A Killer Past by Maris Soule

concern in her voice.
    Mary opened her eyes and looked at her granddaughter. ‘What’s the saying? “You can’t go back.” That’s how I feel about France. It was an exciting time, but I was in my twenties then. I fell in love with Paris, with the countryside and the people. It wouldn’t be the same now, and it wouldn’t be the same for you if I were along.’
    Especially if I were along. She wondered if anyone over therewould remember her … recognize her. Would she be considered a hero for eliminating one of France’s vilest sex offenders or simply remembered as a murderer? Whichever, she wouldn’t want Shannon knowing.
    ‘So you’d make new memories. Please,’ Shannon insisted.
    The doorbell rang and both Mary and Shannon looked that way. Shannon moved first, hopping off the couch. ‘I’ll get it.’
    The girl was at the door before Mary could rise to her feet.
    ‘Trick or treat’ she heard tiny voices sing out.
    ‘Oh, aren’t you two adorable,’ Shannon responded.
    Mary watched Shannon scoop a handful of candy from the bowl near the door and drop it into the two pumpkin-shaped plastic baskets the children held. Shannon had the door closed and was halfway back before Mary took two steps away from her chair.
    ‘Weren’t they the cutest ever?’ Shannon said.
    Mary shook her head and eased herself back into her chair. ‘I don’t know. I barely saw them.’
    ‘Well, they were. Absolutely adorable.’ Her granddaughter plopped herself back on the couch. ‘You know, you don’t have to get up. I’m here so you don’t have to exert yourself. Dad worries about you. He thinks you fell down the stairs.’ Shannon looked toward the steep staircase that led up to the second floor. ‘Did you?’
    ‘No, I did not fall down the stairs.’ At least she could be honest about that. ‘I just bruise easy.’
    ‘Well, Dad worries. That’s all he talked about during lunch, how you shouldn’t be alone, that you’d be a lot better off if you went into that retirement home.’
    The doorbell rang again, and again Shannon was on her feet. ‘Just stay where you are. I’ll get it.’
    The next time she came back to the couch, Shannon took a gulp of her soda, then sighed. ‘I told him you weren’t ready to go into a retirement home, that you’re too active for something like that. I mean, didn’t he read that article about you? You work out more than most of my friends do.’
    Mary didn’t even start to move the next time the doorbell rang. Her body ached and her lack of sleep the night before had her content to sit in the chair and watch her granddaughter bounce upand down, oohing and aahing at costumes, and giving out candy. Between trick-or-treaters Shannon’s conversation skipped around from one topic to another. School. Her friends and what they were doing. Her boyfriend, Aiden. How he didn’t want her to get her hair cut short, but why should she listen to him, because she’d wanted to go to a party tonight, but he was off with his dad, up north somewhere, so what right did he have to tell her to keep her hair long?
    ‘What does he think of your idea of traveling around Europe?’ Mary asked.
    ‘He thinks it’s a neat idea. He’s already signed up for a European biking trip next summer, and when that ends, he’s going to stay over there until he runs out of money. We figured we could meet up in Paris.’
    ‘Aah.’ Now Shannon’s plan made sense. ‘And if you aren’t there?’
    ‘It will be a real bummer.’
    The doorbell rang again, and Shannon took off to answer it.
    ‘Mom’s dead set against me going,’ Shannon said when she returned, ‘but if you went with me, I think I could talk Dad into it. And it would be good for you, too.’
    Mary chuckled. ‘How’s that?’
    ‘Dad would see you aren’t feeble, so he’d stop harping about the retirement home.’
    Shannon was working every angle, which reminded Mary of her own mother. Samantha Coye was a user of more than drugs. She used