“Great,” Lindsey said. She wrote down the names, putting a star beside Ava Klausner since she found it odd that she’d left at the same time as Sylvia.
“Was there anything else I can help you with?” Jean asked.
“That’s it, thanks,” Lindsey said. “I’ll be in touch if I have more questions.”
“I’ll be here,” Jean said. Her tone was full of resignation, as if this was her lot in life and would be for years to come.
Lindsey ended the call and immediately opened up the internet browser on her computer. A quick search for Ava Klausner turned up nothing, which was weird. Usually professional people showed up on corporate networks, if nothing else. She checked the other two names and found listings for both of them.
She debated whether she should go deeper into her search or whether she should just hand over the names to Emma. She knew that would be the mature and responsible thing to do, but the need to know was like a worm in her head.
There was a knock on the door, and she glanced up to see Ms. Cole standing there.
“Hi,” she said. She noted Ms. Cole was frowning. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m not sure.” Ms. Cole’s color choice today was shades of yellow, making it a very chipper if somewhat eye-watering ensemble. “This message was left for you on the library voice mail.”
Ms. Cole handed her a pink phone slip, and Lindsey noted that it was from Emma, asking her to drop by the police station as soon as she got in.
“Huh.” Lindsey glanced at the clock. She had a half hour until the library opened. “I guess I could go over there now.”
“It doesn’t feel right, though, does it?” Ms. Cole asked. She paused in the doorway and lowered her glasses. She glanced at Lindsey over the top edges. “Emma is your friend. Why would she leave a message on the library voice mail and not your office number or, even more likely, your cell phone?”
Lindsey lowered the note in her hand. She reached into the purse she’d dumped in her bottom drawer and checked her phone. There was no message from Emma.
“You’re right—that is odd,” Lindsey said. “I think I’ll call and verify this message. Thank you.”
Ms. Cole gave her a quick nod and then went back to checking in materials. Lindsey picked up her cell phone. She was feeling edgy all of a sudden and even scanned the library, looking for anything amiss, but all was normal. It was just her and Ms. Cole in the building, which was still locked. They were safe.
She called Emma’s cell phone. Emma picked up on the third ring.
“Lindsey, I don’t have time right now,” Emma said. “I know you’re upset, but this has to be done according to protocol.”
“I’m sorry?” Lindsey said. “What are you talking about? I’m returning your call.”
“I didn’t call you,” Emma said. “I’m sorry, but you can’t do anything here. I have to take Sully in, and you are just going to have to trust in the system.”
“What?” Lindsey cried. “What do you mean, ‘take Sully in’?”
“Oh, I thought you were—” Emma cut herself off. “I’ll have him call you when we’re at the station.”
“No, you tell me what’s going on now, Emma,” Lindsey said. “As my friend, tell me what’s happening!”
“I’m sorry, Lindsey.” Emma’s voice was low. “Ballistics matched the gun found at the scene as the same weapon that killed Aaron Grady, and it’s been identified by serial number as belonging to Captain Michael Sullivan. I have to arrest him, Lindsey. He doesn’t have an alibi. I have no choice.”
Lindsey slumped back in her seat. She felt as if all the air had just been sucked out of her body.
“Emma, wait. Let me talk to him,” Lindsey demanded. Silence greeted her. Emma had already hung up.
Lindsey jumped out of her chair. Her coffee was forgotten on the desk as she grabbed her purse and hurried out to the main room.
“Ms. Cole, something has come up,” she said. “Have Ann Marie cover the reference desk when we open, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Something in her face must have warned Ms. Cole away from asking questions, because she merely said, “Okay.”
But she was speaking to Lindsey’s back as Lindsey dashed down the narrow hall toward the staff exit. She banged through the heavy metal door and out onto the sidewalk. The air was even more oppressive than it had been earlier, and she took a soggy gulp of it as she prepared to jog to the police station and get to the bottom of things.
Lindsey had her phone in hand and was trying to call Sully. It went right to voice mail. Why hadn’t he called her to tell her what was happening? She tried Beth’s number, but there was no answer, probably because she was headed to work and wouldn’t get any notifications while en route. Then she tried Robbie. He answered on the first ring.
“I know you’re upset—” he said.
“Upset?” she cried. “You know as well as I do that he didn’t do this. How could Emma—”
“You know she has to do this by the book precisely so it doesn’t look like there’s any favoritism,” Robbie said.
“Yes, but—” Lindsey began but was cut off when a car screeched to a stop in front of her. Thinking it might be Charlie or Ian coming to get her, she glanced up, leaving herself completely unprepared when the driver popped out of the car and slapped her phone out of her hands with the butt of a gun. “What the—!”
The driver was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt with the string of the hood pulled tight around their face and aviators. Just as Chloe had described her attacker. Panic made Lindsey’s heart about stop.
“Robbie! Help!” she cried as she began to back away. She hoped the phone could pick up her voice. “Chloe’s attacker is here—”
Lindsey turned to run. She was seconds too late as the gun came down hard on her temple. The ground flew up at her face, and everything went black.
CHAPTER
17
It was the overpowering smell of roses that roused her—well, that and the throbbing in her temple, which felt like a hammer trying to pound a hole in her skull from the inside. Lindsey put her fingers on the pain place, half expecting to find something lodged in her head. There was a bump, and when she lifted her fingers away from it, they were sticky with blood.
She could feel it then. The blood. It was caked on the side of her head. It matted her hair and ran down her jawline in a crusty smear. Her eyes blinked against the daylight. She was lying on a path, a narrow walkway between towering trellises of roses. Looking up made her dizzy, so she glanced back down at her clothes. Her white skirt and blouse were dirty and covered in blood. She’d managed to lose a shoe.
She scanned the area. As far as she could tell, she was alone. But that wasn’t right. Why go to the trouble of knocking her out and dragging her wherever she was just to leave her alone? Still, her flight response was kicking in as her heart rate increased.
She pushed up to her hands and knees. The grass beneath her hands was dry and brittle and stuck to her sweat-soaked skin. Her breathing was ragged and she was shaking. She felt dizzy and woozy, but she didn’t want to let the opportunity to escape pass her by. She tried to figure out which way to go. She couldn’t see anything beyond the towering trellises of roses. Their big fist-sized blooms mocked her with their cheery profusion of petals in every color, from the purest white to the darkest crimson. The smell was overpowering, and she felt as if she was choking on the pungent sweetness.
She stood on wobbly knees and moved in the direction where her feet had been. She figured if she’d been dragged in here, then her feet would be pointing in the direction from which she’d come. It wasn’t much of a theory, but it was all she had.
Her balance came back with every step she took, and she started to move more quickly, striding through the mazelike bushes until the roses were a blur in her peripheral vision. She rounded on
e corner and then another. Her heart was beating fast now, thumping with each step she took closer to freedom. When she turned the third corner and found herself staring up at a wall of thorny roses, her elation was smashed flat. It was a dead end. She turned around and went in the other direction, certain that this time she’d get out. Four more turns and she was at another dead end.
A disembodied laugh sounded over her own rasping wheeze. It was a mocking laugh, the sort a cat would make when it had a mouse cornered in a cupboard. It made the hair stand up on Lindsey’s arms.
“You didn’t really think you were going to be able to get out of here, did you?” the voice, a woman’s, asked.
Lindsey didn’t know where to look. She couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from, but it was clear that there were cameras out here and someone had been watching her try to find her way out. The thought of it made her furious, which was a hell of a lot better than being afraid. She hugged the feeling to her middle, letting it spark her courage, like a torch pushing out the darkness and letting in the light.
“What do you want with me?” she asked.
The laughter started up again. Lindsey whipped around in a circle, making certain no one was sneaking up on her. It was then that she saw the blinking eye of a camera and the tiny speaker attached to it.
“You’re so smart, librarian—why don’t you tell me what I want from you?”
The woman’s tone was mocking, as if she knew she had all the power. Well, to hell with that. Lindsey glanced around, looking for something, anything to use as a tool. There wasn’t much. Thick rose bushes covered the wooden trellises that formed row upon row of the crazy maze she was in. She had once been in a cornfield maze when a storm blew up, and she and her friends had been stuck while hail rained mercilessly down on them. She had decided not to be a victim and had pushed through wall upon wall of corn until she busted right out the side of the maze.
The roses were too thick and the wooden trellises that supported them were too strong for her to just bust through them, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t go up and over. She looked for the thinnest patch of roses, and then she went in. Ignoring the thorns that clawed at her clothes and skin, she used the trellis to hoist herself up. It was slow going, as she had to search for spots to grab, plus she was missing a shoe, adding to the challenge.
“Hey!” the voice shouted. “What are you doing? Stop that!”
Lindsey ignored her. If she was getting upset, then Lindsey was on the right path. She hauled herself up, gritting her teeth when a thorn dug into her palm. The trellis was sturdy, and once she reached the top, she saw that the four-by-four top of the trellis was clear. Someone had kept the roses meticulously pruned to stay below the top edge. With a laugh, Lindsey looked around her. She was standing on a trellis in the middle of a rose maze in the back of what she now recognized as Aaron Grady’s yard. Oh no.
“Hey! Get down!”
Lindsey ignored the voice and eyeballed the shortest distance between her and the edge of the maze. She began to pick her way across the top of the trellis, trying to hurry and keep her balance, neither of which was easy, as she was missing a shoe, had a throbbing headache and was hampered by the roses, which scratched her skin, tugged at her skirt and slowed her progress.
Lindsey didn’t bother looking for the woman. She knew who it was. It had to be Sylvia Grady 2.0. She must have been the one who’d jumped out of the car and clocked Lindsey on the head. Given the outfit choice—the black hoodie and sunglasses—she now knew for certain who Chloe’s attacker had been as well. Lindsey could only guess why Sylvia wanted her. With Chloe in a safe house, there wasn’t anyone else to frame for Grady’s murder.
Sylvia must not have known that Sully had been taken into custody this morning. That was a problem for Lindsey, as Sylvia likely figured she still needed a suspect. No matter. As soon as Lindsey could find a phone, she was calling Emma to come and collect the lunatic who had attacked both her and Chloe and had undoubtedly shot and killed Aaron Grady. In the meantime, Lindsey was on her own.
She reached the end of the row and saw the long winding drive to the main road ahead of her. The roses were thick here, and climbing down was impossible. She decided to jump and hope she didn’t break anything while sticking the landing. She didn’t hesitate. She just jumped. The ground was hard, and she fell to her knees as a shooting pain caused her ankle to buckle. She gritted her teeth and forced herself back to her feet. She had to hurry. She took quick steps toward the road ahead.
With every step, Lindsey thought she might actually make it. She wondered later whether it was the blood loss that had made her such a cockeyed optimist. As she stepped out of the cover of the rose maze, Sylvia Grady appeared in front of her, holding the same gun she had clobbered Lindsey with. By Lindsey’s count, this was the third gun Sylvia had pulled on someone. The woman must really love her guns.
“Don’t move,” Sylvia said.
She was still wearing the black hooded sweatshirt, but the hood was down and she wasn’t wearing the sunglasses. Still, given her height and build, there was no doubt that she was the one who had attacked Lindsey outside the library. But why? When Sylvia failed to make it look as if Chloe had committed suicide, she must have realized that anything she did was going to be suspect.
“Whatever you think you’re going to do, it’s not going to work,” Lindsey said. “The police arrested Aaron’s killer this morning.”
“Right,” Sylvia said. “As if I’d believe you.”
Lindsey shrugged and then winced. Now that she was standing still and not running for her life, even the smallest movement made her head hurt.
“Suit yourself, but if you kill me and stage some elaborate confession, you’ll just be giving the police somewhere to look other than at Sully, who is in jail even as we speak,” she said. “That’s where I was going when you grabbed me.”
Sylvia’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t believe Lindsey, but would she risk harming her and having it ruin what might already be in play? Lindsey doubted it.
“Come on,” Sylvia snapped. She gestured with the gun for Lindsey to walk.
Lindsey thought about breaking into a run. If this had been a corn maze instead of a rose one, she might have given it a try, but there was no quick escape here. She started walking. She noticed that Sylvia was keeping her distance.
“Why did you kill him?” Lindsey asked.
“Shut up,” Sylvia said. “You’re going to be dead soon. I have no reason to explain anything to you.”
“No, but it would be the civil thing to do,” Lindsey said. “I mean, if you’re going to kill me. You should at least explain why, Sylvia—or should I call you Ava?”
Sylvia’s chin tipped up. She looked taken aback, as if she hadn’t thought anyone would be able to figure out that she was an imposter. Lindsey decided to push her advantage.
“You are Ava, aren’t you?” she asked. The words tripped over themselves as she panted for breath, winded from her frantic climb up the trellis and hurting from the jump. “What happened, Ava? Did you kill Sylvia, or did Aaron? Were you two having an affair? I know you worked with Sylvia at Sunrise Health. How did you manage to take her identity within the company? How did they not figure it out?”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Ava waved her gun at Lindsey. “You don’t know anything!”
“I know the real Sylvia is dead, and I know you’re not her,” Lindsey bluffed. She glanced over her shoulder. “I know everything.”
For a second—a nanosecond, really—a look of panic swept over Ava’s face. Then she scowled. Frustrated, she grunted and shoved Lindsey so hard in the back that she stumbled to the ground. Her head was throbbing, and she was pretty sure her clothes were done for, but she was still alive.
“How’d you figure it out?” Ava asked. She paced around Lindsey where she was sprawled on the ground, half pushed up on her arm
s and ready to flee if given half a chance. “Did Rosie rat me out?”
Lindsey had no idea who Rosie was, but she figured this was the opening she needed to stall for time and try to figure out what was going on in Ava’s obviously unstable brain. She just had to remain calm. She could find a way out. She was sure of it.
“Yeah, Rosie told me everything,” she said.
“Ha!” Ava scoffed. She leaned toward Lindsey. “Nice try. Rosie doesn’t exist. You’re a moron, trying to trip me up with lies and guesses. Well, it won’t work.”
Lindsey gritted her teeth. Her misstep seemed to make Ava more confident, and she grabbed Lindsey by the arm and hauled her to her feet.
“I just need to hide you,” Ava said. “Until I know if they’re going to arrest your boyfriend or not. If they do, well, you’ll just have to disappear from the shame of it all.”
“No one will believe that,” Lindsey said. “I would never abandon Sully.”
“Is that so?” Ava laughed. “Then maybe that cute British actor friend of yours will have to disappear, too. Maybe the two of you ran off together. Oh, yes, that could totally work. Oh, even better, I’ll kill Chloe and make it look like the two of you ran off together. It’s her fault I’m here, after all.”
“Her fault?” Lindsey asked. “What did Chloe have to do with you coming to Briar Creek? Did Aaron follow her? Is that why you tried to kill her and make it look like suicide?” Ava shook her head, and Lindsey said, “No, don’t deny it. I know it was you. You’re wearing the same outfit you wore when you attacked her.”
“You,” Ava spat. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t turned Aaron’s head. I had a plan. When he moved us to be near her, I decided to kill Chloe, preferably right in front of Aaron so that he would know never to look at another woman again, but then you flirted with him and got him interested in you, too.”
“I did not flirt with him,” Lindsey argued. She knew it was pointless. Ava wasn’t going to acknowledge what she said, but she couldn’t let such a horrible statement stand without challenge.
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