“You have.”
“Ugh.” Briefly, Jack pressed his eyes shut and tilted his chin to the sky, as if asking a higher power to rain hellfire and damnation down upon him. “Maybe I should pick up a nice dinner and bring it home to make her feel better.”
That nudged a smile out of Brian. “You were going to do that anyway. You know she’s going to be exhausted after a day spent out in the sun picking up garbage.”
“My poor Ivy.” Jack was morose. “This just doesn’t seem fair.”
“Life isn’t fair.” Brian resumed his walk to the front door. “I’m sure you’ll both realize that again when she comes home smelling like sweat and garbage.”
Jack groaned. “You just paint such a rosy picture of life sometimes.”
“You’ll get over it.” Brian briskly rapped on the door and waited. This was his least favorite part of the job. It had to be done, though.
The man who opened the door was a familiar face. Brian had been friendly with Stanley Carmichael for years. Now, standing on the man’s front porch, about to tell him the worst news ever, Brian realized that every memory Stanley had of him would now be tainted because he was bringing news of Sasha’s death.
“Brian?” Stanley’s eyebrows, which were more gray now than black, knit together. “This is a surprise. I ... were you just in the neighborhood?”
“No, Stanley.” Jack braced himself for the emotional onslaught he knew was to come. “I need to talk to you and Maryann. Is she here?”
“I ... Maryann.” Confusion was etched across Stanley’s face. “You’re not here because you suspect she did anything, are you? I can guarantee that whatever you think she did ... .” He switched gears almost instantaneously. “It was Phyllis Dorchester down at the community center, wasn’t it? She’s convinced Maryann stole her knitting needles, but I swear she didn’t.”
Pity overwhelmed Brian. At his heart, he knew Stanley recognized that two detectives weren’t darkening his doorstep over misplaced knitting needles. The man was hoping for something — anything really — to ease the pounding of his heart, and the fear encroaching on his brain.
“We’re not here about knitting needles,” Brian reassured him. “We’re not here about Phyllis either. We’re here about Sasha.”
Stanley’s face contorted, but he managed to recover. “She doesn’t live here any longer. I mean, her mother kept her room for her, but she has an apartment. She hangs out with friends. We only see her once or twice a week.”
“I know that.” Brian’s voice was soft. “Stan, I have some bad news for you.”
Stanley was already shaking his head. He could tell where the conversation was going and he didn’t want any part of it. “No. She’s fine. She’s at work or something. I can call her cell phone.” He turned and walked back into the house, his gaze bouncing around as if he was searching for something specific. “I just need to find my phone so I can call her.”
“Stan ... .” Brian was at a loss.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Stanley continued as if he hadn’t heard Brian say his name. “Back when we were younger men, you had to memorize phone numbers if you wanted to call someone. Write them down or something. Now they’re programmed right into the phones so you don’t have to remember anything.”
“Stanley, we just came from the woods by Twin Elms,” Brian started. “We were called there because a road crew found something in the woods.”
“There would be no need for Sasha to be out by Twin Elms.” Stanley almost looked triumphant when he raised his head. “She never hung out there. She hated golf, and only people who golf hang out there.”
“She wasn’t on the golf course, just in the general vicinity of the golf course,” Brian explained. “We’re not a hundred percent sure what happened at this point. She was about seventy feet from the main road. We think she might’ve been hit by a car.”
“But ... no.” Stanley vehemently shook his head. “How would she get hit by a car out there?”
“We don’t know. We’re trying to gather some information.” Sensing that Stanley wouldn’t be able to hold it together very long, Brian got right to the heart of matters. “Was she seeing anyone? Was she dating anyone specific?”
“You think she was killed on purpose, don’t you?” Stanley was aghast.
“We honestly don’t know,” Brian replied hurriedly. “It’s possible it was some sort of tragic accident. We need more information from the medical examiner. Anything you could tell us about what she might’ve been doing out there would be greatly appreciated, though.”
“I already told you she had no reason to be out there,” Stanley choked out, his voice breaking. “She hated golf. I ... don’t understand any of this.” His hands flew up to cover his eyes. “Maryann is upstairs. How am I supposed to tell her this?”
“I’ll tell her,” Brian automatically volunteered. “It’s my job. You don’t have to do it.”
“No, it’s my job.” Stanley’s eyes were damp with tears when he raised them again. “My baby can’t be gone.”
“I’m so sorry, Stan.”
“I just ... this is wrong.” His legs were shaky as he moved toward the stairs. “I need to talk to Maryann. I ... we need to deal with this. Where is Sasha now?” He swallowed hard when he realized what he’d asked. “I mean … where is her body?”
“She’s at the county medical examiner’s office,” Brian replied. “I can make arrangements so you can see her.”
“Yeah. We need to see her.” Stanley’s knuckles were white as he gripped the railing. “You’re absolutely sure it’s her, right? There’s no room for a mistake, is there?”
“I’m sorry, Stan. I’m sure it’s her.”
“I guess that was too much to wish for.” He took two steps and then slowed. “She had a boyfriend. She never told us his name. She said Maryann was a busybody and she didn’t want her digging into
