Start talking.”
That was not something he said to her all that often.
* * * *
Molly was grateful that Chris let her phone Sam after her statement, even though he didn’t want her to leave just yet. She sat in the front row, her heart and limbs equally heavy. The theater was lit up like a Christmas tree during the winter festival. It was nearly blinding and quite warm. Molly removed her jacket as Sam hurried over to her. She hadn’t seen him come in since she’d stopped paying attention to the comings and goings; her mind was somewhat numb. His mother was right behind him.
She stood and practically fell into his arms. He scooped her up against him, burying his face in her neck. He pulled back, looked down at her, looked her over, and then met her gaze.
“You’re okay?”
Before she could answer, Katherine swatted him away and took Molly’s face between her hands, turning it one way and then the other as if inspecting it for damage.
“You’re fine?”
Molly nodded and leaned in to hug Katherine. “I promised your mother I’d keep you out of trouble. Please don’t make me a liar,” Katherine whispered.
Molly pulled back and gave a watery laugh. Sniffling she leaned into Sam, whose arm came immediately around her shoulder.
“Trust me, I really don’t mean to. This was truly a case of wrong place and time. For both Judd and me. And, unless she did this to herself on purpose, Magnolia, too.”
Sam looked over to the stage, his jaw tightening. Magnolia’s body had been taken away but Chris’s men were still photographing every inch of the stage and interviewing the actors and stagehands who’d shown up for rehearsal.
“Chris thinks it was an accident?” Katherine asked, flanking Molly’s other side.
Molly’s nod was followed by a shrug. “I think so. She has no head wound though. Maybe she had a heart attack. It doesn’t make sense,” she muttered.
Sam’s hand rubbed briskly up and down her arm before he turned her toward him, looking down at her again. “You’re shaking. The adrenaline is wearing off.”
Chris, who’d been over near the left side of the stage talking on the phone, walked over to them as he slipped his phone in his pocket.
“Hey,” Sam said.
“Sam. Ms. Alderich.”
Sam’s mom patted his cheek and squeezed his forearm. “Christopher, you call me Katherine for heaven’s sakes.”
Molly bit the inside of her cheek because everything felt funnier when she was punch drunk. It wasn’t late but she was exhausted. The kind of boneless fatigue that typically followed a fast and furious rush of endorphins.
“Yes, ma’am. How are you doing, Molly?” Chris asked, sounding as tired as she felt.
“I’m okay. Where’s Judd? Is he all right? He was so shaken up when I got here.” Molly lifted her hand to brush the hair out of her eyes. It was falling out of the ponytail she’d pulled it into hours earlier.
Chris scowled and reached forward, his hand grabbing her elbow.
Sam scowled back. “What are you doing?”
Molly blinked rapidly. What was he doing?
With a gentleness she didn’t expect, Chris took her hand and stretched her arm out, rubbing his thumb over her wrist. She hadn’t noticed the bruising until then.
Deep, dark, purplish bruises marred her skin. On top, it was a nearly solid band of discoloration, but when Chris carefully turned her arm over, the other side showed finger imprints.
“Who did this to you?” Chris snapped.
Molly thought it was weird that she’d felt just fine—other than sleepy—until that exact moment. Now, her wrist throbbed. “Oh. Uh, when I got here, I was so startled I backed away from the body, and I guess I was going to fall off the stage. Judd grabbed me so I wouldn’t.”
“You guess?” Chris asked as Sam put a hand on her shoulder.
“I didn’t realize I was so close to the edge. He saved me from falling.”
“And left one hell of a mark,” Chris said, letting go of her hand.
Molly encircled her wrist with her other hand, feeling the gentle heartbeat under those fingers. She stared at the marks a moment, again wondering how Magnolia could look so peaceful, not a scratch on her, and not be okay.
She lifted her chin and looked at Chris. “The mark would have been worse if I’d tumbled off the stage.”
Katherine rubbed Molly’s arm. “Thank God you didn’t, sweetheart. Chris, we need to take her home. She’s about to fall over. Surely, you’re finished with questioning.” It was a prim and firm motherly tone.
“Yes, ma’am. Go home, Molly. Get some rest…and do me a favor?”
She sighed, long and deep. “Like you said, I know the drill. I won’t print any details until you give me some.”
“That’s right. I’ll let you know the cause of death when I do but until then, let’s respect the family in their time of grief.”
Molly bit her bottom lip to avoid snapping at him. She might be a lot of things—dogged, stubborn, and—now and again—a teensy bit reckless. But she was never thoughtless or careless about people’s feelings. It came from having people be that way about her own so often throughout her life. From new school mates to boyfriends, people had opted not to tread carefully where Molly’s heart was concerned.
“Have they been notified?” Sam asked.
Chris nodded. “Yes. But that’s all I can say. Go home. I’ll speak to you later.”
“I’ll count the minutes,” Molly answered, picking up her coat and purse. She caught Sam’s gaze and her heart tumbled in her chest. He was looking at her with so much affection she had to fight the urge to throw herself at him again.
“Cute,” she heard Chris mutter as he walked away.
Katherine took Molly’s purse from her and gently pulled Molly’s long, dark ponytail from beneath the collar of the jacket Sam helped her slip on. “Why do you and Chris constantly push each other’s buttons?” she asked as they walked toward the exit of the auditorium.
“Everyone needs a hobby,” Molly said around a yawn.
Three police vehicles were parked in the loading zone directly in front of the rec center and crowds of people hovered in little groupings. Heads turned their way and someone with a microphone followed by someone with a camera blocked their path.
Equal parts irritation, indignation, and protective instincts stiffened Molly’s spine. Before the woman—who, according to the sticker on her mic, was from a station in a neighboring town—could speak, Molly held up her hand.
“We
