“Huh.” That changes things. Dr. Bradley hid the necklace recently. “Okay, I see your point. It’s worth looking into.”
“I think so.” Lauren folds the necklace back into the tissue, replaces it in the envelope and bag, and jumps up. “I’m going to start digging.”
CHAPTER 17
Molly
WEN I GET HOME, THE SECURITY GUY IS PULLING AWAY FROM THE curb. Corrine is in the kitchen, laptop open, cycling through screens.
“How’d it go?” she asks without looking up.
“Okay. They showed me video they got from the Fergusons’ security camera. It shows a guy walking past their house headed in our direction Saturday night. They wanted to know if he was the same man I saw last night.”
“Was it?”
“Might’ve been. It happened so fast.”
“Well, look.” She tips her computer toward me, and I see my backyard in black and white, startlingly clear. Corrine clicks through screens, and I see the office, with its yellow tape a sickly gray, one piece fluttering in the wind. Then she switches to the backyard, fence and trees, the side yard, the driveway, and finally the front porch and street view. She clicks more keys, and all shots shrink into tiny rectangles and fill the screen.
“You can see everything at once,” Corrine says. “Or one shot, or a couple at a time. She stands, runs a hand through her hair. “Same for inside. Wherever you have your phone or computer, you can see both inside and outside.”
“Wow.”
“Secure as Fort Knox.”
“Will they bill me monthly? How does that work?”
She blows out a breath. “Rich and I are paying for it.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Not an option. It’s done.” She picks up her Coach purse and swings the strap over her shoulder.
I appreciate her generosity but feel unsettled. This is just another thing she thinks I can’t do for myself.
“Look, Molly. It’s no big deal for us, okay? We want to help.”
This I know. They both earn big salaries, and Rich has family money besides.
“How are you set financially?” Corrine asks. “Mom and Dad are worried, and I told them I’d talk to you.”
“I’m fine. You guys don’t need to be concerned about me.”
“Now that Jay’s income is gone . . . did he have life insurance? Savings?”
“Yes, of course.” Though I’m not sure how much. I wasn’t worried about making ends meet before. I turn and walk to the back door, where I can see the office.
“You could sell the mountain house,” Corrine says. “You don’t use it that much anyway.”
The mountain house in New Hampshire. Jay inherited the property from his mother. It was all she had to leave him. It had been in her family for years, originally built as a hunting lodge. Apparently, her great-grandfather had made money in shipping, but each succeeding generation had squandered a little more until they’d sold off everything except their vacation home in the mountains. It’s a beautiful place up a steep mountain road with majestic views, a couple of rivers and lakes nearby. We go up a few times a year and often invite friends.