Chapter 41
Annie walked down the aisles of the grocery store, heading toward the bread. She popped three loaves into her cart. “Three loaves? Are you feeding an army?” a friend had once said to her when they were shopping together.
“My boys eat a lot of sandwiches,” Annie had explained. Truth is, they’d go through that bread in less than a week, which was why she was here on a Sunday afternoon. They had run out of bread and milk. No matter how she tried to plan for groceries, they ran out of something before week’s end.
Annie loved the fact that the grocery store had recently expanded its hours and was now open on Sundays, which turned out to be a great day to shop because not many people shopped on Sundays in Cumberland Creek.
Christmas music played in the background. By this point in the season, Annie was pretty sick of the music. She turned the corner and headed for the dairy section and ran right smack into Steve Rogers, Sheila’s husband.
He laughed. “Where are you going so fast?”
“Just to get milk,” she said, and smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before, Steve.”
“I hate this place. Sheila usually shops,” he replied. He looked forlorn and Annie was torn between feeling sorry for him and wanting to shake him.
“They’ll be home soon,” Annie said, starting to move her cart around Steve.
“I hope so,” he said. “With all the stuff going on, I’m very worried.”
“What do you mean?” Annie asked.
“Sheila was questioned by the FBI today. Imagine,” he replied.
“That means nothing, Steve. They’re investigating. Of course they need to talk with her. She discovered Allie’s body,” Annie said, moving her cart beyond his so that they stood beside one another. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re worried. I am, too. But Sheila can handle herself.”
“I know that,” he said, after a minute. “It’s just . . . it all seems so weird. The note. The murders.”
“Yes, I’ll give you that. And now this business about Sharon Milhouse.”
Steve paled. “What?”
Annie realized nobody had told him about Sharon. “I’m sorry, Steve. We’ve been trying to figure out who could have killed Allie and were looking at the passenger list. . . .”
“Sharon Milhouse is on board?” he stammered.
“We’re not sure it’s the same person that you once knew,” Annie said. He didn’t look good; his eyes widened as he paled even more. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Was he going to have a heart attack standing there in the grocery store? “In fact, Bryant said it’s a long shot. A very long shot,” she added.
“She’s still in the Richmond Institution, right?” Steve said, after a moment.
Annie shrugged and glanced away. She wished she had not told Steve all of this. He was coming undone. Yet, she couldn’t quite lie to him. That wouldn’t be fair. “Bryant’s looking into all of this. You should call him,” she said, starting to walk away.
“Damned right I will. I want my wife to come home. Now. I want her to get on a plane and leave the cruise and come home where she belongs,” he said. Something about his voice made Annie spin around to look at him. Was it just her safety he was concerned about or was it something else?
“Steve,” Annie said, “you can’t mean that. So there was a little trouble; Sheila will be fine. And think of all the people she’s meeting. All of the opportunities she has laid down at her feet right now. She’s so talented. Finally, she’s being appreciated for it.”
With each word, Steve reacted as if she were pinching him instead of talking to him. He resembled a beleaguered child standing there, with his shoulders drooping.
“You’ll be fine,” Annie said, and gave him a playful punch. “Gotta run, Steve. If you need anything, give us a call.”
“Thanks, Annie,” he said as she moved toward the milk.
Oh boy. What was that all about? Was Steve unhappy that Sheila was off pursuing her dreams? He’d always seemed so cool and supportive about everything. But this was the first time Sheila had left home on business. Usually he was the one traveling through the mountains with his outfitting company. One thing was certain: he didn’t like his wife being gone. But Annie was uncertain how much of that was worry because of the murder, or maybe disdain because Sheila had the audacity to leave her family for a few days. Oy.
Sheila and Steve had been married for a long time. What—twenty-some years? Had four kids. And Sheila had always stayed at home, but also built her scrapbooking supply business. She’d always done it from home. This was new, this traveling around with successful scrapbookers. Could Steve be insecure after all those years of marriage? Or was he just being an asshole?
Good thing she didn’t tell him about Theresa Graves. He might be hopping the next plane to the Caribbean to fetch his wife. What was a woman like that doing in the scrapbooking world? Annie shrugged. Scrapbooking attracted a wide variety of people—that was for sure. And why wouldn’t it? Once you got over the overwhelming quality of it—where to start? I’m so behind! I know nothing about design!—it was fun and felt very rewarding to capture your family’s memories. Sheila had gone into some local prisons and taught some scrapbooking classes and she said the classes filled up every time.
“Everybody has a story to tell,” Sheila liked to say.
Annie thought about Mary Schultz, the woman she was writing about. She definitely had a story to tell. She needed to get that book done and out of her life. She’d been dreaming about her again. Sad dreams. Scary dreams. Mary’s life was both sad and scary.
As Annie placed her bread and milk on the counter to be paid for, she thought about human frailty. And how sometimes it turned into ugliness and violence.