Carolina Moon

another dead child, and her helplessness.
    She cried until she was empty, and the water ran cool. Then she turned her face up to the chilling spray and let it soothe.
    When she was dry, she used the towel to wipe the steam from the mirror. Without compassion, without excuses, she studied her face. Fear, denial, evasion. They were all there, she admitted. Had been there. She’d come back, then she’d buried herself. Hidden herself in work and routine and details.
    Not once had she opened herself to Hope. Not once had she gone beyond the trees and visited the place they’d made there. Not once had she gone to the grave of her only real friend.
    Not once had she faced the true reason she was here.
    Was that any different from running away? she wondered. Was it any different from taking the money that had been offered and running anywhere that wasn’t here?
    Coward. Cade had called her a coward. And he had been right.
    She put on her robe again, and went back into the kitchen to look up the number, dialed, waited.
    “Good morning. Biddle, Lawrence, and Wheeler.”
    “Victoria Bodeen calling. Is Ms. Lawrence available?”
    “One moment please, Ms. Bodeen.”
    It took no more than that for Abigail to come on the line. “Tory, how nice to hear from you. How are you? Are you settling in?”
    “Yes, thanks. I’ll be opening the store on Saturday.”
    “So soon? You must’ve been working night and day. Well, I’m just going to have to take a trip up your way sometime soon.”
    “I hope you do. Abigail, I have a favor to ask.”
    “Name it. I owe you a big one for my mama’s ring.”
    “What? Oh. I’d forgotten.”
    “I doubt I’d have come across it for years, if then. Hardly ever use those old files. What can I do for you, Tory?”
    “I … I’m hoping you might have some contact with the police. Someone who could get you information on an old case. I don’t—I think you’ll understand that I don’t want to contact the police myself.”
    “I know some people. I’ll do what I can.”
    “It was a sexual homicide.” Unconsciously, Tory began to press and rub her right temple. “A young girl. Sixteen. Her name was Alice. The last name—” She pressed harder. “I’m not completely sure. Lowell or Powell, I think. She was hitchhiking on, ah, 513, heading east on her way to Myrtle Beach. She was taken off the road, into the trees, raped and strangled. Manual strangulation.”
    She let out a huge breath, relieved the pressure in her chest.
    “I haven’t heard anything about this on the news.”
    “No, it’s not recent. I don’t know exactly when, not exactly. I’m sorry. Ten years ago, maybe less, maybe more. In the summer. Sometime in the summer. It was very hot. Even at night it was very hot. I’m not giving you very much.”
    “No, that’s quite a bit. Let me see what I can find out.”
    “Thank you. Thanks so much. I’ll be home for only a little while longer. I’ll give you the number here, and at the store. Anything you can tell me, anything at all, would help.”
    She kept herself busy, and had nearly five uninterrupted hours and still Abigail didn’t call back.
    People stopped by the window off and on during the day and admired the display she’d created out of old crate boxes, homespun cloth, and cannily selected samples of pottery, handblown glass, and ironwork. She filled her shelves and cabinets, hung wind chimes and watercolors.
    She arranged point-of-purchase items on the checkout counter, then changed her mind and chose different ones. Willing the phone to ring, she organized boxes and shopping bags.
    When someone rapped on the door, she was almost relieved. Until she saw Faith on the other side of the glass. Couldn’t the Lavelles leave her be for one damn day?
    “I need a gift,” Faith said, the minute Tory wrenched open the door, and would have pushed past if Tory hadn’t shifted and blocked.
    “I’m not open.”
    “Oh hell, you weren’t open yesterday, either, were you? I only need one thing, and ten minutes. I forgot my aunt Rosie’s birthday, and she just called to say she’s coming to visit. I can’t hurt her feelings now, can I?” Faith tried a pleading smile. “She’s half crazy anyway, and this might push her over the edge.”
    “Buy her something on Saturday.”
    “But she’s going to be here tomorrow. And if she likes her present, she’ll come on down on Saturday herself. Aunt Rosie’s loaded. I’ll buy something very expensive.”
    “See