“Oh boy,” Matthew said, brushing his hair back. “By the look on your face, I’d say I’m too late.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Freddie thought you might need a ride,” he said. “Actually he wanted you to drive him home, and I thought maybe while I was here, I could calm Grady down.”
“That’s really considerate of you,” I said, throwing him a sideways look. “But … why would you need to calm Grady down?”
Matthew shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, after you left with Rhonda, Freddie decided to make some sidecars to settle everyone’s nerves.” He paused, looking as though he was considering his next words carefully. “He maybe said a thing or two he shouldn’t have when Grady was questioning him.”
“Of course.” I threw my hands into the air. “What did he say?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
Matthew grimaced. “Well, there was lots of yelling about who keeps this town safe, a subpoena for something … Freddie said it was Otter Lake Security property, but Grady disagreed … then there was you,” he said with an apologetic tip of the head, “and something about Lightning?”
I pinched my lips together and nodded. “Sounds about right. Go on.”
“Well, they were both pretty mad, and then Freddie may have made a sound…”
“What kind of sound?”
He didn’t answer.
“Matthew?”
He looked up to the stars and said, “A sound a pig might make?”
“Oh come on,” I yelled, looking back at the station house. I clutched my forehead. No wonder Grady was so upset.
“You could tell he didn’t mean it,” Matthew added quickly. “He apologized right away.”
“Did he really?” I asked, dropping my hand.
“Well … not in so many words.”
I groaned.
“By the look on his face, though, you could tell he knew that he had gone too far.”
“I don’t believe this,” I said, throwing my hands into the air again. “I really don’t freaking believe this.”
He nodded.
“Listen. It’s sweet that you want to talk to Grady on Freddie’s behalf, but it probably won’t help.” Definitely not after the lemonade. “Could you just give me that ride back to your place?”
“Sure.”
“Freddie and I need to have a little talk.”
* * *
Trees whipped by the window of Matthew’s car, but I wasn’t really seeing them. I tried to hold on to the feeling of being angry at Freddie, but even that was seeping away. Nope, now that I had stopped moving and everything was quiet, all I could focus on was the snapshot of Mr. Clarke lying on the grass … and Kit Kat …
Who could do that? Why?
Right now, the twins should be sitting on my mother’s porch, clinking their mugs of gin together … not lying in a hospital bed, or locked up in a jail cell.
I looked over at Matthew. A pang of guilt shot through me. He was going through so much, and yet he seemed so concerned about everybody else. It made what I was about to do so much worse. And yet I couldn’t stop myself. I needed answers. We all needed answers.
“Matthew?”
He turned his head from the road to look at me.
“I need to ask you something.”
His jaw clenched, like he knew what was coming. “Go for it.”
“The other night at fair? By the VCR?”
He met my eye again.
“You said something about your mother.”
He nodded and looked away.
“I’m sure you were just joking around, but I have to ask…”
“You can just say it,” he said tightly. “It’s fine.”
He did not seem fine. I swallowed. “Are you sure?”
“Go ahead. Say what you really want to ask me.”
“I—”
“You want to know if I think my mother is a murderer.”