CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

Riley joined in the general laughter at how the puppy and the black and white kitten were dealing with each other.

April said, “At least Marbles isn’t hissing at Darby today.”

Jilly added, “And at least Darby isn’t trying to hide under the furniture.”

They were all on Riley’s back deck, along Blaine and his daughter, Crystal. Bill, who was taking a well-deserved leave from work, was there too. And of course Gabriela had served everybody delicious snacks, this time balls of deep-fried batter called buñuelos.

They were all enjoying the confrontations between the two little animals. Though still a puppy, Darby was larger than the kitten that April had named Marbles. Nevertheless, Darby had been thoroughly frightened of her smaller housemate—at least until today.

Now the situation appeared to be changing. Darby wasn’t backing away at Marbles’ stalking approach.

She was holding her ground.

And now, when Marbles raised her paw to swat at Darby’s face, Darby did something she hadn’t done before.

She raised her own paw and pushed it against Marbles’ head.

The kitten fell backward into a startled heap.

The whole back yard echoed with laughter now.

“Way to go, Darby!” April shouted with glee.

And in another instant, the two animals were playfully wrestling with each other, obviously enjoying their mock-battles.

Jilly looked up at Riley with a grin.

“Wow, you sure were right, Mom!” she said. “They’re great pals now!”

Like everybody else, Riley had already laughed until her lungs hurt.

But as her laughter waned, a feeling of melancholy began to creep in.

She and Bill had returned from Georgia just yesterday, and she wasn’t sure which of the two women she pitied more—the murderer, Adrienne McKinney, or Harlan Ford’s troubled wife, Nora.

The truth was, Riley could almost understand Adrienne’s madness, especially now that she knew more about her awful story. When she’d been a young and immature computer prodigy, she’d married much too hastily, and realized too late that her husband had been attracted to her for her youth and beauty, not her mind. Much worse, the man was a depraved abuser—by all accounts more vicious than Harter, Farrell, or Morse, all of whom had been murdered for their cruelties.

When her husband was killed by a disgruntled employee, something in Adrienne’s mind finally snapped. She fancied herself some sort of righteous scourge against abusive men. Riley wondered if this was one killer who might mount a successful insanity defense. In any case, she would never be free again.

Nora Ford, on the other hand, hadn’t been the victim of a man at all, but of some mysterious illness that ravaged her brain. A therapist who treated the woman after her ordeal told Riley that Nora had some kind of terrible breakthrough when she saw her husband’s life in danger. But that breakthrough was but the awful beginning of a long struggle to regain her mental health. Would she ever recover from the guilt of knowing that her own delusions almost killed the man who most loved her and cared for her?

Riley sighed and thought …

At least it’s all over.

Riley had no doubt that the three widows, Morgan, Charlotte, and Tisha, would persevere nicely. They were all young and beautiful and had plenty of resources now that their husbands were dead.

And they’re sure not going to do a whole lot of grieving.

Things had also worked out well for Jared, who had become something of a celebrity among Atlanta cops for the part he’d played in solving the case. Riley had to admit that he’d done some excellent work.

Not that I’m going to miss the obnoxious little guy.

All three of the girls were now on the floor playing rambunctiously with the kitten and the puppy. Bill and Blaine were deep in amiable conversation.

Riley breathed a sigh of relief that Bill had gently rebuffed her advances that night when she had felt so down.

Finally Bill looked at Riley and said, “I’d better be going.”

“You don’t have to,” Riley said.

Bill looked over at Blaine, then at Riley.

He grinned as if to say …

“Yes, I really should go.”

As soon as Bill left the house, Riley scooted her chair next to Blaine’s and held his hand.

Blaine said to her, “What do you want for your birthday?”

Riley was startled. She’d almost forgotten that she was going to turn forty-one in just a few days.

“Anything,” she said, “but no surprises.”

Blaine looked a little embarrassed. Then he nodded silently toward the kids.

Riley immediately realized what he was trying to tell her. The kids and Gabriela were planning a surprise party—and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

“Oh, no,” Riley said to Blaine.

“Oh, yes,” Blaine said.

Riley chuckled a little at her own mild discomfort.

Everything’s good, she thought as she watched the happy scene. Riley knew she didn’t always manage everything well, but sometimes she did all right.

She cared, and these people all knew that she cared.

So why did she feel a pang of sadness?

Riley knew the reason perfectly well.

She often felt that happiness like this must be terribly fragile in such a cruel and violent world.

But then she wondered …

Was it really?

Or was it possible the joy she was witnessing right now was stronger than she had believed?

Riley hoped so with all her heart …

If only I could know.