by Jody Holford
“Small towns, huh?” He gave a conspiratorial smile that turned Molly’s stomach. It was only because she wanted to ask him a few things about the competition that she didn’t end the conversation.
“Our police department is doing everything they can to find her killer.”
“Heard she was found by a local crazy?”
Molly gripped the pen tighter. “I’m not sure that I have any further information for you.”
This man was part of the reason she hadn’t enjoyed editing for larger conglomerates. Britton Bay might be small and despite recent events, very quiet, but Molly felt good about what was printed and shared online. No one at the Britton Bay Bulletin was looking to race up the ladder. They were where they wanted to be, which, in her opinion, removed the harsh competitive streak that could exist in some work environments.
“Where are Skyler’s sous chefs?”
“Staying at the hotel until the police have okayed them to leave town.”
“Pretty big damper on someone’s wedding event. I stopped by the bed-and-breakfast and, before I was asked to leave, noticed they were tearing down the tents and tables.”
Molly smiled. She could imagine Katherine’s response to a slick talking, slick looking man who thought he could charm a story out of anyone.
“It’s been very sad for everyone involved. Would it be all right if I asked you a couple of things for my own curiosity?” Molly hoped her earlier tone hadn’t changed his mind about sharing.
“Why not. I’m here anyway.” He didn’t seem happy that he’d wasted his time, but since he could have phoned Molly for the information, she didn’t feel bad.
Pressing the top of the pen, she wrote Ethan’s name at the top.
“What was Skyler like during the contest?” Molly wasn’t entirely certain what she was digging for, but something wasn’t fitting together. Skyler’s small pleasure of fame and her bad attitude just didn’t seem worth killing for. Perhaps if she knew more about the woman, she could figure out what would drive someone to hurt her.
“She was intense. Hard-core, really. She almost lost a couple of times. I only tried once to talk to her during the actual competition—we could do that—circle the stage while they were in the middle of preparations and ask them questions about how they were feeling, what they were doing, what they thought of the other contestants.”
“It doesn’t sound as though she’d changed much. She definitely liked to be in charge of her kitchen,” Molly said, not writing anything down. It was nothing she didn’t know.
“She and the third-place finalist got into some pretty heated battles. She’s very strict about her work area. No one who isn’t approved is allowed near anything she cooks. The other guy liked getting in her space, provoking her. I’m not sure if it was for the drama of the show or what, but it came off real enough.”
“Wow. I’m not sure I could handle that much drama. I didn’t see any of that online. I only watched some of the last episode though.”
“Oh, they ended up not showing it in the footage. They edited the material to take him out entirely because of how he was eliminated.”
“What do you mean?”
“He vandalized her station, which violated the rules of the contest. They booted him, cut him from the contest and all the footage.”
Sitting straighter, fingers buzzing like she’d touched a live wire, Molly tried to stay calm when she asked, “That sounds like someone with an axe to grind. Is it possible this person would want revenge?”
Ethan frowned. “Would have been nice for the added touch of drama, but no. They clearly worked things out.”
Did he realize how callous it was for him to suggest more drama would have been nice for the woman who was murdered only days ago? Skyler Friessen obviously had more drama than she could handle. And it had led to her death. Maybe they’d been looking at things all wrong. Maybe someone had followed Skyler to town, lying in wait for their chance. The sheriff said it was personal. Skyler knew her attacker.
“What makes you so sure they worked things out?”
Leaning back in the chair, he crossed one foot over his knee. “I doubt she would have taken him onto her team for this latest event if they were at odds.”
It didn’t click at first. The words replayed in her head on a loop. Her team. Her team only included two people.
Molly slapped the pen down on paper. “What was the contestant’s name?”
The reporter looked at her as if she’d just asked what her own name was. His eyebrows rose, and he leaned closer. “Kyle Wilks. Surely you know he’s on her team.”
He looked at her like Blake had looked at the sheriff the other day: like she was too small-town to connect the dots. But he had no idea how many dots she’d just strung together to make what was, in her mind, a very clear picture.
Chapter Twenty-One
The air in the room felt charged and heavy. Her skin felt too tight to contain the energy coursing through her.
“I actually didn’t realize Mr. Wilks had been in the competition,” Molly said, shocked that her voice sounded smooth and rational. Glancing at her phone, she picked it up and held it up to him. “I apologize, but I forgot I have an important meeting to get to. If you have any more questions, Elizabeth, out front, can help you.”
Molly didn’t wait for him to respond, even though she heard his sounds of protest. She grabbed her purse, stuck her phone in her pocket and headed for the back door. “Be back later.”
No one questioned her, and she was in her Jeep within a literal minute of Dorsey telling her the news that was currently blocking her airway. She gripped her steering wheel, straightening her arms so her back pushed into the seat.
“Breathe. Breathe.” After three attempts to click her seat belt into place, she finally pulled out of the Britton Bay Bulletin’s back lot, and headed for the police station. Using the ‘Hey Siri’ feature on her phone, she called Sam.
“Hey. I was just thinking of you.”
“I think Kyle Wilks killed Skyler,” she blurted.
“Aw, I miss you, too, cupcake.”
Unbelievably, she laughed. “Okay. Sorry. Hi, Sam.”
His chuckle calmed her breathing in a way nothing else did. “Hi, Molly. You were saying?”
“I really think it’s him.”
“You thought it was him last night.”
“I know. But now I have even more reason. I’m not sure if he’s back at the bed-and-breakfast, but I don’t like the idea of your mom being there, even with others around. I’m going to talk to Chris right now.”
“You really think they’re in danger?”
Stopping at a streetlight, she forced her fingers to loosen on the steering wheel. He wasn’t just going to go out and kill again.
“I don’t think we should chance anything. Will you head over there?”
“Of course I will. Can you do me a favor and stay safe?”
She smiled even though he couldn’t see her. “I can do that. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Once she parked at the station, Molly took a minute to text Chantel and ask if Blake had been released. When she didn’t text back, she tucked her phone in her purse to head inside. Chris was coming down the station steps when she reached them. He lowered sunglasses over his eyes, but she knew he saw her.
“Molly.”
“Chris, I have something important to tell you,” she said, turning to walk beside him.
“I don’t have time to talk right now.” He didn’t even look at her. Okay, fine, maybe she was a bit of a nuisance, but it was for a very good reason.
“Chris, this matters. You’ll want to know this,” she said.
He sighed—heavily—and stopped walking. “What is it about me that makes you think I can’t do my own job?”
She stopped in her tracks, feeling like she’d been
scalded with hot water. “I’ve never said anything like that. If you weren’t good at your job and I didn’t have the utmost respect for you, why would I bring you any information?”
Before he could answer, or she could tell him he was wasting time trying to avoid having a conversation with her by having a pointless one, another officer jogged up beside them.
“Ready to go, Boss?” the deputy Molly had seen the other night asked.
“Sure thing. Grab the cruiser,” Chris said.
The deputy glanced at Molly, then nodded and did as asked.
“I have ten seconds, Molly.”
Irritated, fueled with adrenaline, and swallowing down a small dose of hurt feelings, Molly stiffened her spine. “Then I’ll make it quick. Kyle Wilks was a jilted contestant in the contest Skyler won, as well as a jilted lover. He was aware of her allergies and slept with her the night before she died. He’s already moved onto a bridesmaid and last night I witnessed him become quite aggressive and hostile. I hope I haven’t gone over my ten seconds.”
She spun on her heel, even as a cruiser pulled up beside them, and started to stalk off. Chris called her name. Inhaling and exhaling sharply, she turned back.
“Did he hurt you?”
She frowned. “Who?”
Chris’s eyebrows rose behind his sunglasses. “Wilks.”
Because she was tired of being an underappreciated responsible citizen, she forgot to bite back her retort. “No, Officer Beatty. The only one who’s managed that is you.”
Whipping around before tears could fall, she hurried for her Jeep. Once inside, she kept her head down as the cruiser turned on their lights and headed, quickly, out of the parking lot.
Molly wasn’t generally prone to tears, but all the emotion, activity, and lack of sleep was pushing at her every button. Swiping her eyes with the heels of her hands, then starting the car, she, too, left the lot. She thought of how Skyler had trusted Kyle and let him into her bed, into her life, and he had used what he knew about her—her weaknesses—against her. He was a monster. Hopefully he wasn’t at the bed-and-breakfast with Shannon. Shannon. She could swing by the hotel and see if the sous chef was there. Or call Sam and see if she’s at the B and B. If the police weren’t going to take her seriously, she had to at least warn the woman, didn’t she?
Since the hotel was on the way to the bed-and-breakfast, Molly swung by there. When she pulled into the lot, she understood why Chris had brushed her off. Whipping into a parking spot, Molly hurried out of the Jeep and toward the commotion by the pool. Kyle Wilks was being hauled out of the water by Chris and the deputy. Shannon was rushing up the ladder. She could hear them all talking, but couldn’t make out the words until she was closer.
“Kyle Wilks, you have the right to remain silent,” Chris began.
“What’s going on?” Shannon said, grabbing a towel from one of the lounge chairs. A couple of people had opened the doors to their cottages and were watching.
“Ma’am, I’ll need you to step back, please,” the deputy said as Chris cuffed Kyle.
“But, what’s going on?” Shannon’s voice rose several octaves.
Chris’s voice drowned hers out. “For the murder of Skyler Friessen.”
Shannon whirled and launched herself at Kyle. “You son of a—”
With the reflexes of a cheetah, the deputy stopped her words and actions. “Nope. You need to back down, ma’am.”
Shannon tried to look around the man restraining her by the shoulders. “He killed Skyler?”
“I didn’t! This is garbage! Shannon, I didn’t do this,” Kyle yelled, wrestling with the handcuffs. Chris gave him a hard nudge that had him settling down and scowling over his shoulder.
Another officer showed up on the scene and began asking people to go back into their rooms. Kyle kept yelling at Shannon, telling her it wasn’t him. He caught Molly’s eye and the contempt she saw there was enough to flip her stomach like a bad egg.
“You! What did you do?” Kyle yelled. Chris glanced in her direction, but she couldn’t see his eyes behind the shades.
The other two officers worked at getting people to go back to what they were doing, but when Molly looked over, Shannon just stood there, a towel wrapped around her shoulders. Even from a slight distance, Molly could see she was shivering. Walking toward her, Molly moved into the woman’s line of sight.
“Shannon?”
The woman blinked a few times, then looked at Molly.
A harsh shiver wracked her body. Her slim figure could be glimpsed at through the towel. Her hair was slicked back from her face and she looked incredibly pale and small standing in a wet bathing suit, staring after someone she’d trusted as he was put into the back of a police cruiser.
“I can’t believe he would hurt her,” she said so low, Molly almost didn’t hear her.
“I know. I’m sorry. Can I…do anything? Help you?”
“We’ll need to ask you some questions, ma’am.” Deputy—what was his name? Michael?—sidled up to them, glancing with recognition at Molly.
“I’m sure it would be fine if she put some clothes on first, right?” Molly said, hoping Shannon was in the right frame of mind to answer the officer.
She nodded, absently, looking at Molly. “Yes. I need to get dressed.”
“Of course, ma’am. We’ll let you do that, then we have a few questions to ask,” the officer said, standing back and giving them what he probably figured amounted to privacy.
“Do you need anything? Can I call anyone?” Molly asked, feeling helpless.
Shannon shook her head. “No. I…I don’t know. I should grab my clothes,” she said, turning. Her towel fell, like she couldn’t hold onto it and move at the same time. Molly grabbed it up from the concrete and settled it back on her shoulders, her fingers brushing over the woman’s skin, along a tattooed line of black stars with tails that made them look as if they were shooting across the sky. Or, her shoulder, in this case.
“Here,” Molly said, grateful when Shannon scooped up her clothes in one arm and gripped the towel around her shoulders with her other hand.
In her bare feet, she started to walk away, but turned back to Molly. “I…I don’t know how long this will take. Can you get a message to the bed-and-breakfast? I think everyone is heading home anyway, but we were paid to do a job and I don’t want them to think I’m not finishing it.”
Molly’s heart ached for this woman who’d lost two friends in the span of a few days. Cruelly. Bobbing her head up and down, working to keep her emotions at bay, she said she would.
“If you need anything, please let me know. Will you be by the bed-and-breakfast later?”
“Yes. If the wedding is off and I’m free to go, there’s no reason to stay.”
What a terrible way for all of this to end. “Please stop by to say goodbye.”
A wistful smile touched Shannon’s lips. “I will. Thank you for being so kind.”
As the woman walked away and Molly looked over at the two officers talking, keeping their eyes on Shannon, she thought the world could use a little more kindness. And even though a killer had been caught, she went back to her Jeep feeling incredibly sad.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Molly typed up the article for the online edition of the Britton Bay Bulletin, sharing only the surface information about Kyle’s arrest. Since she had the bulk of the information, it seemed easier than asking Jill to do it. Besides, she hoped the words would take the heaviness from her shoulders. The sadness in Shannon’s eyes wouldn’t leave her and she carried it around for most of the day.
Elizabeth and Alan had left the office early to celebrate Alan’s wife’s birthday. Clay had hung around for a bit, sullen as usual, but Molly wasn’t sorry when everyone left, and she was on her own. She didn’t know how to sort through the sadness of everything. And while pursuing tips and clues
, she hadn’t let herself absorb how horrifying the events of the last few days had been.
A woman had died. Her lover and friend had intentionally taken her life because of what? Molly knew there was a lot of bad things in the world, but it troubled her how much of it could not be made sense of.
Her phone rang, seeming to echo in the quiet of the empty building. In her office, she couldn’t even hear the hum of the fridge. Tigger lifted his head from his curled position on the doggy bed on the floor. She swiped the screen, seeing it was her mom.
“Hey. How are you?” Molly shut down her laptop.
“I’m good. I’d ask how you are, but I keep seeing all the twits about what’s going on where you live. How is it you move to a small town and there’s more trouble there than in Los Angeles?”
Molly’s laughter bubbled up. “Twits?”
“Yes. On the internet.”
She shook her head, grateful that with all the bad in the world, she had her own pocket of good. “Why are you on Twitter, Mom?”
“So I can follow you.”
Pushing away from her desk, Molly wandered out into the main area, shutting the window blinds as she went. “You should come see me instead.”
“I need to see you. I need to see with my own eyes that you’re doing okay,” her mom said.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Fine never means fine, honey. I know how you carry things. How you think you’ve let them go, but they drag you down. Tell me how you’re really doing.”
A sharp ache settled under her rib cage. Checking the lock on the front door, she decided it was time to head home.
“Molly.” The mom undertone rang heavy even through the phone.
“I just don’t know how anyone is supposed to know what’s real and what isn’t. You think you can trust someone and they stab you in the back. You fall in love and your heart gets handed to you in crumpled pieces. How do you ever really know who anyone is, Mom?”
She didn’t really expect an answer as she walked back to her office and grabbed her purse, snapping at Tigger to get his attention.