of blue shoes. Is that right?”
“That’s right.” I didn’t hesitate, not wanting to risk even the slightest chance it would inflame his suspicion. All I could do was bank on whatever I’d told him last time.
He nodded. “All right. Is there any reason why Mimi would think she saw you that night? Or why she thought you were covered in blood?”
If I’d walked home from Esther’s, I wouldn’t cut through that field. I’d walk the path along the river.
“No. I don’t know what she saw, but it wasn’t me.”
He folded his hands patiently. “Look, June. I’m not fool enough to believe that a little thing like you could kill a full-grown man with your bare hands. I am, however, inclined to think that a loving wife would protect her husband at any cost.”
My lips parted as his meaning sunk in. It wasn’t me he was after. It was Eamon.
A frantic knock sounded at the door, and Sam sprung forward, opening it. A man I couldn’t see stood on the other side.
“We’ve got a problem out here. Eamon just showed up.”
Tears filled my eyes, my lungs finally expanding. I resisted the urge to stand from the chair, hands twisting into my skirt. I could hear shouting down the hall and the familiar accent-laced rasp of Eamon’s voice found me.