“Don’t you worry, Lizzie,” Jake said. “We’re going to find out. You can count on that.”
“I still think we should cancel the wedding, Dylan,” Lizzie said, tears pooling in her eyes. “Mrs. Chipwell’s heart could have given out!”
“Dear girl, I am not frail!” Mrs. Chipwell scolded.
“Lizzie, remember what we talked about,” Dylan said, taking both her hands and bringing them to his lips. “We’re not going to let some psycho ruin our plans. We love each other and we’re getting married and that’s all that matters.”
“But, Dylan—” Lizzie began.
Dylan shot up. “Do you hear that, Psycho?” he shouted, glancing wildly at the guests who crowded into the foyer. “If you’re here, if you’re one of us, one of our friends, your evil isn’t working. And trust me, when I find out who you are, watch out!”
Mrs. Dunhill, who’d been standing quietly by the entrance to the ballroom, pushed through the crowd and stood in front of her son. “Dylan Dunhill!” she said, her usually calm voice raised. “Are you insinuating that one of my dear friends is the person behind the unfortunate incidents troubling Lizbeth and her friends?”
“It’s Lizzie, Mother,” Dylan said. “And no, I’m not insinuating. I’m flat out saying that it’s entirely possible—probable—that our culprit is in this room.”
As the guests gasped and murmured and muttered and began looking around, looking for the guilty party, Holly squeezed Lizzie’s hand.
“The party is over, everyone,” Dylan announced, his expression grim.
“Dylan, how dare you be so rude!” his mother scolded. “I am hosting this party.”
“Mother, I do believe you made the same announcement fifteen minutes ago,” Dylan said through gritted teeth. He kneeled beside Lizzie. “Honey, do you think you can stand? I want to get you out of here.”
“I think so,” she said, sitting up.
Jake leaned over to Dylan and whispered something in his ear. Dylan nodded and helped Lizzie to her feet.
“Holly,” Jake said, “Dylan’s going to take Lizzie home and stay with her until I bring you back to her house. I’d like us to do a little work here first.”
Holly nodded. She gently put an arm around Lizzie’s shoulder. “I’ll be back soon, Lizzie. Jake and I are going to find out who’s behind all this. I promise you that.”
Lizzie offered a tearful nod, and Dylan escorted her out.
Henrietta Dunhill, the elderly aunt of Victoria Dunhill, reached for one of the favors as she was slowly making her way out with the help of her cane.
“No, no, Mrs. Dunhill,” Jake said gently. “These favors have been tampered with.”
“What’s that you say?” Henrietta asked. “Lovely favors. Since the place has cleared out, I’ll take two,” she added with a wink. She grabbed the favors and opened one. “Just adorable.”
The bride and groom topper she held had no noose, no note. Jake glanced at Holly and they lunged for the marble table, opening the little lavender sacks as quickly as possible. Only two others contained nooses and notes.
“And only three of the guests are members of the bridal party,” Holly said slowly. “Lizzie, Gayle and me.”
“Well, whoever altered the favors clearly wasn’t concerned with who actually ended up with those three favors. Mrs. Chipwell isn’t a member of the bridal party.”
“Maybe he or she figured whoever got the tampered-with favors would scream bloody murder about it.”
“Meaning it wouldn’t matter if one of us got them, since the message would make its way to us,” Holly said.
Jake nodded. “And it did.”
Yes, it did, Holly thought, a weariness settling over her.
“All this unpleasantness has made me very tired,” Victoria Dunhill said, reaching for the banister of the stairs. “Walker,” she droned to her butler. “See me up the stairs, will you. And fetch Louis to accompany us.”
“Before you go, Mrs. Dunhill,” Jake said, “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
She offered him a smile. “Jacob, dear, it’s late. I’m tired. And under a great deal of stress. Why don’t you come see me in the morning.”
“I will,” he said. “You don’t mind if I have a look around, do you, Mrs. Dunhill?”
She stopped on the stairwell, then turned just a bit so that she was facing nothing in particular. “Of course, dear. Go right ahead.”
Jake waited until she had ascended the stairs, then turned to Holly. “A guest at this party tampered with those favors. And we’re going to find out who if we have to spend the night here.”
Holly glanced up at him. Spending the night with Jake Boone didn’t sound so bad.
As an antique grandfather clock ticked-tocked on the wall across from where he sat, Jake breathed very slowly, very calmly—which was difficult as Holly was leaning against him, her head on his shoulder.
She was fast asleep.
God, she felt good.
He didn’t dare move a muscle, lest she awaken and startle to find herself in such an intimate position.
Intimate. It was funny to think of it that way. A decade ago, Holly had often fallen asleep sitting next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. They’d be on one of their living room sofas watching a video, or down by the lake, tossing pebbles into the water, and Holly would fall asleep. Back then, she’d awaken as comfortably as she’d fallen asleep, her head on Jake Boone’s shoulder as familiar and normal as talking to him.
Only he’d be stock-still, listening to her breathe, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath, smelling her shampoo, watching every slight and tiny movement, her lips, a hand, a tiny coo.
And he’d want to stay like that forever. Then, in those moments, she was his.
Now didn’t feel so different. She lived far away from him. They weren’t even friends. But she was Holly Morrow, and she was sleeping against him.
He very gently caressed her hand, then stared at the brass hands of the clock.
It was midnight, three hours since the party ended. Three hours since they’d combed through the Dunhill mansion and the grounds, looking for something, anything to shed light on who had brought the nooses for the party favors. A crumpled receipt thrown away foolishly in a trash can. A wrapper or a bag from the store where the items had come from. Something dropped or missed. Or something right out in the open.
People were careless when they committed crimes. Nerves got the best of them, and they slipped up, made mistakes.
But Jake and Holly had found nothing.
After two hours, they’d gone to Jake’s office to talk over the case, where things stood, what they did know, what seemed to be, what could be. The best they could come up with was that their culprit was very careful and right under their noses.
“There’s Pru and Arianna, individually or together. There’s young Jimmy. There’s Bobby Jones. There’s Victoria Dunhill. They all have motives.”
“And unfortunately, just about anyone who’s seen an old movie had access to Lizzie’s home,” Jake pointed out, “thanks to the keys she left under the doormat, under a flowerpot, above the doorjamb. Perhaps our psycho let him or herself in, saw the party favors and tampered with a few.”
“And a lot of people in town have their own key to her house—her mother, her friends, her handyman, Dylan. Lizzie’s unusually trusting with everyone.”
“Even I have a key,” Jake conceded. He shook his head. “Before I became a cop, I thought that only happened in the movies. I had no idea people left keys right in front of their doors for anyone to use. It’s practically a cliché to hide a key under the mat, or above the door or under a plant.”
Holly nodded. “Like I said, Lizzie’s unusually trusting. She’s never had much reason to trust people, given how she’s been treated since puberty, but she always has trusted.” She glanced down at her feet. “It’s one of the biggest differences between us.”
“Do you want to be more trusting?” Ja
ke asked.
She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Part of me thinks it’s safer not to trust, safer to keep your guard up—as long as you’re open, I guess. And the other part thinks that as long as your guard is up, you can’t really be open.”
“I suppose there’s a middle ground,” Jake said. “Reasonably cautious.”
“I guess that could describe me,” she said. “Do you think I’m—” She stopped and pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. She didn’t finish her question.
I wouldn’t know, Jake finished silently for her. I used to know if reasonably cautious fit you, but I don’t know the woman you’ve become.
She took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “Jake, after the mound of dirt was left on her bed, she got rid of the keys around the property and had the locks changed. The only people who have new keys are Dylan, me, you, and her mother. So if Dylan has a key, it’s possible that Pru could have gotten her hands on it and made a copy.”
“It’s possible,” Jake said.
The words anything’s possible seemed to hang in the air between them, even though neither spoke them aloud.
It was interesting—back then, when they were as close as two people could be, it wasn’t possible for them to become a couple. Now, when they barely knew each other, it was very possible.
Perhaps that was how it worked. Couples hooked up all the time because of that very fact.
Now who’s cynical, he thought.
Holly stirred, jolting him out of his reverie. He watched her slowly open her eyes and glance around, then she bolted upright when she realized there was a body next to her. “Did I fall asleep?” she asked, suppressing a yawn.
“You took a twenty-minute catnap.”
“Was I leaning against you the whole time?” she asked nervously. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It was fine,” he said. “I’m used to it.”
“Putting women to sleep?” she asked with a smile. And then she laughed, and he laughed, too. Her humor was unexpected.
And it broke the ice.
“I can make that joke only because I know how untrue it is,” she said. “Boring is not an adjective that describes you, Jake Boone.”
“Glad to hear that,” he said and laughed again.
She smiled and the warmth in the room held and spun around them. “It’s nice to be with you again, Jake,” she said, looking at him shyly for a moment, then looking away. “You don’t realize how much you miss something ...” She shook her head. “I won’t even bother with that because it’s not true. I missed you fiercely right away.”
“I missed you, too,” he said quietly, so quietly he wondered if he thought it or said it aloud.
Tears came to her eyes, and he knew he’d said it aloud.
He stared down at the hardwood floor. “Perhaps if we’d been this direct with each other, our friendship wouldn’t have ended.”
Why had that come out of his mouth? He wasn’t supposed to say that. Now he’d brought up their past.
“Meaning?” she asked.
“Meaning I didn’t know what low regard you held me in.”
She gasped. “Low regard? Jake, are you kidding? I thought you walked on the moon!”
“I’m the last man on earth you’d marry, Holly. I heard you say it yourself.”
Her face crumpled. She stared at the ground, then slowly back up at him. “Jake, I’ve regretted saying that from the moment it left my lips.”
“But you said it. And you said it because you meant it.”
She buried her face in her hands for a moment. “At the time, to be with you would have meant staying in Troutville. That was your dream. Mine was to leave. Back then, it was so black and white. Stay or go.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You marry a person because you’re in love, because you belong together. I’m not so sure it matters where you are.”
“It is if your spirit dies in that place,” she whispered.
He looked at her.
“The divorce rate is awfully high, Jake. Marriage starts out about love. And then life intrudes on that private happiness. Troutville would have intruded on us. Of that, I have no doubt.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, not sure how he felt about what she was saying. Much of what she said was realistic.
“Let’s say I asked you to leave Troutville and follow me where I was going,” Holly said. “Would you have?”
Would I have left Troutville if you asked? I would have bought a bus ticket to anywhere to be with you. It didn’t matter to him that she wouldn’t have stayed in Troutville for him. He knew how much she hated the place. He never would have asked such a thing of her. But he’d never gotten the chance to ask to come with her. And just when he’d worked up the courage to do just that, he’d discovered her real feelings for him.
She hadn’t said: Troutville is the last place I’d spend my life. She’d said: Jake is the last man I’d ever marry.
The whole thing was complicated. Jake’s dream had been to stay in Troutville, join the police force the way his father and grandfather had. Overcome the obstacles. Live where he wanted to live, which was right here in Troutville, despite how the Up Hillers treated him. He’d had big ideas to build up Down Hill, contribute to making the area a nicer place to live, safer for children and the elderly. And he’d done so.
But Holly hated Troutville. He never would have asked her to stay.
He shook his head. What was the difference?
She glanced into his eyes. His expression was unreadable. “I ... I felt terrible about what happened. . . how things ended.” She looked down at her feet. “Oh, Jake, I don’t know what to say. There’s so much I want to tell—”
His cell phone interrupted her. He pulled it out of his pocket with a mouthed excuse me, then glanced at the incoming telephone number.
Dylan.
“Dylan? What’s up?”
“Jake, Lizzie and I just got to her house—we took a long, soothing drive and then walked the Troutville Bridge, her favorite spot—and we found another note in her house. This time written on Lizzie’s bedroom wall, over her bed. Part of it is in Magic Marker, and part is in what looks like blood.”
“Blood?” he repeated.
Holly whirled around. “What’s happened?” she asked, her voice panicked. “Did something happen to Lizzie?”
“Another note,” he whispered. “Dylan,” he said into the phone, “we’ll be right there. Hang on, okay?”
“Lizzie locked herself in the bathroom and won’t come out,” Dylan said. “She’s crying, terrified—I can’t get her to open the door or calm down. Oh, God, Jake, I’m really worried. I’ve been able to calm her down before, but now I can’t.”
“What did the note say?” Jake asked.
“You’ll see,” Dylan said. “I’d rather not even repeat it.”
During the four-minute drive to Lizzie’s house, Holly was barely able to think. Please let Lizzie be all right, she prayed. She’s been through enough!
Before Jake had fully parked in Lizzie’s driveway, Holly was out of the car, racing up to the porch to ring the bell.
“Thank God you’re here,” Dylan said, gesturing for Holly and Jake to come in. “Holly, you’re probably the only person who can help calm her down.”
“Is she upstairs in her room?” Holly asked.
“In the master bathroom,” Dylan said. “She locked the door.”
Holly ran for the stairs, but Dylan gently took her arm.
“Wait, Holly,” Dylan said. “I think Jake should go with you.”
She looked at Dylan, then at Jake, and then she nodded, understanding setting in. The note had to be that bad.
Slowly, Holly pushed open Lizzie’s bedroom door. The bed faced the door, so the large Magic-Markered letters could be seen from the doorway.
Lay Me Lizzie Is Pregnant!
It was underlined in blood.
Holly felt her knees wobble. She grabbed onto th
e doorway for support.
“I’ve got you,” she heard Jake say from behind her, and she could vaguely feel his arm around her shoulder.
“Lizzie, honey?” Dylan was saying. “Holly’s here, sweetie.”
Lizzie’s name shot a jolt of adrenaline through Holly’s entire being. “Lizzie!” She ran to the bathroom door. Dylan was leaning against it, a hand flat on the door, as if he could communicate his feelings through the door.
He loves her, she thought with absolute conviction.
“Should I try?” Holly asked.
He nodded, tears in his eyes. She watched him walk over to her bed and sit down, his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his face. He was crying.
Jake sat down next to him and slung an arm on his back. Dylan raised his head and took a deep breath, wiping at his eyes.
“Lizzie, honey, it’s Holly. Will you open up and let me in?”
No answer.
“Lizzie, I just want to hold you. We don’t have to talk. I just want to hold you and tell you everything’s going to be okay.”
She heard a sniffle. And then a few movements. And then the door lock sliding.
“It’s open,” Lizzie said softly.
Holly turned to offer a reassuring glance to Dylan, then slowly opened the door and slipped inside. She shut it behind her. Lizzie, who was sitting on the floor, jumped up and fell into Holly’s arms. They slid down against the wall until they were half sitting, half lying down.
Lizzie’s sobs shook her entire body. Holly held her against her, stroking her hair, whispering, “Let it out. It’s all right. Just let it out. Everything’s going to be all right.”
In a few minutes, Lizzie was quiet. They continued to sit that way for another five minutes.
“It’s true,” Lizzie whispered. “I am pregnant.”
Holly lifted Lizzie’s face with both her palms. “Congratulations, Lizzie.” She smiled gently. “Congratulations, mom-to-be.”
Lizzie offered a weak smile. “I’m going to be a mom, Holly. Just like I always dreamed.”
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