“I know there were rumors that Eve broke up with me,” Nick says heading off my next question. “But they weren’t true. We loved each other. I bought her a promise ring. I was going to give it to her for Christmas that year. Her mom told me that Eve bought me a present too. She found it in Eve’s room. A video game. She gave it to me at the funeral.”
I stare him straight in the eye. “Eve told me she broke up with you. It wasn’t a rumor.” I had said some mean things to Eve the morning she told me about the breakup. I felt bad the second the words came out of my mouth. I never told her I was sorry. I could have though. If only I would have apologized maybe the day wouldn’t have ended the way it did.
“That was her mom, not Eve,” Nick contests. “She loved me.” By the look on his face I can tell Nick really believes this to be true.
“Uh-huh,” I say noncommittally. “And you were where on the afternoon of December twenty-second?”
“I was with Jamie Hutchcraft and then I was here at the shop with my mom until about ten. I was at home the rest of the night.”
“Where is Jamie these days?” I ask.
Nick squirmed. “I don’t know, we lost touch. Why?” I let the question hang there, let him think that I’m searching for Jamie to once again confirm the alibi.
Nick rubs his elbow and he catches me watching. “Still aches sometimes,” he says, rolling up his shirtsleeve to show me the scars. “Twenty-five stitches because of Nola, that crazy bitch.”
“Just stay away from trophy cases and large windows and you’ll be fine,” I joke. Nick doesn’t think I’m funny.
“I’m serious,” Nick says, pulling down his sleeve with a snap. “It took an hour for them to get all the glass out. You’re going to make sure she stays far away from me, aren’t you?”
Nick has a point. A week after Eve’s funeral, Nola, who stopped at the high school to pick up Eve’s things, shoved Nick into a glass trophy case. She overheard him describing in minute detail to a group of friends how sad it was that Eve was dead because she gave the best blow jobs.
“Nola isn’t going to bother you. But if she does,” I hand him one of my business cards, “just call me.”
He looks at my belly. “You’re going to stop her?” he asks. What a sexist pig.
“Maybe,” I say.
“Wait, did your dad ever look into that guy Eve used to babysit for?” Nick asks. I freeze, pen in midair.
“What guy?” I ask.
Nick looks up at the ceiling trying to retrieve the name. “Harper, I think. I don’t know for sure.”
“Cam Harper?” I ask. “The man who lived next door?” I was not expecting this name to pop up. Not now. Not ever.
“Yeah,” Nick says. “Eve mentioned once that he kind of creeped her out and on the day she died I saw them together. He was holding her hand.”
I give my head a little shake as dread spreads through my body. “Why would Cam Harper be holding hands with Eve?” I ask.
“I figure she would have told you,” he says. “I thought the two of you talked about everything.” I respond with a noncommittal grunt. “I called him out on it. Told him to stay away from my girlfriend. He just blathered on that I had gotten it wrong.”
“Maybe you did,” I offer, still thrown by this revelation. Cam Harper and Eve holding hands? “When did this happen?” I ask.
“In the morning, on the way to school. It was weird.” Nick drums his fingers on the counter. He’s getting restless.
“And you told the police this?”
“Yeah.” Nick shrugs. “At least I’m pretty sure. Your dad must have made note of it somewhere.”
“I thought Dex Stroope interviewed you,” I said, “but you talked to my dad?”
“Yep, just once. I did talk to the new chief when he was working for the sheriff’s department. Three or four times. I’ve got to say, it made me really nervous. He was awful to me. Treated me like a criminal.”
That didn’t really sound like Chief Digby. From what I could tell, he was the epitome of decorum and respect when it came to suspects. That didn’t mean he was soft—he would never have made chief. He just played good cop really well.
I remember my dad saying that Nick was cleared and that he hoped people would stop dragging his name through the mud. “Well, he was just doing his job,” I say. “What else can you tell me about Cam Harper?”
“Nothing really. Just that Eve was ready to quit babysitting for them. Said that Harper made her real uncomfortable but it was the only way she had to make money so she kept doing it.”
“And you told my dad this?” I ask again. Nick nods. “But not Stroope or Digby?”
“No, by that time I was the main suspect,” Nick says. “Besides, I had a lawyer and she wasn’t letting me say much.”
“Will you let me know if you think of anything else?” I ask him. “Even the smallest detail?”
“Sure,” Nick says, walking me past displays of rustic pottery and hand-poured candles to the door. “I miss her too,” he calls as I push through the door. I almost believe him.
I turn back to him. “How’d you find out?” I ask. “About Eve?”
“My mom woke me up and told me the next morning,” Nick says, his forehead furrowing at the memory. “It was awful. I really don’t need this, Maggie. I was cleared twenty-five years ago and now you’re telling me that I might have to go through all of this again. Eve’s mom told everyone who would listen that I killed her and Nola is just freakin’ nuts. Things finally died down and now they are going to be all over me again. It’s going to be a shit show.”
“I have no intention of letting this become a shit show, Nick,” I assure him, “but I have to do my job.”
“Then check out Cam Harper,” Nick insists.
“I will,” I say. “But do me a favor, Nick. Don’t say anything about Cam Harper to anyone. I don’t want him to get wind that I’ll be talking to him. Sometimes it’s better when they don’t see you coming, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, sure. Just keep Nola Knox out of my face, okay?”
I try not to roll my eyes. “You’ve got my card.”
Either Nick is lying about Cam Harper to deflect any suspicion or my dad didn’t think it was important enough to note. The third option is more disconcerting. Was my dad’s memory failing way back then? I do this a lot—scan my brain for any evidence, any precursors that might have warned us of what was to come.