Once Cold. Блейк Пирс

I still miss you. I’ll always miss you. I’ll always love you.

      Mother

      “They’re from Tilda’s mother,” Riley told Bill. “I’m sure the flowers are from Paula’s own garden.” She could imagine Paula carefully cultivating a bed of bulbs she’d planted in a sunny area for early blooms.

      “Does Paula live here in Greybull?” Bill asked.

      “No. Tilda’s parents moved away soon after the murder. Paula still lives in Virginia, though, over on the other side of Richmond. Her husband died last year.”

      Riley felt a pang of sympathy as she remembered Paula telling her on the telephone …

      “What would we become if I forgot Justin or you forgot your mother? I don’t ever want to become that hard.”

      Paula had always struck Riley as a brave person. But she knew that Paula was also intensely private.

      How lonely she must be! Riley thought.

      The other flowers were a more formal bouquet with gladiolas and carnations – an arrangement that might come from a florist. They were held in a plastic cone that had been stuck into the ground.

      Obviously thinking about fingerprints, Bill put on plastic gloves and picked up the cone of flowers, then emptied out the water. He put the arrangement in a plastic bag that he’d brought along for this very purpose.

      A voice called out. “What are you folks doing there?”

      Riley and Bill turned around and saw an anxious-looking man in a security guard uniform walking toward them. He looked as though he might be in his late fifties.