Louis lived right up the road from where I used to live. His wife and kids still lived there. I was on my board, riding past the house when I turned into the driveway suddenly. As terrified as I was, my need to clear Ben outweighed it. I had to admit that Officer Jarvis was right - the only way I was going to be able to get the answers to my questions was going to them myself. Plus, I knew I needed something for me. I didn't feel right calling it closure, but something like it.

Their house was a cute 2-story with an open garage. A basketball sat in the freshly-cleared drive next to a fairly new car. I sucked in a breath as I came to a stop. Light spilled out of a window, casting a warm glow onto the snowy lawn. Nothing except a wreath on the door to suggest that someone was missing from this home. 

I forced myself to take a couple of slow breaths as I made my way to the door. Before I could raise my hand the door opened. A short woman with brown hair stood there, staring at me. She looked nervous. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Um, are you Mrs. Martin?"I asked, wrapping my arms around my board, hugging it.

She eyed me. "Yes. Who are you?"

"My name is Brenda. I used to live right up the road." I gestured towards my dad's house, which was clearly visible from this porch.

"The Anderson girl?" she asked, surprised. I swallowed and then nodded. Her expression went from suspicious to gentle in less than a second. "Oh, come on in." She ushered me past her. I went, not sure how to react to this. "I was just in the kitchen, making some snacks for the boys. Have a seat." She led me into what I considered a beautiful kitchen. The appliances were all red, but the cabinets were all a dark grey, along with the counters. 

An island occupied the middle of the room, next to a window that looked at the driveway. So that's how she knew I was here.

I took a seat on one of the stools, placing my board on my lap. "You have a beautiful house," I told her in a quiet voice, afraid of speaking too loudly in case she changed her mind and kicked me out. 

"Thank you." She returned to a couple of sandwiches she'd been working on. "It's something I am actually quite proud of. Louis and I worked very hard on this place. When we bought it, it was just a pile of bricks that was about ready to be tore down. Together we restored it, and even put a few of our own touches on it." She gestured upwards. "That includes expanding the attic into a second floor."

"That sounds like it took a lot of work."

"Oh, it did. We actually just finished it last year," she said sadly. Her movements stopped and she leaned on the counter. She was quite young, about Ben's age, so I wasn't surprised it was a recent remodel. But her sadness was dragging her posture down, making her look much older from behind than she actually was. Suddenly, she plopped a sandwich on a plate and sat it in front of me. Before I could react, she was grabbing a glass out of the cabinet and placing it in front of me, as well. "What do you like to drink?"

I started shaking my head. "You don't have to-"

"I know I don't," she interrupted forcefully. "But I want to. What do you like to drink? Soda? Or maybe juice?"

"Juice." She poured a glassful of apple juice and slid it gently across to me. I stared at it all for a long moment before looking back up at her. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

She frowned and leaned on the counter. "Why wouldn't I be?" I couldn't speak the words, but she seemed to read them on my face. "Oh." She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "What did you say your name was?"

"Brenda."

"Brenda, just because your father made a mistake doesn't mean that I should treat you badly. I wouldn't be me if I did that." Her eyes studied my face before she came around the island and sat next to me. "My husband's step-father was accused of fraud some years ago when he still lived in Denver. Everyone looked at him, looked at his kid, and they didn't see a difference. They still don't. Not even after the guy moved here and eventually married Louis' mom. In school, his step-brother was looked down on."

"Who's his step-brother?"

"Robert Smith."

"From Invested?" I asked, my eyes wide.

She raised an eyebrow. "The very one. Why?"

I shook my head, forcing my expression to even out as I picked at the bread of the sandwich. "I was just surprised I know him, is all." I pulled a piece off and popped it into my mouth. Ham on wheat with mustard. Not my favorite, but not bad.

She watched me with the barest hint of a smile. "I know a lot of people probably think you're like your father, but I trust that you're your own person. You deserve that much, don't you think so?"

The food barely made it past the sudden lump in my throat. I had no idea why she thought so much of me, but it felt like too much. I didn't deserve it, not after what happened. It was all I could do to stay put and not run out the front door, away from her kindness. Even as I thought it I knew it was a ridiculous thing to want. So many people didn't receive the same welcome she gave to me, and I shouldn't walk out on it. 

She stood up and walked out of the room. For a moment I expected her to come back and tell me to leave, but she came back with a couple of tissues and handed one to me. That was when I realized I was crying and that my whole face was wet. "Thank you," I mumbled. I reached up with a shaking hand to wipe my tears away. "Thank you."

Somehow she seemed to understand I meant more than the tissues. She rubbed my back and told me, "You deserve it, Brenda."

It took a few minutes, but I calmed down enough to give her a smile. "Thank you for the tissue. And the sandwich and the juice."

She gave my shoulders a squeeze before standing. "You're welcome. Now, finish the sandwich. You look like you need it."

So I did. I finished the sandwich and we talked about her kids - the oldest was five and he's in kindergarten already, the other was three and napping - and then about Louis. It was hard for me to hear, but I wanted to know more about him and she seemed eager to tell me stories. It didn't seem like much time had passed when a little boy ran into the kitchen and attached himself to her leg. 

He looked just like the picture I saw of his father. He had the dark hair and green eyes that his dad had. Smiling, Mrs. Martin - Heather - picked him up and kissed his cheek, placing him on her hip. "Say hi to Brenda," she told him. The little boy seemed to notice me for the first time and buried his face in his mom's shoulder. We both laughed at him. "This is Cole," she said. "He isn't shy most of the time."

"That's okay," I said. "He's adorable."

"Thank you." She looked at him with so much love in her eyes that it was clear her kids were the center of her whole world. They had a short exchange and she excused herself to put him in the living room with his toys while we talked in the kitchen. "Sorry about that," she said when she came back.

I shook my head. "Don't worry about it," I replied. "I loved seeing him."

She gave me a big smile, but it dimmed after a moment. "Do you still live up the road? I never see anyone at your place."

"No, I live with Ben and Lilly."

She nodded. "I know Ben somewhat. He works for Rob, yeah?"

"Used to. I think he kind of left his position there when he was arrested."

"Right, I forgot about that. How's he holding up?"

I shrugged. "He's okay." 

We fell into silence for the first time since I arrived. Finally, she broke it. "I saw you that day, you know."

I looked at her, startled. "You saw me?"

She nodded. "The day we... The day of the services. I saw you watching. You looked so sad, like you lost someone, too. That's how I knew you were a good person. Not many people do that."

"I was almost talked out of it. I was told it would be disrespectful," I blurted, not sure why I said that.

She raised an eyebrow. "Brenda, turning up to support a grieving family isn't disrespectful, not when your heart moves you to do it because you care. The look on your face as you stood there was caring."

I swallowed hard, trying to will away the tears that were trying to make another appearance. "I did. I do."

She nodded once, as if the matter was settled. "Thank you for listening to me talk about Louis," she said. "I haven't really been able to talk about him to anyone." She wiped the counter with a dishtowel and then stared at it. "I feel too bad talking to his mom, and Rob won't listen to me, and the boys are too young to understand everything. Thank you." Her eyes met mine and I saw what I'd felt a few times myself since the accident: alone. She felt alone.

I walked around the island and hugged her. She tensed at first, but quickly relaxed into it. "I've enjoyed listening to you," I said as I pulled away. Normally, I wouldn't have said 'enjoyed', but she spoke about Louis with so much love and passion that 'enjoyed' was the only word I could think of to describe how I felt. 

She picked up the other tissue and dabbed at her eyes. "You don't know how much I've wanted to talk about him," she said in a hoarse voice. "Please, come back anytime. I've loved getting to talk to you." 

---

By the time I left her house, we'd hugged twice more and shed more tears and I was ready to be alone for a little while. I loved talking to her more than I thought I would - mainly because she was so much different that I anticipated. She was sweet and loving and kind and thoughtful. It was a relief but at the same time it made me feel even worse. It still felt like it was all my fault, but now I could put faces to the people my father hurt the worst. 

I reached the entrance to my spot and I climbed down to it. The woods was quieter than usual, but I didn't think anything of it. After all, the snow muffles a lot of animal sounds. I just sat on my board and lost myself in my thoughts.

Rob's dad had committed fraud before. That wasn't a reason to blame him for stealing, and I may have gotten it all wrong. He may be so scared of becoming like his dad that he got upset with me. I could understand the feeling. Besides, the insurance was a common practice. He'd just been protecting himself from what happened. I couldn't deny that it was a motive, though. Not because of his father, but in general. A lot of people would be tempted by the prospect. 

I had an idea on how to check if it could have been a motive, which meant another visit to Kev.

Reluctantly, I got up from my spot and began climbing up towards the road. But, before I made it halfway up, a shovel appeared at the top. My brow furrowed in confusion, but then the next thing I knew, I was sliding back down with snow and gravel falling on top of me. I let out an 'oof' when I hit the bottom. My head was just inches from the edge of the ledge I always sat on, which was rock - solid rock. If I'd hit my head on it, I would've been in trouble.

I hopped to my feet when I heard a car door slam and scrambled quickly up to the road, but my head cleared the edge in time to only see the taillights of a car speeding down the road.