Chapter 4 - Rosa’s Blue Box
Rosa’s “something” was in a blue cookie tin under a loose floorboard in the Nolan house.
At least, that was what she claimed.
The deputy left to call his supervisor. Grace’s contractions eased after midnight. Rosa remained in the chair beside the bed, arms folded.
Grace waited until the hallway quieted.
“You lied to me.”
Rosa stared at the floor.
“For a year,” Grace said.
“Yes.”
“You stayed in my house to collect evidence.”
“Yes.”
“You went through our things?”
Rosa rubbed the bandage on her arm. “Sometimes.”
Grace turned her face toward the dark window.
Weeks earlier, she had accused Rosa of stealing cash from a kitchen drawer. The money had later appeared inside Daniel’s desk, and Daniel had shrugged and said he must have moved it.
Grace had apologized.
But not well.
She had said, I’m sorry if that embarrassed you.
She remembered Rosa’s face now.
Not angry.
Just finished.
Grace closed her eyes. “Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I did.”
Grace looked back.
“After the fire. I brought photographs. A maintenance log. Nobody called me back.”
“Who did you give them to?”
“County fire investigator. Man named Harlan Beck.”
Grace sat up too fast.
Daniel played golf with Harlan Beck.
Once a month.
Sometimes twice.
Rosa saw the answer on her face.
“I found that out later,” she said.
“What’s in the blue box?”
“A burned ledger page, two voice recordings, and a key.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know.”
Grace stared at her.
Rosa gave a small shrug. “I said I had evidence. I didn’t say I was good at this.”
That almost made Grace smile.
Then Rosa added, “There’s one more thing.”
Of course there was.
“I stole a phone from Daniel three months ago.”
Grace’s heart kicked.
“What phone?”
“A cheap one. No name on it. He used it in the garage.”
“Where is it?”
Rosa hesitated.
Grace knew that look now.
“You lost it.”
“No.”
“You hid it somewhere stupid.”
Rosa looked offended. “It was a good place.”
“Where?”
“The church donation closet.”
Grace stared.
Rosa raised both hands. “Nobody steals from Jesus.”
Grace laughed despite herself, then winced as another contraction tightened.
The door opened.
A nurse stepped in.
Behind her stood a man in a gray suit.
He held up a badge.
“Mrs. Nolan? State Fire Marshal’s Office.”
Rosa went rigid.
May you like
The man looked at her first.
“My name is Harlan Beck.”
