Lies That Bind by Maggie Barbieri

night?”
    “Why would I come to the store, Maeve?”
    Not really an answer, but definitive enough so that she believed he hadn’t left the confines of his large Arts and Crafts manse in a woodsy part of town that was home to the richer denizens of Farringville. “I’m just wondering. There was a light on and I…”
    But she was speaking to dead air, DuClos’s interest in the conversation nonexistent. She took one last look at the fingerprint before leaning over and blowing the flour granules into the air.

 
    CHAPTER 10
    How many pairs of khakis could one man own?
    Seventeen.
    That was the number of pairs of pants that Maeve counted in the box that she put together for the local Goodwill store. She didn’t know why she felt the need to get rid of everything so quickly, but making sure that Jack’s things were inventoried and then sent off to good homes was her number-one priority.
    That, and looking through everything to find proof that Dolores Donovan was wrong.
    It had been eight days since he had died, and although part of her felt like it was too early to be doing something like this, she did it anyway. Without thinking about what a box of khakis might mean, whose they were, she put the box into the trunk of her Prius and was about to drive away when Heather appeared on the front porch.
    “Mom, wait!” she called, in her hands a black jacket that Maeve didn’t remember buying or the girls owning.
    Maeve rolled down the window. “What’s that?”
    “It’s a jacket. I think it was Grandpa’s,” she said, stuffing it into the space between Maeve and the steering wheel.
    “Where did you find it?” Maeve put it on the seat beside her; in an instant, the car was filled with the scent of Old Spice. Yep; it was Jack’s all right.
    “Front closet. I was looking for my denim jacket and I found it. You’re going to Goodwill, right?” Heather asked.
    “Yes. I have to get there and back before Jo leaves.”
    “Do you know where my denim jacket is?” Heather asked, a hint of accusation in her voice. Maeve had learned that missing items that belonged to her daughters were always a result of something she had done, something she had moved. In actuality, the two of them wouldn’t remember their own heads if they weren’t sitting at the top of their necks. “I’m going out with Tommy.”
    “Ugh,” was out of Maeve’s mouth before she could think. Heather’s crestfallen face told her that she had heard it, too.
    “He’s not that bad,” Heather said.
    “Well, there’s a ringing endorsement.”
    Maeve had heard some choice words about Tommy Brantley the last few years, “dealer” being the most concerning one. She didn’t care if he didn’t take Advanced Placement U.S. History or honors physics but she did care that he might be the village’s connection to all things hallucinogenic; she just couldn’t get the proof she needed, so she had put Jo on the case. “Get your ear to the ground on Tommy Brantley,” Maeve had said. “Ask your sources. Check him out.”
    But Jo hadn’t found out anything beyond the fact that Tommy was the only kid the school had to play goalie for the lacrosse team and that made him a valuable asset. Jo said that she had heard that the school turned a blind eye to any kind of transgression when a state championship, purported to be this year’s goal, was on the line. So he dealt a little weed? Not an issue when a state championship was at stake.
    Was that the way the world worked now? Maeve wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.
    Maeve was smarter than to be the person who forbade Heather from seeing him—no better way to make sure that the two eloped before they became seniors in high school—but she was wary and cautious and didn’t keep her negative feelings to herself as much as she should.
    “My denim jacket?” Heather asked again.
    Maeve decided to have a little fun with her daughter. “Look where you’d least expect to find it,” she said, enjoying the