The Sister-in-Law, Pamela Crane [have you read this book txt] 📗

the scene where the only witness we had was killed. I know it’s hard to imagine an elderly lady killer, but you’d be surprised what people can do when they’re put in a corner.’ Hefting the bag strap over his shoulder, Detective Meltzer rose from the sofa and moved toward the door. ‘I’m sorry to tell you this, but the evidence is enough to make an arrest.’

This was getting out of hand. My mother couldn’t go to jail for something she hadn’t done. I wanted to tell the detective everything, that Ben hadn’t been murdered, that he had committed suicide. My mother didn’t know that Harper and I were there that night, so she had nothing to gain in killing Michelle Hudson. But then why was her necklace at Michelle’s house?

No, it was better not to say anything until I talked to Harper in private.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ the detective said as Harper led him out the door.

‘Should I call Mom to warn her?’ Harper asked me.

‘No, we can’t do anything that will piss off the cops. We need to cooperate for now.’

I considered all the knowns and unknowns. Ben had screwed over a lot more people than I had realized, including my mother, who vocally hated him. Could she have hated him enough to kill him? Then Michelle Hudson turns up dead, the only person who had seen anything, with my mother’s necklace at the scene. Add Ben’s mistress beneficiary to the mix, and it led me in circles. Medea Kent could have been connected, but apparently she ‘checked out,’ whatever that meant.

The steps creaked as Candace came downstairs. ‘Everything okay?’

‘No, not really. That was Detective Meltzer. My mom’s been arrested for Michelle Hudson’s murder. I’m going to have to hire an attorney and figure out how to get my mom out of this mess.’

‘Oh my God, Lane. I’m so sorry. Anything I can do to help?’

‘Do you know how to get out of murder charges?’

‘No, but I know how to give a good hug.’ Candace pulled me into her arms, tucking her head under my chin. I kissed the top of her head, noticing that her hair was dry.

‘What happened to your shower?’ I asked.

‘I got sidetracked with checking my email.’ Leaning back, Candace gazed up at me. ‘Hey, everything will be fine. Okay?’

I nodded, while all kinds of thoughts swirled together as I mentally grabbed at scenarios and facts and conversations, until one thought in particular struck me from behind. I had never told Candace Kira’s name, and Harper was tight-lipped about it with anyone she didn’t trust. I couldn’t imagine Harper sharing something so painful and personal with a woman she loathed. If neither of us had told her Kira’s name, who did?

Chapter 32

Harper

After Detective Meltzer left, Lane headed to the police station to deal with my mother’s arrest while I waited at home until it was time to pick up the kids from school. As much as I wanted to support Mom, I couldn’t go down to the station again. It was the last place I wanted to be, facing my likely fate behind bars. I had dealt with enough police and attorneys in the past year; it was time for Lane to take the reins.

Instead, I hid in my bedroom to shove my face in my pillow and ugly cry. The stress was getting to me, and I was one bad moment away from a nervous breakdown. It was only a matter of time before they hauled me in, but for murder, not tampering with evidence. I had no way to prove my innocence, because my ‘alibi’ mother was now being arrested for murder also. I knew I hadn’t murdered Ben. And I knew my mother had no reason to kill Michelle Hudson. So who did?

With the tears exhausted – for the time being – I got up and straightened the bed. Cleaning helped clear out my thoughts. The detective didn’t seem to know much about Medea Kent, other than coming across her name when looking into Ben’s financials, but it was odd that he didn’t mention anything more about her. Like how she was a skank home-wrecking whore. During the investigation they had pulled our cell phone records, credit card statements, everything. How could he not know about the affair? Unless they knew but weren’t telling me. After all, as Lane put it, they had no desire to give information to me, only to pull information from me.

Hoisting a box from my closet, I rummaged through it until I found what I was looking for. Ben’s work cell phone. The police hadn’t taken it for some reason.

It made sense that he used it to hide his calls from me. I pressed the power button, but the battery had long ago died. My cell phone charger wouldn’t fit, and I didn’t remember finding a charger with it. It was probably at the office, which had shut down two months ago. There was nothing more I could do, so I returned the phone to the box and shoved it inside the closet. I didn’t know what I had hoped to find amid Ben’s old texts to Medea. Anything that would free me from suspicion, I guess.

I stood in my sparse bedroom, worried and confused and terrified. The scrap of paper Medea’s address was on teetered on the edge of my dresser. I’d spent the past two months running, which was getting me nowhere. It was time for a new approach. There was only one way to face a problem, and that was head-on.

***

3 Summer Lane led me to a rundown house in an even more rundown neighborhood. The two-story brick home could have been semi-decent, if not for the mountainous pile of trash next to it, or the tires with dogfennel weeds growing up through them scattered throughout the yard. A row of rusted propane canisters sat at the foot of their personal landfill mountain, where everything from clothes, to shoes, to car