Chapter 21: Four O'Clock

Gabe's POV

At four on Saturday afternoon I was on a ladder at Brooke's front door.

I was changing the porch bulb for the third time.

It didn't need changing. I needed to be up high where I could see the street.

The green-doored rental stood at the bottom of it, with its curtains drawn on the side that faced me.

Below me, Brooke's friend the school nurse was hanging a string of white lights on the rail.

The officer who had read the recording stood on the lawn in plain clothes with a paper cup of coffee.

Two neighbors from the corner were carrying folding tables up from a truck.

A third man, a retired notary, had brought his stamp in a leather case.

"I can't go in," the officer said.

"It's a legal booking. She's paid for it, and she hasn't done anything in there I can see."

"I know."

"If she comes up the walk tonight and puts a hand on you, I'm there.

If she says what she said on the tape, I'm there."

"I'd like her to say it twice," I said. "In front of someone who isn't you."

"There'll be fifty someones."

He drank his coffee. "You sure about this, Ostby? It's a lot of stage for one woman."

"She built the stage," I said. "I'm just standing on it."

The bulb clicked into its socket, and the porch lit up gold.

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