While the Bowman twins were alone in the break room with Eddy and Evan, Debbie Bowman was with Chief MacDonald, candidly sharing with him her sincere concerns regarding her sons.
“I’m worried about them, not only because they broke into a local shop—which is a horrible thing. I’m not trying to gloss over that. I understand they need to be held accountable. But I am more concerned about their mental health.”
“I understand, and I imagine the court will recommend counseling, especially considering your husband’s recent death and the circumstances surrounding it. That’s a lot for two small boys to take in. I can relate. My youngest is only a little older than your boys.”
“It’s more than that.” Debbie paused and glanced over to the open doorway leading to the hall. Wanting more privacy, she stood and walked to the door and closed it. After she did, she turned back to the chief. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I haven’t been the mother they need. Since their father’s death…well…” Debbie looked down but didn’t finish the sentence.
“It would probably be a good idea for you to get counseling, too.”
Debbie looked up at the chief. “It might be my fault. I’ve sort of checked out these last few weeks. The boys have found a way to conjure up one parent, since their other one who’s actually with them hasn’t been present.”
The chief frowned. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“They are convinced their father has been visiting them in their dreams.”
“That’s not so unusual. My boys lost their mother, and they sometimes dream about her.”
Debbie returned to her chair and sat down. “No. It isn’t like that. They said…well…that his ghost comes to their dreams and visits them. They insist they’re having the same dream at the same time. Which actually is totally possible if some of those articles I’ve read about twin dreams are true. But that’s really beside the point. They’re convinced their father is coming to them, speaking to them.”
“Is that such a bad thing? Although I guess it depends on what he’s saying to them.”
“They claim their father has apologized. Supposedly, Clay has taken total responsibility for his actions and doesn’t want his sons to treat people like he did.”
“Like I said, is that a bad thing?”
Debbie reached down to the floor and picked up her purse, which she had set by her feet when first sitting down in the chair. She set the purse on her lap and opened it. From the purse, she pulled two sheets of wrinkled paper. She stood up and handed the papers to the chief.
With a frown, he leaned across his desk and accepted them. “What is this?” He unfolded each one and read the cursive handwriting.
“The boys insist a ghost wrote those notes, telling them it was really their father in their dreams. They even claimed the marker moved on its own. They’re making up these fanciful stories, and I honestly feel they think everything they’re saying is true.”
“Are you suggesting your boys wrote these notes?”
Debbie shook her head. “No. They can read cursive, but they aren’t very good at writing it.”
MacDonald dropped the pages on the desk. “What are you saying? Someone else wrote these for them?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying!” Debbie broke into tears and started sobbing.
MacDonald sat there quietly for a moment as she cried. He stood up, grabbed some tissues from a box on his desk, and walked over to her. He handed her the tissues, which she accepted before blowing her nose.
Instead of returning to his desk, he sat down in a chair next to her. In a quiet voice, he said, “Why don’t we not worry about the notes or the dreams right now?”
Wad of tissue in hand, Debbie looked up to the chief and sniffled. She wiped her red nose and asked, “I shouldn’t be worried about the notes? My sister insists Eric and Zack are pulling an elaborate hoax. But my sons didn’t write those notes. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“If they’re pulling a hoax, so what? It could be their way of comforting you.”
Debbie frowned. “How so?”
“Perhaps they’ve come to the realization their father made mistakes. He loved them, but he made mistakes. By saying their father is claiming full responsibility for how things turned out, it could be your sons’ way of telling you they don’t blame you. And they’re willing to do better.”
Debbie sniffled again, dabbed her nose with the wad of tissue, and said, “You think?”
The chief nodded. “Now why don’t we have them come back in? No reason to mention their dream. If they want to tell me about it, okay? But let’s not bring it up. Instead, I would rather discuss types of community service that might be appropriate for someone their age and considering what they did.”
“Community service? Like picking up trash on the beach?”
“No, something where they’re more involved with the community. Millie Samson from the museum mentioned they’re looking for a couple of helpers over the holiday weekend. They’re opening a new exhibit tomorrow, and they’re planning some special events over the weekend. She asked if my boys might be interested. Several of the normal volunteers are going to be out of town for the holiday. So perhaps that might be an idea.”
“The boys liked the museum, but I’m not sure Millie would welcome them.” She added with a whisper, “They took those keys.”
“It could be a way for them to make it up to the museum. I was also considering having them help with the pet adoption fair that’s scheduled next week. What do you say? Shall we bring the boys back in here and talk to them about it?”
After Colleen returned the Bowman boys to the chief’s office, they stood quietly on either side of their mother while she sat in a chair and the chief sat behind his desk. When Colleen left the office, she closed the door, and Debbie started the conversation with, “Boys, did you want to tell the chief something?”
“We’re sorry,” they chorused.
“Can you explain what exactly you’re sorry for?” the chief asked.
The boys exchanged a glance. Eric gave his brother a silent nod and mouthed something the chief couldn’t see before looking back at him.
“We’re sorry for being butts,” Zack began.
“Zack!” Debbie scolded. “Your language.”
“Let him go on,” the chief urged.
Zack took a deep breath and looked at the chief. “We’re sorry for breaking into that store. It was wrong. And we promise we won’t do something like that again.”
“And we’re sorry for how we acted the last time we were in here,” Eric added.
“Our dad told us you’re a good guy, and we can trust you. Eric and I don’t want to get in trouble anymore,” Zack said.
The chief arched his brows. “Really?”
Both boys nodded.
Across town, while Danielle and her friends made plans to revisit Adam’s listing, and MacDonald finished up his meeting with the remorseful delinquents and their mother, Eva and Marie were busy surveilling Wesley’s widow and his brother, with Eva watching the widow, and Marie the brother.
The only thing Marie had learned thus far about Wesley’s brother was that he had an incredibly boring job working at the auto parts store, where he spent most of his time on the phone or at the service counter, discussing spark plugs and other dull topics. It didn’t take Marie long to realize surveilling him at his work was a waste of time, and she wasn’t learning anything useful about him. Instead, it would probably be better to watch him when he was with Bonnie, and if she was lucky, he would try killing Bonnie while Marie was there—if he had homicidal intentions—Marie could save the woman, Adrian could be arrested, and Marie’s job would be done, and she could do something more enjoyable, like spending time with the new babies.
Marie was considering leaving and finding Eva to suggest another strategy when Adrian’s cellphone rang. He was only on the call for a minute, but as soon as he got off the phone, he told the other employee he was taking his lunch break early, and then he promptly left. Curious to see where he was going, Marie followed him.
Adrian walked down the alley and entered the local florist shop from the back service entrance. Marie followed him inside and, to her surprise, found the lovely widow Pierson, owner of the flower shop, waiting for him. As soon as he was in the back room, alone with widow Pierson, he closed the door, and the two embraced.
“Oh my,” Marie muttered. Wanting to blush at the amorous encounter, Marie moved to the front of the flower shop and found it empty. Fortunately, there were no employees or customers to walk in on the hanky-panky currently taking place in the back room. She moved to the front of the flower shop and noticed a sign hanging on the outside of the glass door, but she couldn’t see what it said. Moving outside the building, she read the sign: Closed for lunch. Will be back at 1 p.m. Marie tested the door with her energy. As she expected, it was locked.
As she was about to go back into the flower shop, she heard someone say, “Hi, Marie.” She turned to see Evan MacDonald walking with his father and brother.
“Where is she?” MacDonald asked in a low voice.
Evan stopped in front of the flower shop and pointed toward the door. “Right there.”
“Afternoon, Marie,” Edward said, as if it was perfectly natural to say hello to something none of them but Evan could see. “And thank you for helping with the Bowman boys. The dream hop seemed to work, and I met with them today. Their attitudes are much improved, and I’ll be working with them.”
“Tell your father I’m happy to hear that,” Marie said.
Evan repeated Marie’s words, and Eddy shook his head. “I doubt I’m ever getting used to this.”
MacDonald chuckled and gave his eldest son a pat on the back. “Welcome to the club, bud.”
“We’re going to lunch at Beach Taco,” Evan told Marie.
“That’s nice.” Marie glanced toward the flower shop, wondering how the lovers were doing.
“Why are you here?” Evan asked.
“Evan, you shouldn’t be standing there talking to a door,” Eddy said under his breath.
“I’m not talking to a door.”
“I get it, but they don’t.” Eddy nodded to a group of older teenagers who had walked by and were now looking back at the three of them standing a few feet from the entrance of the flower shop while his younger brother seemed to be in a conversation with the door.
“We should probably go,” the chief said, placing a hand on Evan’s right shoulder.
“Wait, before you do, tell your father something for me.”
Evan looked at his father. “Marie wants me to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Tell your father…umm…Wesley may be right. His brother isn’t acting like someone who is marrying for love.”
Evan repeated Marie’s words.
The chief frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It seems he has another friend,” Marie said.
“What do you mean he has another friend?” Evan asked.
Marie opened her mouth, about to say something, but changed her mind. She glanced back at the closed door of the florist shop. She looked back at Evan and said, “Tell your father I’ll explain later.” Marie vanished.