Small Town Secrets

by Allie Harrison

  “It’s nice you came home for a while so we could see for ourselves.” They were quiet for several steps before Robert said, “I can see you’ve got something heavier than apples and parental worry on your mind. What is it?”

  It was one trait that made his dad a great cop. His ability to read people. “The Kelly Mattis case.”

  “Ugh.” His father grasped a nearby apple on a branch without picking it. After a thorough inspection, he released it but took a bite from the one he held in his other hand. As he trekked on, Robert’s chuckle sounded bitter. “You’d think after ten years, her murder wouldn’t bother me. Even after staying out here soaking up the sunshine…” He sighed. Loudly.

  Mac listened to chirping birds and bit his lip. He hated more than anything to bring the dark times back on his father, like he was opening an old wound.

  After another deep breath, Robert met Mac’s gaze. “What do you want to know and why? I thought you were coming here to rest and let your leg heal, and to attend your reunion.” He gave Mac a hard, studied stare. “You’re working the case.”

  Feeling like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Mac shrugged. “Kind of. I thought since I was back, I could check out a few things, see if I could gain any insight. Besides, it gives me something to think about besides my damned leg aching.” Or Lizzy. “Like everything else I’ve told you in the last decade, you have to keep it to yourself.”

  Robert grinned. “Oh, yes. The undercover, classified stuff. Your mom and I don’t even tell our friends when we take a vacation to visit you for fear we might get too many questions. We haven’t even told anyone you were shot. Is there some reason you needed to keep everything you’ve done for the last ten years hidden? Why couldn’t you have just gone through the academy and become chief when I retired?”

  It was Mac’s turn to grin. “I don’t know, Dad. It’s just the way it worked out. You know how it is. You take one certain test in college and score a certain grade; next thing you know, the FBI is knocking. Then they notice you’re really good with falling into roles and playing undercover cop. Suddenly, that’s your job.”

  His dad chuckled. “Didn’t quite work that way, did it?”

  “Not quite,” Mac replied. “But close.”

  “If you ever decide to give up keeping secrets, you can always come home for good. And I bet you could even take up residence in my old office at some point. Hell, you can even set up straw bales for the little kids who want to pick apples.”

  “Maybe I will. Especially if I can’t run very far or very fast again.”

  He gazed around at the orchard and breathed in fresh apple-scented air. The idea of staying here, enjoying Mossy Point while no one shot at him sounded damned appealing. A flash of a small house with a picket fence on the other side of the orchard slithered through his mind. A home, with a wife and family. With Lizzy.

  Mac halted that thought like a small fire doused with a bucket of water. Why Lizzy Signorino invaded his thoughts at the same time a bullet entered his body, he couldn’t fathom. More than once, he couldn’t help but wonder just where he would have ended up if it hadn’t been for Kelly Mattis’ murder, or if he and Lizzy hadn’t been outside Marston’s Tunnel that night. At the same time, he questioned why thoughts of Lizzy came to the surface when he’d feared he might be dying. He told himself these thoughts came because he was tired of working undercover, keeping all the secrets. He was tired that his life and his job seemed like little more than a lie. It wasn’t because of Lizzy or that he’d never been able to find closure with her.

  No. Truth was, Kelly Mattis’ murder tore a hole through the middle of his life. And he needed to claw his way beyond it. Lizzy was a jagged edge of that tear, one that he planned to smooth out and leave behind. The sooner, the better. He swallowed hard, knowing he’d do that just as he’d done every other job he’d worked in the past decade.

  As the warming sun rose in the sky, Mac turned, felt an immediate catch in his leg, and winced. As if sensing something was off, Ozzie sauntered up and stuck a cold nose to his leg. Mac leaned down to give the dog’s ears a scratch. The dog seemed to be saying, I feel your pain. I’m here for you.

  “I could probably get my reports and the entire file on Kelly Mattis from Chief Daniels,” Robert suggested. “I could tell him I want to compare a note or two. No one would know you were trying to heat up a cold case.”

  “I already have the entire file, every official report,” Mac said. “And I don’t want to say anything to Chief Daniels or anyone else. No one can know what I’m doing here, even the cops in town. Hell, Jake Swornson is now on the force now. We played sports together in high school, and I’m pretty sure he was one of Kelly’s ‘dates.’ What I need are your notes, whatever extra you kept.”

  When his dad said nothing, Mac continued. “I know how you worked, how you still work. Little notes here and there, just random thoughts.” He let out a light chuckle. “You kept an entire notebook of random thoughts. Just like I do now. And you still have a notebook sitting on your desk at home. I’m sure you have an entire notebook on the Kelly Mattis case alone—maybe even two of them—that you never shared with anyone. I’d be surprised if you don’t sit and read them every night.”

  Bored with their conversation, Ozzie lay down not far from Mac’s feet, rolled over, and rubbed his back in the grass.

  His dad gave him a hard glance before shifting his gaze to the orchard.

  Mac pretended to watch Ozzie.

  Then Robert did a good job of pretending to check the apples on the nearest tree for a long moment. Ozzie jumped to his feet and followed. “Two notebooks,” Robert admitted. “That case tore at me, like nothing else I’ve ever faced. Things like that didn’t happen in little mid-western towns like ours. Not on my watch. I questioned everyone—even you and that pretty girl you had parked not far from that tunnel. When I think about you being that close to a killer, my heart feels like it might pop like a balloon inside my chest.”

  “I think everyone in town has been that close to the killer,” Mac said.

  Robert’s expression narrowed. “Do you know something new? Did you pick up on a clue that I missed in all the reports?”

  “Kind of. Maybe. I think it might be connected to another murder.”

  “Another murder?”

  He hated the way the color disappeared from his dad’s face. Robert blanched as if Mac just punched him in the gut. “Are you sure they’re connected?” The question was nothing more than a whisper.

  Mac shrugged. “Not positive. Only by time and place…and my gut.”

  “That would make our killer a serial. My God.”

  “I know.”

  “How?” Robert asked.

  “Between every case I’ve worked, I was always reading your report, just like you, searching for something that maybe was missed, something that needed further investigation. Kelly was at the dance. She didn’t have a date. And no one remembered seeing her leave. Lizzy and I both only saw one person inside the tunnel that night. Apparently that person saw my truck and back-tracked the other way, leaving no clue, just a stabbed girl.”

  “Nothing new there,” Robert said. “There has to be something else. What is it?”

  Mac contemplated the toes of his old hiking boots. “The question of her finances.”

  Robert’s brows knit together. “What about her finances?”

  “I found a report done by the Major Case Squad stating Kelly had several thousand dollars in a savings account. It was a lot for a teenage girl who never had a paying job. At least a job where she filed income taxes. For the daughter of a single mother who struggled to make ends meet, I haven’t been able to find a single thing to show where she got the money.”

  “I don’t recall that report.”

  Mac passed that by for the moment. “Dad, I’ve thought and thought about it. Her killer had to be someone she trusted. Kelly would have never gone into that creepy tunnel without good reason, and not by herself.�
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  Robert raised a hand, let it fall to his side. “What tipped you off to make you connect it to like crimes, to another murder?”

  “It wasn’t really one single clue. I started putting information into a database, creating something like a map, putting in each remote piece of information to see if any of the dots connected. I put in what I knew.”

  “Such as?” Robert interrupted.

  “The locations of townspeople, persons from my graduating class, during certain spans of time, to see if there were any other unsolved murders.”

  “Why do you think it was someone in your class?”

  “This.”

  From his back pocket Mac removed a printed photo and unfolded it before handing it to his father. Kelly Mattis’ lifeless eyes stared up at the camera. Gashes over her bloody torso gaped open in no particular pattern. The pink dress was stained a garish red. Her left arm stretched over her head; her right arm lay across her waist. Surrounding the body, the brick walls of the tunnel were splattered with her blood.

  Robert glanced down. “Ah, the picture that plagues my nightmares. What about it?”

  “After finishing a case a few months ago, I began studying the photos. Normally, I only read the reports. When I got to this photo and looked closer, I remembered something she’d said long ago. Why I remembered, I have no idea. I guess I’d always been so focused on the blood and the horror I failed to see the fine details. But…shortly before the end of my junior year, I took her to Marston Tunnel.”

  When Robert gave him another sharp look, Mac held up his hands in a defensive motion. “I know. I know. You taught me better than that. I have no excuse. I was a hormone-raging teenage boy, and she was a girl willing and eager to put out. I knew she gave it away to all the guys. And if it’s any consolation, it didn’t really have the happy ending like you think. What’s important was she told me if she could, she’d make me give her my class ring, which I wouldn’t have done anyway.”

  Robert made an impatient growl. “Get to the nitty gritty.”

  “When I asked why she didn’t make me, she said she was very allergic to metal against her skin, almost any metal.”

  Robert glanced down at the photo again. “She’s wearing a bracelet in this photo.”

  “Exactly. A bracelet I didn’t notice before because I was too busy looking at everything else. Her parents never saw the bracelet because it was put into an evidence box. Otherwise, I’m sure her mom would have picked up on it.”

  “Shit.” Robert let out a long breath. “What’s engraved on it?”

  “Number One, using the pound symbol and the numeral.”

  “That’s it?”

  Mac shook his head slightly. “Yep.”

  “And you think the killer’s someone in town? Why?”

  Mac took the photo from his father and pointed down at the bracelet. “Aside from the tiny number one, see the upside-down heart?”

  Robert studied it closer. “Yes.”

  “That was a mistake on the part of the manufacturer. I remember when we made jewelry in metal working class. Our teacher, Mr. Crinden, explained how he got most of those supplies at a discount because there were flaws in them. One flaw being the upside-down heart. If he did it, I’m sure other metal working teachers from other schools may have done similar things to save money. And maybe I’m taking a leap, but it’s a big coincidence that a dead girl who was allergic to metal would wear a bracelet made from pieces I remember from a high school class. I don’t believe in coincidence.”

  “You saw these bracelets?” Robert asked. “These jewelry pieces?”

  Mac hesitated for a moment and then could find no better words. “I made one.”

  “Sweet Heavens.”

  That hadn’t been what Mac had said when he’d focused on the bracelet and remembered. As if Ozzie had been left out of the conversation too long, he cantered over Mac’s right foot. When Mac ignored him, he pranced to Robert.

  His dad stooped down and rubbed Ozzie with gusto as if he needed to touch something warm and loving after receiving such news. He shook his head in disbelief. “Then we need to check out everyone who took metal working class and made jewelry.”

  “I already did that.”

  His father’s hand did not still. “And?”

  “It added names to my list of suspects. I couldn’t remember who was with whom at the dance. And that doesn’t even count anyone who could have gotten their hands on the jewelry.”

  Ozzie, who was oblivious to the horror of their conversation, pretty much enfolded his body against Robert’s leg, gaining all the attention from the stroking human hand.

  “That’s why I need your notes,” Mac said. “I need to know who you thought might be holding something back or who might be lying so I can compare them to my long list. And I also need to compare notes so I can see if anything connects to where Kelly got all the money in her account.”

  “Since I could have simply sent you my notebook, you must have someone in mind,” his father pointed out.

  “I needed to come back anyway. I needed to let myself heal, and something told me this was the best place to do it. A lot of things flashed through my mind when I was lying there on a hospital gurney, thinking I might not make it.”

  Like all the things he’d left unsaid, things never done.

  “I’ll bet.”

  “There’s more, Dad. One of my classmates attended the University of Missouri. The victim of the second, unsolved murder lived in Columbia, Missouri. She’d taken some classes at the university. And this classmate of mine took wood shop and metal shop class.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Lizzy Signorino’s brother.”

  It amazed him how, after he’d been shot, Lizzy’s name and face climbed to the top of his thoughts. He didn’t think Tony Signorino. He thought Lizzy’s brother.

  His dad let out a sad, frustrated sigh. “Hell and damnation.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Hell. It was where he felt this case and the two bullets that left scars on his body—and the hole Lizzy left in his heart—placed him.

  When Robert attempted to move, Ozzie put a paw on him, as if the action would keep the rub-down coming. The dog wagged his tail and panted happily.

  Oh, to have the life of a canine, Mac thought.

  Chapter Two

  On the drive into the town of Mossy Point, Mac remembered every detail about homecoming night as if it happened yesterday.

  It had been one of the nicest nights of his life, even though it started out as a dare. His best friend, Kyle, dared him to speak to Lizzy Signorino. Of course, everyone knew her. After all, her father owned and operated the lone bakery in town. Mac never thought mousy little Lizzy Signorino could speak, much less utter an intelligent word. He was certain that in three years of high school he’d never seen her without her nose buried in a book. She seemed to work at being invisible. As far as everyone seemed concerned, she was.

  So when he told Kyle he needed a “worthy” girl to take to the homecoming dance, Kyle said, “You should ask the little Italian baker. Her dad might give you some free donuts or something. After all, you should give the loser girls a chance, too, now and then.”

  Mac had looked across the hall to where the little Italian baker stood at her locker. She wasn’t like other girls. She didn’t have a mirror stuck on the inside of the locker door. Her hair, the color of gold honey with hints of red spun through it, was held back from her face in a simple pony tail. She grabbed her physics book and hurried away, not noticing him. Sarcastically he’d thought, I should give her a chance. It’s senior year. She’ll probably never get another chance to attend a dance, at least with the assistant captain of the football team.

  As assistant captain of the football team, he should be generous. “Why not?” he’d muttered.

  He remembered that it took him several steps as he followed her down the hall to remember her real name and not actually call her little Italian baker.

&nb
sp; She’d stared at him for a whole ten seconds after he asked her to go to the dance with him, ensuring his earlier thought that she really didn’t speak. Then she’d replied, very politely, in a voice he thought was only given to angels, “I would love to go with you, thank you.”

  There’d been something almost physical in her eyes that grabbed on and held him tight. Just as suddenly, this was no longer a dare, nothing even close to a prank. Drawn to her immediately, he found himself quietly looking forward to the dance.

  Then he’d been the one who was floored and speechless when he’d come to her door to pick her up, a purple and white flower wrist corsage in his hands. Her hair was pinned up, decorated with tiny pearls and wispy curls framing her face. Her eyes were brilliantly green and large on her flawless face. She’d obviously been hiding all that beauty, although he had no idea where.

  A few simple thoughts had flashed through his mind as he stood there dumbfounded. She’s with me. She’s going to dance with me. And no one else is going to get close to her.

  She’s mine.

  Then her father, the baker, who stood holding the door open to him, broke the spell. “I trust you will keep my daughter safe, Mr. McLane.”

  He’d had to blink and clear his throat before he could croak out, “Yes, sir.”

  Her mother had insisted on pictures.

  Mac barely remembered them being taken. He was pretty sure they’d floated through the dance, and he couldn’t recall what he’d eaten when he took her to dinner.

  It had been eleven long years, all behind him. He thought.

  Then two shots left him bleeding, possibly dying, and certainly questioning his life’s work along with so many things about his life: the stupid decisions of his high school years; the one wonderful yet horrible night with Lizzy. Now, as he drove through his hometown, he remembered every detail.

  From the soft, flowery scent of Lizzy’s hair and the lacy touch of her panties under her dress to the nightmare of knowing someone had used a knife on Kelly Mattis, to the harsh but deadly quiet sound of Lizzy’s father accusing him of breaking his word and putting Lizzy in danger.