My mother squints and shakes her head. The sound of her standing and dragging her chair across the floor makes my stomach flip. “Okay, I’ve heard enough. Don’t tell me anything else about this Greta woman. I don’t want to hear it. My baby is in heaven with Jesus. He’s not some woman running around making movies!” My mother leaves the kitchen, and I follow her. Now in the hallway, I tap her shoulder, and she faces me.
“Ma, I thought it was crazy, too, but there’s a part of me that believes her. She says she goes into this other dimension where she becomes Robert. She knew about his birthday party and Lorraine showing up.”
“Regina, I said I don’t want to hear it. It’s taken me forever to get past Robert’s murder. I don’t need some strange woman digging up the past. What good is it all going to do?”
“Ma, I think between the two of us, we can figure out who killed Robert.”
My mother’s eyes fill with tears, and she shudders. “Let it be, Regina. I don’t know why you want to pursue this. Taylor told me about you visiting Veronica yesterday. What were you doing over there? I heard her daughter OD’ed, and she has a strung-out, homeless son. I moved us out of that neighborhood, so you could have a good life. I don’t understand you. I don’t know why you’re hellbent on living a drama-filled life. Isn’t acting enough drama for you?”
She turns away from me and marches upstairs. I press my hand to my chest, attempting to ease the sharp pain ripping through me. A hand on my shoulder makes me jump. “You scared me, Taylor.”
“No, you’re scaring me, and you’re scaring your mother. Baby, I think you need to slow down. First it was Ron and now this Greta woman.”
“It’s Gretchen!”
“Whatever it is, you need to be careful. You don’t know this woman. Baby, she could be a con artist of some sort.”
“Taylor, I appreciate your concern, but I’m going forward with this. You don’t have to help me, but please don’t try to stop me.”
He backs up and says, “I hear you, Regina. You do you. I’m going to finish up in here, and then I’m out.”
I watch him walk away, and I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.
Chapter 17
Gretchen
I’m in my car in the visitor parking lot at Shady Grove Middle School. Reflecting on my meeting with Regina this morning, a lump forms in my throat. I try to swallow it down, but the tears I’ve suppressed since I left her, trickle down my cheeks. I keep seeing her face, full of hope and wonder. She believed me. It’s a miracle. I was so blown away at how things worked out, when I finally made it back to Dancing Hills, I stopped by the university coffee shop and got Lance his favorite drink—a cappuccino. He loves how they prepare it at the university. He thinks they add some magical secret ingredient that gives him an extra boost.
I get out of my Subaru, and my eyes travel the caravan of cars, SUVs, and minivans lining the curb, parents waiting to pick up their offspring. I head to campus, anticipating the look on Lance’s face when he sees me. I’ve never surprised him here before. I hope it’ll put him in a good mood. That and when I tell him Regina is willing to work with me and doesn’t think I’m crazy.
Students with backpacks head home, brushing past me on their way out. It’s a little after 3:00 p.m. Lance usually takes about thirty minutes to wrap things up, so he should still be in his classroom. It used to take him an hour, but since he was assigned a teacher’s assistant, he’s gotten a little more organized.
A trio of girls rushes by carrying purple and gold pompoms—most likely ninth graders. The tallest girl reminds me of one of Lance’s students, Cassandra—caramel skin, long hair, tiny hourglass figure. He thinks she has a crush on him. As much as he used to talk about her, I told him I thought it was the other way around. They whisper to one another and then break into girly giggles. Other students of all shapes and sizes, mostly African American and Hispanic, chat each other up and horse around, oblivious to the harsh realities of the world outside their relatively safe campus. Then again, according to Lance, few of these kids have led privileged lives, and the campus is safe because all building entrance points have metal detectors. Speaking of which, I pass through one and then enter the administration office.
The receptionist, a tall woman with runway model looks, welcomes me with a smile. She steps up to the counter. “Hi, Gretchen. Long time no see.”
“Hi, Cheryl. How are you?”
“Good. Looking forward to Thanksgiving. These kids are driving me nuts.”
We share a laugh.
“I want to surprise Lance.” I raise the coffee cup.
“No worries. He should be in his classroom. There’s a staff meeting in fifteen minutes, but you should be able to catch him before then. How’s your film coming along? If you need any tall girls, let me know. I’d even play an extra.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I leave her and head toward the main academic building, surprised that Lance didn’t mention the meeting. Usually he would.
A security guard observes me as I approach the main building. I nod, and he motions for me to go through the metal detector. Passing a few more students and faculty on the way to Lance’s classroom, I admire the Thanksgiving décor covering the walls—a bulletin board featuring a horn of plenty, a series of turkeys, all sizes, shapes, and colors, and handwritten gratitude letters.
I finally reach the end of the hall where Lance’s class is located. The door is closed. I peek through the glass window, prepared to make a funny face. But there’s nothing funny about what I see: Lance holding Cassandra in a tight embrace. They briefly separate to gaze into each other’s eyes, then lock lips. A shock wave reverberates through me, and as I back away from the door, the cappuccino crashes to the floor. I run through the corridor, dark thoughts plaguing my mind. I push through the door leading to the courtyard and collide with Lance.
“Lance? What are you doing here? I … I … I just saw you in your classroom.”
“That’s impossible. I was in the principal’s office. I’m on my way back to my classroom to get my briefcase, and then I have to attend a staff meeting. I just sent you a text about the meeting. What are you doing here?”
I’m off balance, out of it. Am I losing my mind? I just saw Lance and Cassandra kissing. But he’s right here. I just left there. He can’t be in two places at once.
“Lance … I … nothing. Nothing. Uh … I … was … I was … I was going to surprise you with cappuccino.”
“That’s nice. Where is it?”
“It fell. Spilled. In front of your classroom door.”
“Well, we’d better have it cleaned up before someone falls.”
He enters the building and nods at the security guard, and we both go through. I trail behind him, my heart pounding, palms sweating.
As we near his classroom, I look for the spilled coffee but see nothing. I fight back tears. I can’t let Lance see me lose it.
Standing in front of his classroom, he looks at the floor. “There’s nothing here.”
“Oh, they probably cleaned it up.” So much for my promise to always tell the truth. I look through the classroom window, and no one’s inside.
“Gretchen, why did you say you saw me in my classroom?”
“Oh, I guess I had the wrong classroom. I’d better let you go to your meeting.”
“You’re shaking. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m going to stop by the print shop. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay.” He eyes me with suspicion, and I take off before he starts interrogating me.
When I reach the exit door, I turn to the security guard. “Excuse me. Did you see me come this way about fifteen minutes ago, with a cup of coffee?”
“Ma’am, I saw you, but you didn’t have any coffee.”
“Thanks.” I run to my car, barely able to breathe. I open the door and flop into the seat. My heart sinks when I see the coffee in the cup holder.
Maybe I’m hallucinating. Maybe this whole
Robert thing is a figment of my imagination, and now I’ve mixed Regina up in all of this, and none of it’s real. I need help. But what about the necklace? How could I know that? I’m not crazy—this has to be real.
******
I park in the lot of my parents’ print shop, still mulling over what happened at Lance’s school. Was I dreaming? I get out of the car and enter the shop. A tinkling bell overhead announces my presence. The customers in line turn and look at me. My father, in the middle of taking an order, sends me a quick smile. My mother, in the back giving Raymond and Jorge instructions, barely looks at me. I know she’s still upset about what happened at my condo. And if I tell her what happened at Lance’s school, she’ll probably force me into psychiatric care.
I can’t tell my parents, but I have to tell someone. Thankfully, Patty calls. I answer and go back to my car.
“Hey, Patty.”
“You sound horrible.”
“Thanks. I feel horrible. Where are you?”
“I’m on set with Claudia. We’re shooting the final scenes.”
“I need to talk to you. Can you can get away? If you can’t, don’t worry.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to work on two thesis projects. And of course, yours takes priority.”
“I hate bothering you, but I think I’m going crazy, and you’re the only person I feel comfortable talking to.”
“Don’t think that. I’ll tell Claudia something’s come up.”
“Can you meet me at my house?”
“Sure.”
“You’re an angel, Patty.” I hang up and drop my head on the steering wheel, hoping she can help me figure out what happened. Ever since her near-death experience, she seems to have a lot of insight.
******
Patty, pressing on her head, paces my home office floor. Sitting, I watch her. She halts and flops down across from me. Wearing her signature overalls, she fidgets with the straps.
“So what do you think?” I ask.
“Hmm.” She tilts her face toward the ceiling, deep in thought.
“Maybe I was seeing something that happened in the past or something that’s going to take place in the future. What if my transporting has opened this new dimension? Maybe I’m a clairvoyant now.”
She stands and leans against the wall, next to my Tom Brady cutout. “No, Lance isn’t a cheater. He never would be unfaithful, and there’s no way he’d mess with a student, putting his teaching career and freedom on the line. I think what you saw was real, but that it’s somehow related to Robert.”
“But how?” I stand and stretch.
“Let’s see. You went to the door. You saw Lance doing something illicit.”
“Correct.”
“Didn’t you say that when you transported, there was a door?”
“Yeah, there was but—”
“You said it was dark, and there was a light under the door. Then someone came out, and you felt horrible, like you knew something you shouldn’t.”
I shut my eyes, reflecting on her words. “You know what? The feeling I had when I saw the door in my transport is the same feeling I had when I looked into Lance’s classroom.”
“What if what you saw in Lance’s classroom is similar to what was occurring behind that closed door in your transport?”
“I don’t get it.”
“A man doing something to a girl he shouldn’t have been doing.”
“But what man and what girl?”
“I don’t know. I have to think about it. When is your meeting with Regina?”
“Saturday.”
“You should run this by her. She might remember something.”
“I will.”
My phone rings, disrupting our brainstorming session. I grab it from my cot. “It’s my mother.”
“I need to get back to set anyway. I’ll touch base with you later. I’ll let myself out. Tell your mom I said hi.”
“I will—and thanks, Patty.” I watch her leave and then answer the phone. “Hi, Mom.”
“Where are you? I went outside, and you weren’t there. Your father and I saw you come into the shop earlier.”
“I’m sorry. I had an urgent situation.”
“Gretchen, I’m worried about you.”
“I know you are, Mom. But don’t be.”
“I’ll let your father know you’re okay. How are you and Lance doing?”
“Better.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.” She hangs up.
I think about what Patty said, hoping Regina can shed some light on this latest twist.
Chapter 18
Regina
I review the timeline Gretchen emailed me. Temporarily distracted, I turn toward the window and notice a woman passing the diner, tugging her barking dog’s leash. She reminds me of Kate, who’s at a Mary Kay meeting. After my print job yesterday, I called to tell her I’d be stopping by with Gretchen. She told me to make myself at home and that she’d let Sarah know to expect us. She also revealed that she’s the Kate in Kate & Al’s. Al is her deceased father.
Sarah waits on a table across from me then comes my way. “Can I get you anything?”
“No thank you.”
“Okay,” she says, turning on her heel. She walks toward a stocky woman running the register. They have a powwow, then Sarah disappears into the kitchen, probably to scold the cooks. A couple of customers have complained about their orders.
The last thing I need is food. Taylor didn’t have much to say to me today, still in a foul mood because I refuse to relinquish my search for Robert’s killer. But he did cook burgers and fries for lunch. I ate two burgers. My diet has gone to hell.
I refocus on the timeline. Gretchen was thorough. She even included the robbery. I smile when I think about the shopping spree and feeding the homeless. That was an amazing week. Who knew it would end tragically? When I talked to Gretchen yesterday, she said she wanted to create a list of suspects and motives. I think that’s a good place to start.
I look up as a white Subaru pulls into the parking lot. Gretchen, once again wearing Patriots garb and a ponytail, emerges. She adjusts the tote and the purse hanging off her shoulder. If she ever wears a dress, I probably wouldn’t even recognize her. She thrusts her keys into her jeans pocket then tugs on her Tom Brady jersey. The huge diamond on her left ring finger sparkles in the sunlight. It has to be at least three carats. She told me her fiancé is a teacher. They must pay teachers well these days. She sees me and waves.
When she enters the diner, I beckon her over to the booth. A smile lights up her face as she joins me. “Hey, Regina. How’s it going? How long have you been here?”
“I’m good. I’ve been here about thirty minutes. I wasn’t sure about traffic, and I didn’t want to be late.”
She sets her purse and tote next to her. Her gaze falls on the paperwork I have fanned across the table. “I see you’ve been reviewing everything.”
“Yeah, I have. How was your class?”
“It was great. I work with disadvantaged kids who want to learn about filmmaking. They’ve written a five-minute screenplay, and I’m helping them produce it. They’re talented.” She bursts with pride.
Sarah approaches and asks if we want anything. We both pass. Gretchen scans the diner. “Where’s your friend?”
“Kate’s off today.”
“Well, I guess we should get down to business.” She removes a folder from her tote, then plucks a copy of the timeline from it, and sets the paper on the table.
We both look over our copies, and she says, “How much do you remember about the week leading into Robert’s death?”
I sigh. “To be honest, some parts are crystal clear and other times are a blur. But I do remember the dance, and I remember Lorraine crashing the party. I think she and Robert got into a fight about her being pregnant.”
Gretchen leans in. “I was there. In my transport. That baby wasn’t Robert’s. Lorraine threatened Robert. I think we need to put her o
n the suspect list.”
“What would be the motive?”
“A woman scorned. Even if she didn’t pull the trigger, she could have gotten someone to do it for her.”
Gretchen removes a tablet computer from her tote and takes notes on it. Part of me is excited about moving forward, and another part of me feels ill. I wonder if my mother is right. Maybe digging this up will do more harm than good. Gretchen must sense my apprehension because she places her hand on mine.
“Regina, I know this is hard. I hate to be corny, but no pain, no gain. You’re not on this journey for justice alone. I’m here, and Robert is here.”
Hearing her words, a sense of peace washes over me. “Lorraine’s last name is Curry. I’m not sure what she’s up to today, but I’m sure we can track her down through social media.”
“Who else at that party might have had it in for Robert?” I shut my eyes, thinking about everyone who was there. I draw a blank, and she says, “What about the two bad guys?”
“What two bad guys?”
“When I transported, two guys asked for my—for Robert’s—autograph. They were confrontational, and they mentioned the robbery and asked for their cut.”
“That must have happened while I was on the dance floor. I don’t remember that.” Is she writing a script, or did that really happen? Who knows what she was seeing when she allegedly transported? I glance at my bracelet and remind myself that she knew about the necklace. I have to stop being cynical and work with her.
“I’m putting them on the list,” she says, writing on her tablet.
“Okay.”
“So far we have Lorraine and the two thugs. Did you know everyone at the party?”
“Pretty much—family members, neighbors, people Robert went to school with, and some of his teammates.”
“Anyone suspicious?”
“Not that I can think of at the moment.”
She pulls another sheet of paper out of her tote and places it in front of me. I glance at it, afraid of seeing something I don’t want to see.
The Truth About Gretchen Page 14