Page 36 of What Happens at Nightfall

“Sorry, must have cut out there for a moment,” Adam lied. “I was just saying I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

Jess looked up sharply as Adam made his way back to the table. “Hear anything about what?”

Adam leaned over her to tap one of the pictures of the finial. Her hair smelled of shampoo and roses, with a slight undertone of coffee. “This. This has gone missing.”

Jess’s eyes met his. “There were multiple pictures of that urn on her wall.”

There was no need to ask her to explain; Adam knew exactly what she was thinking, because he was thinking it too. “It would have taken a lot to knock it over. Those monuments aren’t light. And she couldn’t have known that the top would break off cleanly like that.”

“She could, actually,” chimed in Melinda. “It’s called physics. If she hit it at the right angle . . .”

Adam wasn’t sure if he was in Odd Squad or The Bloodhound Gang. “Only in a PBS kids’ show,” he said.

Melinda shook her head. “And you a scientist, Dad.”

“I’m not a scientist; I’m a botanist,” Adam said shortly. It wasn’t like he danced around the plants widdershins on the night of the full moon, but it had always felt like there was as much magic as science to what he did. Not that he’d ever admit that to Melinda. “Are you positing that this woman wanted the urn and somehow deliberately shifted the monument at the right angle so the top would crack off?”

“Have some more coffee, Dad,” said Melinda.

Jess hunched her legs up, the balls of her feet balanced on the crossbar of the chair, her skirt spread over her raised knees. “I didn’t want to say anything before, because I didn’t want to sound crazy, but I thought I heard a woman’s voice while Ben and I were walking through the cemetery that night. Last night,” she corrected herself. “How was it only last night?”

Adam couldn’t agree more. It felt more like weeks than hours.

“Did you hear anyone?” Adam asked Ben.

Ben shook his head. “The wind was really loud.”

“Theoretically,” said Adam slowly, “this woman might have dismissed the tour group and then gone to filch the finial . . .”

“Nice alliteration,” said Melinda.

Adam ignored her. “And then when you and Ben came through, you caught her at it, and that was the crash you heard.”

“No, it doesn’t make sense.” Jess frowned down at the coffee-stained patch on her skirt, absently smoothing the fabric. The obscene peony winked at Adam. “The finial was still there when you and I stopped there later. Why would she leave it?”

“Maybe you and Ben scared her off and she came back for it later? I don’t know.” None of this made any sense. “Maybe none of this has anything to do with anything. Maybe the monument just fell. Maybe a tourist walked off with a souvenir. Maybe I’m a butterfly dreaming of being a gardener. Maybe we’re all just ladybugs on the back of a giant turtle.”

“Ladybugs?” said Melinda.

“Would you rather be a louse?” Did turtles even get lice? Adam always did this. He focused on random trivia to avoid unpleasant realities. But not this time. Melinda needed him. Even if she thought she didn’t. “We need to figure out what we do about this. Not the finial—your stalker. That’s the important thing.”

“Can I be excused?” Ben mumbled.

“Sure, go ahead. If you need any help with homework, we’re down here.”

Ben was only peripheral to all this; the less he was involved, the better. When this Melinda stalker thing was over, Adam would sit down with him and figure out what was going on—something to do with the boys at his new school, Adam guessed. Bullying? Whatever it was, he’d deal with it after.

First, he had to get Melinda out of harm’s way. “I could send you to your grandparents in Chicago.”

Melinda had inherited Kate’s aristocratic chin. Right now it was jutting out. “I am not missing school.”

“Maybe you could go remote for the week?”

“That was just for the pandemic, Dad.”

Adam wondered if a high school in Timbuktu might possibly need an exchange student. “Never mind. I’ll just have to walk you to school.”

True horror showed on his daughter’s face. “No.”