“They looked for signs of sexual assault during the autopsy. They didn’t find any, but it didn’t appear that Abby was a virgin.”
“Really? Are you sure?” Lisa asked in surprise. “I can’t believe Abby wouldn’t have told me. Who would she have slept with?”
“What about Jason Marlow? What kind of relationship did you two have with him?”
“We just drove around one night and had some drinks. He was a cool kid, but he had a thing for Kara Murray.”
Lauren frowned. “But Jason was best friends with Colin.”
Lisa shrugged. “He still had a thing for her.”
“It’s funny that the woman who saw you didn’t mention seeing a guy in the car.”
“Who knows if she really saw us? Maybe she just wants to be in the movie.” Lisa paused. “Let’s have a drink one night before you leave. You were the closest thing I had to a big sister and it would be nice to catch up.” She took a breath. “It would be difficult, but if you want me to help you go through Abby’s room, I will.”
Lauren raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You almost passed out in there.”
“Well, it must be even harder on you.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I can handle it.”
“Okay,” she said with a relieved smile. “I wish I could be of more help, Lauren, but obviously I didn’t know everything about Abby, since I never knew she had sex.” Her smile dimmed. “I guess you never know anyone as well as you think you do.”
“I don’t have to do this today,” Kara told Jason as he escorted her up the steps to the Redwood Medical Clinic. Her natural childbirth class was due to start in five minutes but Colin was supposed to be her coach, and the idea of anyone else helping her through the labor was unthinkable.
“You have to do it. You’re going to have a baby in two weeks,” Jason reminded her.
“But if it’s natural, why do I need to take a class for it? Shouldn’t it come naturally?”
He smiled. “I don’t know. This is not my area.”
“Then why are you dragging me here?”
“Because your mother is sick, and you need a coach.”
She frowned. She hadn’t wanted to do the class with her mother, either, but she’d been railroaded into it. When her mom had called to say she wasn’t feeling well, Kara thought she’d been given a reprieve. Unfortunately, Jason had overheard the conversation and insisted that she go to the class.
He opened the door for her and she reluctantly stepped inside. As they headed toward the elevator, she felt guilty about her mixed feelings. She wasn’t looking forward to the class or to the birth of her daughter. She’d wanted this baby forever, but not like this, not without her husband.
When they arrived the room was crowded with at least six pregnant women and their husbands. The women all looked happy and glowing, the men doting and supportive. Kara felt sick to her stomach.
“Come on.” Jason took her hand and pulled her through the doorway.
She saw one of the men rub his wife’s pregnant belly. Then he leaned over and kissed her on the lips, his hand still resting on their baby. “I can’t do this,” she muttered. “It’s too hard.”
“Kara, I’ll help you.”
She knew he wanted to. She could see the worry in his eyes, the earnest determination. “It’s not supposed to be like this, Jason.”
“But it is,” he said solemnly. “Your baby is going to come and you need to be as ready as you can be.”
“I’ll do the next class. It’s quilt night at the shop. I’m supposed to help my grandmother set up. They have a guest speaker.”
“The speaker doesn’t start until eight o’clock. You’ll have plenty of time to get there.”
Kara frowned. “How do you know when quilting night starts? Did you talk to my mother? I bet that’s why you were at my house when she called—she gave you the heads-up.”
“Someone has to give you a kick in the ass. I know you think that Colin will wake up and be at your side when labor comes, and I hope to hell that happens. But if it doesn’t, you need to be prepared.”
The instructor interrupted them with a warm welcoming smile.
“Hello, I’m Deborah Cummings,” she said. “I’m a registered midwife, and I’ll be running the class today. You are . . .”
“Kara Lynch,” she replied grumpily. “And this is Jason Marlow. He’s just my coach. My husband can’t be here today.”
“All right,” Deborah said easily. “Come on in and get comfortable. We’ll begin in a few moments.”
Kara knew two of the other women, and she gave them a brief smile, then sat on the floor mat. Jason squatted down next to her as the teacher conferred with one of the other women.
“I thought you usually worked Mondays nights,” Kara said to distract herself from the other happy couples.
“I’ve got the graveyard shift tonight.”
“And this is how you wanted to spend your time off?”
“It wouldn’t have been my first choice.”
She smiled at his uncomfortable expression. He’d been gung-ho to get her here, but now, surrounded by pregnant bellies, he seemed a little rattled. “Wait until you have to watch the movie. I hear the birthing experience is quite something to see.”
“Great. Just great.”
“You wanted to come,” she pointed out.
“Anything for you, Kara.”
She knew he was serious, and she was touched by his friendship. She also felt a little ashamed. “Sorry I’m being such a brat. You’ve been incredible, Jason. This is above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Nothing is too much for you—and for Colin.”
“I feel guilty taking up so much of your time. What happened to that girl you were seeing a few months ago?”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What? There are so many women in your life, you can’t keep track?”
“They come, they go,” he said easily.
That was true. Jason rarely introduced her to the same woman twice. She wished he would find someone he really cared about and settle down, but she didn’t know if that would happen. Jason didn’t let people get close to him, aside from her and Colin. They’d been the three musketeers for as long as she could remember.
Sometimes she thought Jason used them as an excuse not to go out and make his own family. He and Colin had bonded when they were little kids. Both coming from broken homes, they had found brotherhood with each other. Jason probably felt almost as lost without Colin as she did. Maybe that’s why he was spending so much time with her.
“You should find a woman who wants to stay,” she said. “You’re a good guy. Anyone would feel lucky to have you.”
“I doubt that. Especially not these days.”
Hearing the anger in his voice, she gave him a thoughtful look. “What does that mean?”
“That Hollywood scriptwriter came to the station the other day. He wanted to know if I dated Abby back in high school, making it sound like I was up to something with her. I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up the villain in this movie by some wild stretch of his imagination.”
“That’s crazy. Why would he even suggest that you and Abby had a relationship?”
“Lisa Delaney is spreading shit about me.”
Now Kara was extremely curious. She hadn’t heard Lisa and Lauren’s conversation at the shower, but they’d obviously been discussing the murder. “What has Lisa been saying?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Did you ever date Abby?” she asked, sensing there was something he wasn’t telling her.
“The class is starting.”
And that wasn’t an answer. “Jason, if you were involved with Abby, how come you never said anything?”
“It wasn’t a big deal. We hung out at a few parties, but that was it.”
He wasn’t looking her straight in the eye, which surprised her. “Why are you so pissed off?”
&nb
sp; “I’m fine.”
“You’re not acting fine.”
“Just breathe, Kara. That’s all you have to worry about right now.”
She wished that were true. But breathing was the least of her worries, and probably his, too.
FOURTEEN
Lauren filled two large plastic bags with Abby’s clothes and shoes, which she’d donate to charity tomorrow. Now nothing but wire hangers remained on the old wooden rod in the closet. She tucked a strand of sweaty hair behind her ear as she stared at the emptiness.
It hadn’t been easy to go through Abby’s clothes. She kept seeing her sister in her favorite T-shirt or worn jeans or the big bunny slippers she’d gotten one Christmas. One of her own sweaters was mixed in with Abby’s clothes, and she remembered that Abby had taken it without asking. But that was what sisters did: they shared things. Just not everything.
As she’d gone through Abby’s clothes, she’d searched every pocket for something that might give her a clue to Abby’s life, but she’d found nothing. She still didn’t know who Abby had liked, or who she’d had sex with.
They’d always promised to tell each other when they had sex for the first time, but, to be fair, she hadn’t been open about her own experience, either. Maybe she would have talked to Abby eventually, but it had been too new at the time. And she hardly saw Abby in the weeks preceding her death. They’d been on different tracks, going in different directions. If she’d paid more attention, maybe she could have prevented Abby from going to the Ramsay house that night. Maybe her sister would still be alive.
With a sigh, she wrapped the tie around the plastic bag and shoved it against the wall. She reached for the light switch, then paused. On impulse she ran her hands over the floorboards, wondering if any were loose, if any offered a hiding place, but nothing budged. The walls were stucco, and the shelf that ran along the top was empty. There was certainly no diary in the closet.
She turned off the light. As she left the room, she thought how quiet the house was. Growing up, there had always been so many people around: her parents, her brother and sister, neighbors, friends. Now it was a ghost house. Perhaps that’s why her father spent so much time away from home. He couldn’t bear to leave, yet he couldn’t stand to stay.
As she walked into the kitchen, she heard a crash followed by the sudden barking of the dog next door. Looking out the kitchen window, she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary in the shadowed yard. A brisk breeze blew through the trees, rustling the flower bushes along the fence. Something must have fallen in the yard next door.
She had just moved away from the window when the doorbell rang and she started in surprise. Why was she so jumpy? Probably because she’d spent half the night thinking about the murder and wondering whether that person was still in Angel’s Bay.
When she looked through the peephole on the front door, her tension eased at the sight of Charlotte on the porch. She opened the door with relief.
“I’m kidnapping you,” Charlotte declared. “Get your purse and your coat.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I’m not taking no for an answer. I know your father’s at the bar, and Mort assured me that he will see that your dad gets home safely. And I don’t see Shane hovering in the background, so I’m guessing you’re alone.”
“I’m not dressed to go out,” Lauren protested. “I’ve been cleaning.”
“Jeans work fine for this outing.” Charlotte tapped her watch. “I’m waiting.”
“You are so bossy.”
Charlotte grinned. “I had to learn something from my mother.”
Lauren grabbed her coat and purse and stepped onto the porch, pulling the door shut. She was grateful for the interruption; the eerie quiet of the house was playing on her nerves.
“Why can’t you tell me where we’re going?” she asked as they walked down the street.
“Because you’d say no. But you’ll have fun, I promise.” Charlotte gave Lauren a happy smile. “This feels like old times, you and me together. I’m glad you decided to stick around for a few days. How are things going with your father?”
“It’s up and down. Some moments he’s fine, and then he’s completely out of it.”
“You should talk to your father’s doctor. Does he still see Harry Meyers?”
“Yes. I called Dr. Meyers, but he told me that unless my father gave permission, he couldn’t discuss his medical condition with me.”
“Won’t your father allow you to talk to his doctor?”
“Not at the moment. He’s afraid that if I learn how serious it is, I’ll push to get power of attorney and force him to leave. He wants to live here until he dies. I don’t know what to do.”
“Alzheimer’s can be more difficult for the family than for the person going through it. At some point, your father won’t know his condition or his surroundings, but you will. That will be hard for you.”
“I know. I can’t see a winning scenario anywhere. If I take him away, I’ll know that somewhere inside his head he hates me for forcing him from the only home he’s ever known. But what’s the alternative? And don’t say I could move back here,” she added quickly. “Although I guess you could say that, since you did it for your mother. Maybe I’m being selfish, putting my life before his.”
“My situation is completely different, and it’s not necessarily permanent. Besides that, I don’t have the same feelings about this town as you do. I didn’t go through the nightmare of losing my sister, seeing my boyfriend accused of murder, watching my family split apart. It’s harder for you to be here than it is for me. I would never judge your decision, Lauren.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
They walked the next few blocks in easy quiet. As the marina came into view, Charlotte said, “So, how is Shane?”
“We’re not talking about him.”
Charlotte laughed. “Maybe not yet. The night is young.”
Lauren let out a groan as they turned the corner and it became apparent where they were heading. “Not the quilt shop again. Didn’t I see enough people yesterday at the shower?”
“It’s quilting night. You used to love it, remember? But don’t worry, it’s almost over. They’re having a speaker, a woman from Los Angeles who’s an expert at appliqué.”
“I can’t believe you, of all people, are taking me to quilting night. You always said how many quilts does one person need?” Lauren teased her.
“Well, I’m glad I took the classes. The sewing techniques came in handy when I got to medical school. Now I get to stitch people up.” She laughed at Lauren’s expression. “It’s fun.”
“It sounds disgusting,” she said with a shudder. “How do you stick a needle in someone’s skin?”
“Believe me, I do more disgusting things than that,” Charlotte said with a laugh. “But it’s the best job I’ve ever had. I love being a doctor.”
“You always liked taking care of people and animals, anyone in pain. You get that from your mother, too.”
“Oh, please, do not say that.”
Lauren smiled. “Is your mom going to be here?”
“No, she has a cold, so she’s staying home tonight.”
“What about that pregnant girl you have living with you?” Lauren asked. “Mrs. Jenkins stopped by my house earlier to drop off a casserole, and she couldn’t wait to fill me in on Annie and the mystery of her baby’s father. I heard that the mayor is now the front runner.”
“Who knows?” Charlotte said.
There was an odd note in Charlotte’s voice, and Lauren stopped abruptly. “You know something. Is it the mayor?”
“I have no idea,” Charlotte said. “Annie won’t tell me. I don’t know why she’s protecting the father—if she’s scared, or if she believes it will ruin his life. I think he should be involved or at least informed, but I can’t force it.”
Lauren had a feeling Charlotte knew a lot more than she was saying. But while she’d always been happy to gossip ab
out little things, she could be trusted with the big secrets.
“I wish everyone would stop talking about her,” Charlotte continued. “She’s just a mixed-up teenager who had a terrible childhood. Her father is a mentally disabled war veteran who’s fighting his own private war up in the mountains, and she has no other family support. Someone needed to step in and help, so I did.”
That was Charlotte, Lauren thought—always willing to step in. Even now she was dragging Lauren out of the house, intent on making sure she felt a part of the town again.
A minute later they entered the quilt shop. A group of younger girls was sewing in the first-floor classroom, but the rest of the action was on the second floor. The room had been set up like a classroom tonight, with tables and sewing machines and a demonstration going on at the front of the room. They paused in the back to listen.
Nina Stamish, a middle-aged brunette dressed in a bright green dress with a colorfully embroidered vest, was discussing the latest technique in embroidery stitching using a computer software program.
“As you can see on the screen,” Nina said, motioning toward the screen behind her, “this program can help you design your stitching before you get near the fabric. The appliqué pieces are displayed and then the embroidery design is placed within the shape. The computer makes it easy for you to mirror the images throughout the piece. Once you’re satisfied, you save it on your USB stick or hook up your computer directly to your sewing machine. The software will then tell your sewing machine what to stitch.”
“Wow, things have changed a lot since we used to handstitch,” Lauren muttered to Charlotte. The quilt that Nina was creating was a piece of art.
As Nina finished her presentation, Fiona Murray, the eighty-five-year-old owner of the quilt shop, and Shane’s grandmother, stepped forward. Fiona still had the fiery red hair of her youth and was the grand dame of quilting in Angel’s Bay.
“Nina will stay and answer questions,” she said. “Those of you who are going to work on the Angel’s Bay quilt can gather around the table in the back. Otherwise, we’ll see the rest of you next week.”
On Shadow Beach Page 16