She Wore Mourning by P.D. Workman (best desktop ebook reader .txt) 📕

we would give him that. There’s no way I would let anyone give Deck cough medicine.”

“Maybe he wasn’t feeling well, and Spencer gave him cough medicine,” Zachary suggested.

“He wasn’t sick. I told you that. Spencer knows I wouldn’t let him give Declan cough medicine. He would never have done that.”

“Maybe he thought he’d just give it a try. Just to see if it would help. He never expressed any concerns to you?”

“No. He didn’t say anything was wrong or that he had given Deck medicine. Declan was happy and playing. If he’d had that stuff, he would have been asleep. He wouldn’t have been able to walk around. He wouldn’t have been playing.” When Zachary opened his mouth, she rushed to fill the space. “I was watching him. I would have known if he had been drugged.”

“But you weren’t watching him the whole time. You were only checking occasionally to make sure he was okay.”

“I was watching. I never looked away for long.”

“How long? Five minutes?”

She shook her head in irritation. “No, I don’t think it was that long. Two or three. I was keeping track of him.”

“But then you couldn’t see him anymore.”

“I know that.”

“And you didn’t go out the first time you looked and couldn’t see him. You waited to see if he came back into view again.”

“Only for a few minutes.”

Zachary knew how that was. If she said she hadn’t seen him for five minutes, it was probably at least ten. From what he’d seen, she got pretty wrapped up in her work, and she could have gone half an hour without thinking any time had passed. It was only five minutes at the most to get from the back yard to the pond. It only took two or three minutes for a child to drown. In fifteen minutes, either of them could have done the deed, without the other realizing they’d been out of the house.

“Could Spencer have left the house without you realizing it?”

Isabella looked away from her painting and studied him, looking confused. “Of course not, he was here the whole afternoon. I don’t understand why you’re asking that.”

“He could have left for five minutes without you noticing, just like Declan could wander off for five minutes. You weren’t watching Spencer.”

“No… but I was watching his coat.”

“What do you mean, you were watching his coat?”

Isabella laughed at Zachary’s consternation. “I wasn’t painting in here. I was in the bedroom.”

“Right. We established that.”

“And I was standing in front of the closet. Just a few feet away from Spencer’s coat. It was right there in front of my eyes. He wouldn’t leave the house without it.”

“He could have.”

“No! It was a cool day. Spencer would never have left the house without it. He’s very rigid about it.”

OCD as an alibi?

“Do you know what Spencer was doing during that time? Is there any way we can check his alibi?”

“His computer,” Isabella said vaguely. “I imagine he left a digital trail somewhere.”

“And what about you? Is there any way we can verify that you were in the bedroom like you say you were?”

“Where would I go? I was painting. Watching Deck. I couldn’t go anywhere.”

“Would Spencer have known if you left the house?”

“You will have to ask him,” Isabella snapped. “He has a view of the back yard too. We both had a view of the back yard, and neither of us saw anything.”

“You alibi each other.”

“Unless you think that we both colluded to murder our son, that’s going to have to be good enough for you.”

Could they have conspired to kill their son? Zachary couldn’t see it, no matter how he tried to mold the picture in his mind. While they were not demonstrative, he believed they loved Declan. One of them could have hurt him in a moment of anger or frustration, or by accident, but he didn’t see how either of them could have hurt him intentionally.

And that meant he was back at the beginning again. To a mysterious stranger coming into the yard, or up to the gate, luring Declan out, drugging him with cough syrup, and then abandoning his body in the pond. If the time of death was five o’clock, they would only have had, at most, an hour with the boy. It didn’t make any sense.

There was a knock at the studio door. Zachary and Isabella looked up. Spencer hovered in the doorway. He held a cordless phone toward Isabella.

“It’s Melissa Raymond,” he explained. “I thought you would like to talk to her… set something up, maybe?”

Isabella looked at him for a moment, not excited by the suggestion. Eventually, she laid aside her paintbrush and walked to the door of the studio to take the phone from him.

“You’re done here?” Spencer asked, looking at Zachary. “Give them some privacy to talk.”

Zachary conceded, leaving the studio so that Isabella could talk privately with her friend. Spencer led him back toward the front door.

“Melissa will be good for her,” he said. “She always used to be able to draw Isabella out before. She needs someone to talk with. Someone who isn’t a cop or a therapist or a private investigator.” He considered. “Or her husband.”

Zachary glanced sideways at him. “Marriage isn’t for cowards.”

“You’re right about that,” Spencer agreed fervently. “You’re married?”

“Divorced.”

“Sorry.”

Zachary nodded. “Yours has lasted longer than mine did. I hope things improve.”

“Neither of us is good with change; we’ll avoid it as long as we can.”

At the door, Zachary offered his hand. “Thanks for your help. One thing before I leave. Did you give Declan cough medicine? That last day?”

Spencer raised his brows. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No. He wasn’t sick, and I know how Isabella would feel about that.”

“When Declan was playing in the back yard, did Isabella leave the house?”

Spencer scowled as he shook his head. “No, I can’t imagine she would.”

“I’m not asking if she would. I’m asking if she did. Was there any time that you might have heard or seen her leave? Or