Chapter 3 - The Man With the Gray Gloves
Tuesday had been my library day.
A man had stood in our kitchen when I got home. He wore gray gloves despite the warm weather and held a grocery-store cake he never opened. Dad called him Mr. Bell. They stopped talking the minute I walked in.
"What did he look like?" Nolan asked as another marshal drove us away.
"Tall. Little scar here." I touched my chin. "He asked what time my bus got home."
Nolan didn't speak for a moment.
"Did your father answer?"
"Yes. He said four fifteen. I thought the man was buying our truck."
Nolan pressed a button on his radio. "Get a description out on the visitor. Gray gloves, scar on chin. Check the vehicle at the east intersection."
At the hospital, Mom sat upright on an exam bed under a warm blanket. A nurse had cleaned a cut near her mouth. I climbed onto the chair beside her and reached for her hand. I had questions, but she looked smaller than she'd looked that morning.
"I told her you were being brave," Nolan said.
Mom gave a tired laugh. "She shouldn't have had to be."
"Who was that man, Mom?"
Her face closed. "What man?"
"The one with gloves. Dad called him Mr. Bell."
Mom turned to Nolan. "He's here?"
"We haven't identified him yet."
She drew me close, careful not to hurt her bruised shoulder. "Emily, I need you to hear this. None of this began with you. You didn't make your father angry. You didn't cause the fight. And you do not have to fix it."
"Then why did he want to hurt you?"
Mom stared at the hospital curtain. "Because I wouldn't tell him where I kept something."
"What?"
Before she could answer, Nolan's phone buzzed. He read a message, stepped toward the doorway, then came back with the color drained from his face.
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"The sedan at the intersection belonged to a company we investigated four years ago," he said. "Sarah, someone from the fire case has found you."
Mom shut her eyes. "Then Ryan wasn't guessing."
