Just Like Her by Ramona Light

Author:Ramona Light [Light, Ramona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-05-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 34

“Sorry I’m late,” Carol Stoller says. She is wearing a long, no-nonsense denim dress. The sleeves poof out slightly at the shoulders, and the thin arms that protrude from under them have that slight tan I noticed at the PTA meeting. Her light brown hair is loose and lies flat against her sharp face. Carol clears her throat, then adds, “The traffic was terrible. I’m sorry, but Steven had a callout and can’t make it, so it will just be me, I’m afraid.”

I nod and try to hide my relief. As much as I feel that I need to find out more about Sheriff Stoller, I’m just not ready to face him today.

Chloe turns in her chair to look up at her mother, who is still standing in the open doorway. The look that Carol Stoller gives her daughter isn’t one of anger. It seems to be more of a shared glance that says, “What will your father do when he finds out about this?”

I can’t possibly have gleaned this from one look, but it’s what I feel.

“Chloe,” I say, making her turn back to face me. “Can you wait outside in the hall?”

Chloe nods and rises, dropping her head as she slips past her mother. Carol Stoller gives me an apologetic smile. It is a defense mechanism I’m sure she has mastered over the years.

Talk about jumping to conclusions. You’ve met Sheriff Stoller twice, and you have him nailed down as a monster.

“Please, Mrs. Stoller,” I say, gesturing my hand to the now-vacated chair. “Have a seat.”

Carol nods and shuffles over to the chair. She takes what seems like an age to flatten out invisible creases in her dress once she is sitting, and I wait patiently.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she repeats, still working on her dress. She is picking at lint or something that I don’t see. “But that traffic!”

“It’s perfectly fine,” I tell her, chuckling a little to try and let her know that her tardiness is nothing to worry about. Anyway, according to the clock on the desk, Carol is only about three minutes late. “Really, Mrs. Stoller. You’re not even late.”

“Oh, I am,” she says, giving two sharp nods. She is finally looking at me with those tired brown eyes. Her sharp cheeks reflect the light thrown by the green-shaded library-style lamp between us. “Lateness is never acceptable.”

“As you said, the traffic was bad.”

“No excuse.” Her voice is shaky and low, like a scared bird’s whistle. “No excuse at all.”

“It gave me time to talk to Chloe,” I tell her.

Carol’s eyes widen, and I think I hear her whimper, but that second part could be all in my head. Being in the presence of Carol Stoller is off-putting, but for reasons I’m yet to figure out.

“Just chatting,” I reassure her. “Nothing intrusive.”

Adding that last bit was silly. It merely indicates that I was most definitely digging. Why else would I mention it when Carol hadn’t even verbally responded?

“Ms. Trestle said that Chloe was in a fight?” Carol says, seemingly ignoring my last statement.

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