ERIC GOLDEN

Sitting on an overturned metal bucket, Eric pulled weeds from the garden in front of Number One Azalea Court, tossing them on the pile of brittle-brown leaves and dead flowers in the wheelbarrow. Normally he liked the quiet of Saturdays when the kids played soccer and Bea wandered in the stores downtown. He liked the repetitive tasks of the fall garden clean-up, meditative in their simplicity. Cut back perennials, plant bulbs, pull weeds, gather leaves, repeat. It was a bonus that the work offered the best view of the goings-on around the Court, without seeming to be nosy. Today he would rather be doing something more to find Iris, but he had no idea how to help. If there was any help to offer. So instead, he pulled weeds.

He waved at Donnie, who was dressed for a run and stretching against his front stoop. He pretended not to notice Lexi sobbing on her parents’ porch, telling himself he was giving her privacy, but knowing that he had no idea how to comfort her. He wondered what Detective McPhee was doing for such a long time inside Number Six. True that Aggie wore a hoodie, and the guy with the German Shepherd had reported seeing a hoodie-wearing person near Iris at the burial ground, but McPhee had been in there for almost an hour. When Bea pulled up with the kids, he was ready to move on to the next bungalow and trying to decide whether it would be more respectful to Asher to skip his house, or weed it, acting like nothing was different. Even when everything was different.

“We won two games, Dad!” Morgan shouted. “I made an awesome goal.”

“Great,” Eric said. “What about you, Marc?”

“I hate soccer,” Marc mumbled, dragging himself up the steps and into the house.

Bea laughed. “He hates everything. Me most of all.”

“You sound cheerful about it,” Eric said.

“Adolescence,” Bea said. “What’s going on?” She pointed with her chin across the Circle, at Aggie walking towards them, flanked by the two detectives.

“Don’t know,” Eric said, standing up and moving to Bea’s side.

McPhee called out to them. “Hello! We need to talk to your daughter again, please. Just a few questions.”

Morgan moved closer to her mother. McPhee stepped forward, leaving Aggie with the other detective.

“When you came home from school yesterday, Morgan, did you stay in your house?”

Morgan shook her head.

“What did you do?” McPhee asked.

“I went to Aggie’s house, to play with her dolls.”

Bea shot a toxic look at Eric. “You let her do that?”

He frowned. “You were supposed to take the kids back to work with you. Instead, you just dropped them off without even checking to see if I was here.”

“Where else would you be? You’re the stay-at-home parent, remember?”

“With someone kidnapped from our street, you should have made sure,” he said.

McPhee held up her hand to quiet them. “What time did you bring the children home?” she asked Bea, her voice calm.

“Quarter to three, maybe? I picked them up at school at two thirty and was back at work by three.”

McPhee turned to Eric. “And when did you see Morgan?”

“I came home about four. Morgan arrived a couple of minutes later. You came over at about the same time and talked to both kids, remember?”

McPhee checked her notebook. “That’s right, about four fifteen.” She turned back to Morgan. “Were you with Aggie the whole time, from when your mom dropped you off until you came home and talked with me?”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain of that?”

Morgan nodded.

“Thank you. That’s all for now.” McPhee nodded to Aggie who turned to leave. Did Eric imagine the brief defiant glance that crossed her face?

“Do you know what happened to Mrs. Blum?” Morgan asked.

“No,” McPhee said. “Not yet.”

“Are the kids in danger? Should we keep them home?” Bea asked.

McPhee shrugged. “Being careful is probably a good idea until we figure out what happened. I’d keep the kids in the house for now.”

“Is Aggie in trouble for playing with me?” Morgan asked.

“No,” McPhee said. “Mrs. North isn’t in trouble at all. Thanks to you.”