Christmas Cookie Murder. Leslie Meier

Matthew—one at a time on the slide, please,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level.

      She looked up at Barney, blinking back tears. “I just can’t believe it. Who would do such a thing?”

      Barney shook his head sadly. “It’s early, still. I don’t know if they have any suspects, yet. I came to see if she had an address book or anything like that here—they didn’t find anything at her place.”

      “I don’t know. I think she used the desk by the window. You can look around.”

      “Thanks, Lucy. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

      “No problem.”

      Shoving her hands in her pockets, Lucy strolled out to the play area. It wasn’t too cold, maybe thirty-five degrees, and it was bright and sunny, but Lucy felt chilled to the bone. The kids didn’t seem to mind the cold one bit. The boys were scrambling up the ladder and shrieking as they went down the slide, a couple of the girls were bouncing on plastic horses fastened to sturdy springs. Two others were going up and down on the seesaw. It all seemed so normal. A typical day at the day-care center. Maybe it was, she thought, finding comfort in denial. Maybe she’d imagined the whole thing. Barney hadn’t come, and Tucker was still alive.

      “Thanks, Lucy,” came Barney’s voice, from over the fence. She turned and saw him, tipping his hat at her. “I’ll be on my way now.”

      She lifted her hand to wave and a dark wave of grief overwhelmed her, like clouds rolling in and blotting out the sun. She sat down on a bench and watched the children play, but they seemed very far away, and their voices were muffled. It was only when she heard the steeple bell at the community church tolling the noon hour that she realized it was time to go inside for lunch. Otherwise, she didn’t know how long she might have sat there.