“And no one reported it to child protective services?” I asked in disbelief. As a teacher, I’d been a mandated reporter of suspected abuse. Then again, I’d heard worse stories about Drum, including that Todd Bingham’s little brother had disappeared, possibly murdered by his own father.

“If they did, nothing came of it.”

“Do you have any idea why Pam would kill someone? I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it.”

“She probably just snapped,” Greta said matter-of-factly. “Everyone has their breaking point. Even nice people. Especially nice people. They stuff it all down until they can’t anymore.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe Pam had been beaten and berated one too many times, but if that was so, why hadn’t she killed her husband?

Greta gave me directions on how to get to the Crimshaw property, then said, “You, me, and Lula should get together soon and have a girls’ night out.”

Her suggestion caught me by surprise, but then so did my elation. While I had Marco, I was lonely for female friends. I saw plenty of Ruth at work and Carnita at the library, but it wasn’t the same as hanging out socially. “Yeah,” I said eagerly. “I’d really like that.” But I couldn’t help wondering what a girls’ night out in Drum would look like. The only things I could come up with were going out for drinks at Max’s Tavern or hanging out at the Methodist church on quilting night, although it was rumored they drank wine while they sewed.

After spending an hour and a half in the kitchen, I was finally ready to go. I wrapped up Sandy’s brownies on a paper plate, saving some to bring to work and two for me and Hank, then covered the casserole dish with tinfoil. I’d have to pick up another one at Target the next time I went to Greeneville. I didn’t expect to get this one back.

The food went into a basket, and I went out the door.

“I left you a brownie on the kitchen table,” I said to Hank, who still sat in his chair watching Letty. I’d already warned him I wouldn’t back that night. His response had been to ask if I was sleeping with Marco or just teasing him. “And I put out fresh food and water for the kittens.”

“That damn hellcat’ll have to come inside to eat it.”

I laughed. “Unless she eats a bird.”

He shot me a dark look.

“I made a chicken and rice casserole for you too, and I portioned it out into containers for your meals.”

“You’re lettin’ me have rice?” he grumbled.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s cauliflower rice mixed in with the real stuff, but be sure to check your blood sugar.”

“I will.”

I started down the steps, the basket slung over one arm and the bag with my work clothes and shoes over the other, but I found myself turning back to look at him. “Don’t you get tired of hangin’ out here every day?”

Surprise filled his eyes.

“I mean, I know you’re retired and all, but did you used to spend all your time here before the surgery, or did you do other things?”

“I used to spend a lot of time at the hardware store,” he said, his gaze turning to the bird feeder.

“The doctor said we could get an apparatus to help you drive. We should look into it.”

He waved a hand as if swatting the idea. “Those things cost too damn much money.”

“You could learn to drive with just your left foot. I’m sure it just takes practice.” When he didn’t respond, I decided to let it go for now. “Okay. Have a nice day, Hank.”

“You too, girlie,” he said affectionately.

I headed to Sandy’s house first. It was a one-story bungalow on the way into town, close to where Marco lived. I got out and walked up to her porch to ring the bell, but the front door opened before I reached the steps.

“Carly, this is a surprise,” Sandy said as she walked out onto the porch, closing the door behind her.

“I just feel awful about Pam,” I said. “I know you must feel ten times worse and, well, my mother always seemed to think food helped heal all wounds, so I made a batch of brownies and brought some to you.” I’d said the part about my mother as an excuse to show up at Sandy’s front door uninvited, but it hit me that my mother really had believed that to be true. She’d made my favorite lunch for dinner on days I was sad—chicken salad—and my favorite dessert for celebrations. She’d done the same thing for my father…before it had all turned upside down.

“Is that why you work in food service?”

“What? No,” I said truthfully. “Max offered me a job after my car broke down in Drum. By the time I could afford a new one, I liked the people I worked with far too much to leave.”

“And you’re livin’ with Hank Chalmers?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

“That’s right.”

“No family or friends worried about you?”

“No,” I said, wondering how this had gotten turned around so that she was the inquisitor. “I had a best friend—a fiancé—but he died.” It was somewhat truthful. Jake might not be buried in the ground, but he was dead to me. “It was hard to get close to people after that. Especially since Atlanta’s such a big city.” I wondered if I was giving her too much information. Sure, I’d eventually shared as much with Max and Ruth, who’d started asking more questions about my past. They’d been sympathetic enough about my quote, unquote tragedy not to press, but Sandy seemed like a dog after a bone.

“You’re from Michigan, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ve got relatives in Michigan.”

“No kidding. Which part?” I asked.

“Detroit.”

“I grew up near Traverse City.”

“Mighty cold winters up there.”

I gave her a grin. “Why do you think I moved to Atlanta?”

She studied me for a moment, then gestured to the two wicker chairs on her front porch, looking out over multiple flowerbeds. “Where are my manners? Have a seat.”

Did that mean I’d passed a test? Or was she preparing for round two? “Thanks. I’d love to.” I handed her the plate, then lowered into the chair farthest from the door.

Once she was settled in her own seat, I said, “I hope this isn’t an imposition.”

“No,” she said, setting the plate on the table between us. “No one who comes calling with brownies could be an imposition.”

“It’s just that I’m still pretty shook up over Pam,” I said quietly. “I realize I didn’t know her that well, but I’m just… Well, it’s all I can think about, and no one else seems to get it. So I thought I might come see you.” I gave her an earnest look. “You always seem like you know exactly what to say and do. I guess I hoped you could help me make sense of it all.”

“I would do that if I understood it myself,” she said, shaking her head. “I have no idea what happened.”

“People are saying that her husband beat her one too many times, so she lost it and went to Ewing just looking for someone to shoot.”

“The beatin’ her one too many times part might be accurate,” Sandy said, “but Pam couldn’t even put out traps for mice. She didn’t want to kill them. I just can’t fathom her killin’ a human being.”