by Dawn Brown
“None of your business.”
“He murdered Michelle,” Paige said, throwing her arms in the air and no longer bothering to keep her voice quiet.
“He didn’t, but we’re close to figuring out who did.” She told Paige everything. The card, the flowers, the break-in and Lara. “I think whoever killed Michelle is feeling threatened.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Paige demanded. “Don’t you find it strange that from the first moment you talk to Dean you start receiving weird little gifts? I mean how is an unsigned card or a bundle of roses threatening? You said yourself that at first you thought they were condolences.”
“I know he had nothing to do with what happened to Michelle.”
“I’m sure the girlfriends of most serial killers say the same thing. Oh wait, no they don’t, because they’re dead!”
“I can’t talk to you about this. You’re being ridiculous.” Haley turned to walk away.
“Think about this.” Paige grabbed her arm, almost desperately. “Your house gets broken into, and then he generously offers to spend the night. He’s playing you, and you’re letting him.”
“He was with me all day yesterday. There’s no way he could have broken into my house.”
“Haley, I remember the way you used to moon over him.”
“I’ve never mooned a day in my life.”
“Oh, you mooned. When Michelle was dating him, she thought it was funny. We all did.”
Heat stole into Haley’s cheeks. God, Paige could be a bitch. Had she actually thought for one second that they could have some kind of relationship?
“I think you should leave.”
“If I knew and Michelle knew, wouldn’t it stand to reason that Dean knew too? You need to ask yourself what he’s hoping to get out of you. The way I see it, the best case, he’s trying to find out what the police know. Worst case, he’s searching for his next victim.”
“I can’t talk to you now.” A slow simmering rage boiled just below the skin. “You need to leave.” She walked away, leaving Paige standing alone.
“You have the worst taste in men,” Paige called then slammed out the front door.
Haley still seethed when she walked into the kitchen. Dean leaned against the counter and drank from the mug, his expression inscrutable, but the tic in his jaw gave away that he’d heard most of what Paige said.
She wanted to pick up where they’d left off. To feel his mouth on hers again, his arms wrapped around her. And to forget.
“Maybe it’s best if we stop all this,” he said, his voice low.
“No,” she told him, and meant it. “I’ve never been so close to finding out what happened to Michelle, and I’m not stopping now.”
“I heard everything.”
Great. “Then you know I think we’re onto something.”
“I know that since I came into your life again someone’s been watching you. And now I’m alienating you from your family.”
She snorted. “My family spends more time alienated from one another than anything else. Until Michelle was found, I hadn’t spoken to Paige in nearly four years.”
“Why is that?”
“It doesn’t matter. The point is, I’m not giving up on this. Whoever killed Michelle took more from me than a sister, and I need to know why. I’ll do this with or with out you.”
He sighed. “Fine. What did you have in mind?”
“I have to go to work today, but while I’m there I’ll try and find out who Sandra is. Maybe you could talk to Lara, find out who persuaded her to keep quiet.”
“I don’t know how far either of us will get.”
“We have to try. They’re the only leads we have.”
He nodded, lifted his coffee to his mouth and drained the mug. When he lowered the cup, a smirk twisted his mouth. “So, you used to moon over me?”
She couldn’t have stopped the blush rushing to her cheeks if her life depended on it. “I suppose it was too much to hope that you hadn’t heard that.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I stand by the claim that I have never mooned over anyone.”
“That’s too bad. I kind of like the idea.” He bent his head until his lips were only inches from hers.
“You would,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry. “What with your giant ego.”
His lips brushed hers softly, playfully teasing. Her mouth tingled, the sensation spreading throughout her body as he deepened the kiss.
She stepped back. “I need to clean the mess upstairs and get to work.”
“I’ll help you.”
She nodded and waited as he shrugged on his shirt from last night, her gaze on the rippling muscles in his back.
Not mooning. Admiring. Big difference.
The speed at which gossip traveled never ceased to amaze Haley. Yesterday her store had less than a dozen customers all day, today she had that many browsing at any given time.
She knew she was being gawked at. She could feel their gazes on her as she rang in orders and accepted pieces for refurbishing. At times, she caught people whispering out the sides of their mouths or behind their hands, all the while looking at her with a mix of pity and contempt.
As the day progressed, her mild irritation turned to full anger. What business was her life to anyone else anyway? Sometimes she hated this town. What she wouldn’t give to live a life outside the fishbowl. Where her every move, decision or family tragedy wasn’t fodder for town gossip.
By the time Billy arrived to start his shift, she was practically crawling out of her skin. She couldn’t wait to retreat to the workroom, away from the scrutiny and speculation. She still hadn’t had the chance to look into who Sandra was. The sudden surge in business hadn’t left her with the spare time she’d hoped for.
“Busy today,” Billy said, coming behind the counter to stand beside her.
“I’m going to get some work done in the back,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Will you be all right out here on your own?”
“I think so.”
“If you get swamped, let me know and I’ll send Al out to help you.”
“I’ll be better off on my own.”
He probably would be. She nodded then slipped into the back room.
Al, his face hidden behind a respirator, scraped the waxy finish off a large, square dining table. The chemical stink of wood stripper stung her nostrils and burned her eyes. Even with the steel door open to the alley, the frigid air did little to alleviate the heavy fumes.
Haley lifted a respirator from the workbench and fit the molded plastic over her nose and mouth.
“Are these ready?” she asked, pointing to the row of six chairs, seats removed, lined up against the far wall.
“Should be.”
She nodded and took a stack of newspaper from the pile next to bench. As she spread the paper on the floor, a familiar headline from last week’s paper caught her eye. “BODY FOUND.” Instinctively, Haley started to turn the sheet over so the article would be face down as she worked and she’d see only benign advertisements for Christmas savings, but she stopped. The name Sandra stood out from the article as bold to her as the headline itself.
“Brian and Sandra Gallagher, present at the time the remains were discovered, also declined comment.”
That had to be the same Sandra Rhonda had mentioned. Haley fought the urge to do a little happy dance.
With her foul mood forgotten, she rushed back out into the store, yanking off the respirator as she went. She set it on the counter and bent to dig her planner from her purse. She flipped through the pages until she came to where she’d scribbled Dean’s cell phone number that morning.
“Everything okay?” Haley asked Billy, as she dialed. Only three customers wandered through the cluttered aisles. The fewest she’d had all day.
“Fine. Mostly just browsers left.”
“Hello.” At the sound of Dean’s voice, Haley turned away from Billy.
“Hi, it’s me.”
&
nbsp; “Hi me, how’s your day?” His deep, almost melodic voice had her stomach tightening. How could five little words have that kind of effect on her? Stop being stupid, you’re not fifteen, anymore.
She snickered. “It’s been interesting.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Well, actually, business has picked up. I wondered if you might be available for some appearances this time next year.”
“Cute.”
“Anyway, that doesn’t matter, I found Sandra.”
“Where?”
“In an article from last week’s Gazette. Her last name’s Gallagher. She and her husband were there when Michelle’s body was found. I’m not sure how we’ll figure out where they live. Maybe I could call whoever wrote the article.”
“They might not tell you anything to protect her privacy. Try the phone book.”
“Have you had any luck with Lara?”
“A woman keeps answering, I’m assuming she’s Lara’s housekeeper, and telling me she’s not home. The woman might be telling the truth. I’ve called three times, pretending to be someone else each time, and got the same answer. This last time, I told her I was from the credit card company, and I needed to speak to Lara regarding some strange activity on her account. I left my cell phone number. Who knows, she might actually call me back.”
“I’ll see if I can track down the Gallaghers.”
“Good. Why don’t I pick you up at the store after you’re done?”
“No need. It makes more sense to meet you at my place.”
He was quiet for a minute. “Make Al walk you to your car.”
“I’m sure he’d be a big help if someone was in the alley waiting for me.”
“Humor me?”
“Fine. I’ll make him walk me to the car,” she lied.
“Good. Call me when you know more.”
“I will.”
After a quick good-bye she hung up and turned around. Nate stood on the opposite side of the counter, his dark eyes boring into her. God help her, not another lecture.
“Let me guess, you’d like to speak to me.” She tried to keep her voice light and even smiled faintly.
He didn’t return her smile, only glared. “Was that him?”
A woman, running her fingers over the smooth surface of a dark wood secretary, glanced over. Her eyes met Haley’s for just a moment then she looked away.
“I don’t have a lot of time for lectures right now. Could we do this later?”
“Your father would be rolling in his grave if he knew what you were doing.”
“I guess not,” she said more to herself. To Billy she said, “I’ll be in the back.”
She didn’t say a word to Nate as she yanked open the door, but she knew he followed. His quick, angry footfalls on the cement floor covered the sound of Al’s scraper on the wood. The air still stunk heavily of chemicals and she’d left her respirator out in the store so she continued out the open back door into the alley.
Nate, perhaps believing she was trying to escape him, grabbed her arm as soon as they were outside. His long fingers sank painfully into her flesh.
“That hurts,” she snapped, wrenching her arm away.
“So is he worth it?” Nate demanded, his face turning red and blotchy.
“Worth what?”
“What you’re doing to your family.”
“What am I doing to my family?”
“Your brother and Erin are worried sick that something will happen to you.”
“I’m sure they are. Who would look after Mother?”
“Why don’t we discuss your mother? What do you think she’ll do when she discovers her youngest daughter is sleeping with the man who murdered her oldest?”
Haley’s insides tightened instinctively at the thought. God help her if some do good neighbor like Mrs. Yolken decided to fill her mother in. Forget it, Yolken could never get past Paige. There were times having a pit bull for a sister helped.
“Dean didn’t murder anyone.”
“He must be a phenomenal lay to be able to manipulate women the way he does.”
The fury simmering just below the surface exploded in her head. “Shut up, Nate. I’m not answerable to you. I don’t need to listen to any of this. Go home.”
“I’m not finished with you.”
“Too bad. I’m finished with you.”
Without a backward glance, she walked into the shop as composed as possible, but her hands shook as she pulled the door closed behind her.
“Hey, I need that open,” Al said, looking up from the table.
“Just wait a few minutes and then you can open the door again.”
She went back out to the store. The eavesdropping lady had gone and so had the secretary.
“Did she buy it?” Haley asked, collecting her respirator from the counter.
Billy nodded, staring at her warily. Did she look as furious as she felt?
“That’s good.”
She slid the respirator into place and went back to the shop. Al had opened the door again, but there was no sign of Nate. Nausea swirled in her belly. How could he have talked to her like that? And how could she have told him to shut up? She got to work on the chairs and tried to push the incident out of her mind.
Chapter Fifteen
At half past six, Haley set the alarm and slipped out the back door. She clutched the scrap of paper with Sandra Gallagher’s address scribbled on it while trying to formulate the best way to approach this woman.
She didn’t have a clue. She could try showing up at Sandra’s front door. Though, that plan hadn’t worked very well with Rhonda.
As she crossed the narrow strip of pavement from the door to her car, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Nothing moved in the alley. The few cars parked behind the other stores were still and lifeless. A row of trees formed a natural barrier between the alley and the houses backing onto it. Their bare branches made a dry clicking sound in the wind that sent a shiver down her spine.
This was Dean’s fault. In all the time she’d worked there, she’d never once been spooked going to her car after dark. But he’d made such a big deal about having someone walk her out.
After fishing her keys from her purse, they slipped from her trembling fingers, landing on the pavement with a jingle. The sound was ominous in the quiet.
She bent and scooped them up in one fluid motion. As she straightened, something moved in her peripheral vision. She turned sharply and froze.
Nothing. She waited, keeping her body absolutely still, her eyes glued to the rusted Dumpster and her ears strained for any sound. The cold metal of the keys dug into her palm.
After a few minutes, she released her breath then quickly unlocked the door, slamming it shut once behind the wheel. She slapped down the locks on both sides of the car.
Ridiculous. Still, panic fluttered through her as she struggled to start the car.
“Please, please, please,” she chanted and turned the key a fifth time. The engine choked and coughed then caught at last.
She threw the car into gear and started forward, not bothering to give the motor a chance to warm up. If the pile-of-junk stalled on the way home she didn’t care, so long as she was away from the alley.
“None of that would have happened if you just let Al walk you to your car,” Dean said.
Haley leaned back against the passenger seat with a sigh. Why had she mentioned the incident at all? “None of that would have happened if you hadn’t made such a big deal about it and freaked me out.”
He glanced at her briefly, before turning his attention back to the road. The streetlights reflected off his glasses and kept her from seeing his eyes. “Maybe you should be freaked out. If you’re right, this is Michelle’s killer we’re dealing with, and he feels threatened.”
“I have no problem being cautious, but I don’t plan on jumping at shadows.” Well, not again anyway. “Besides, I don’t see anyone walking you to your car.”
She waited,
a smug grin in place. How would he respond and not sound like some macho male chauvinist? His lips pressed together in a thin straight line. Then he smiled. “No one has broken into my home or left me creepy gifts.”
“You’re good,” she admitted. “With all that diplomacy you should become a politician.”
He snorted. “That’ll be the day. I’m serious, though, if this is Michelle’s killer you need to be careful.”
“You do too. You’re as much a threat as I am. And don’t think that just because you’re a man you’re somehow exempt from danger. The killer could club you over the head from behind. You never know.”
“Fine. Point taken. I’ll be careful too.”
“I might be better convinced if you didn’t sound like you were humoring me.”
“I’ve been trying to think of suspects,” Dean said, clearly opting for a change of subject. “Given all that we know.”
“And what do we know?”
“The store’s delivery van was seen on the side of the highway at about eleven-thirty the night Michelle disappeared. Days later I found a pair of your father’s coveralls with blood on them in the crawl space.”
“You could have been wrong. That was a long time ago, maybe it was stain.”
“It was definitely not stain.”
A sudden, desperate panic bubbled inside her. They were supposed to be on the same side. “We know my father wasn’t involved. He’s dead and obviously couldn’t have been the one to break into my house.”
“What about his first wife? We can’t ignore that. Whoever did that to your room last night could be someone who’s as eager as you are to keep your father looking innocent.”
“Or, Michelle’s actual killer.”
“I’m not disagreeing. I just think we should keep an open mind and look at everything as a whole.”
“Fine.” He could look at whatever he wanted. As far as she was concerned, her father was innocent. “So who had access to the van, the store and my grandmother’s house?”
“Your family, Nate and his family. Al and I had access to everything except your grandmother’s house.”
“Her place was hardly Fort Knox. Anyone who wanted in could have gotten in with a minimal amount of effort. Paige and I did two nights ago.”