by Louise Lynn
The person smoking drew in another drag. “You say that like it’s easy.”
“I never said it was easy. It was a lot harder when I was your age, but—” he stopped talking, and Hazel realized her feet had crunched on the gravel underfoot.
“Have you guys seen Travis Turner?” she asked and stepped closer to them.
A light from the Manor’s exterior shone across their faces, and she recognized Robbie Smith and Travis.
Travis was the one with the cigarette.
“Oh crap,” he said, putting it out under his shoe. “I was just holding it for a friend.”
Hazel raised an eyebrow. “Hi Robbie. It’s been a while,” she said with a smile. “Your uncle is looking for you, Travis.”
Robbie nodded, though his expression was guarded. “If your uncle is looking for you, you should probably head back,” Robbie said and patted Travis on the back.
Travis gave Hazel a pleading smile and started walking away.
Hazel was about to ask what they had been talking about, when she heard a ruckus from the other side of the house—the side she’d left Jay Turner.
She exchanged a glance with Robbie, and they all headed toward it.
She heard voices shouting before she saw who was involved.
“You stay away from him, you hear me? I hear about you laying a finger on him and I will end you,” Jay yelled and held someone up against the outer wall of the Manor.
Hazel gasped.
The person he held was the same kid who’d shoved Travis inside. The Spring Fling King—whatever his name was.
“Hey, back off,” Robbie cried and ran up to Jay.
Jay shrugged him off, and Hazel shook her head.
“Boys. Really. The sheriff is inside. You want to spend the night in a cell, Jay?” she said and looked him dead in the eye. This after the show he put on just a few minutes earlier. Assaulting a teenager!
With a frustrated growl, Jay dropped the boy.
The Spring Fling King dusted off his lapels as if it’d been nothing. “Your stupid threat doesn’t scare me. I can do whatever I want.”
“Just do as he says. Leave Travis alone,” Robbie said and gave the kid a level stare.
Like a typical teenager, he rolled his eyes. “We need to talk, Travis. You and me. This isn’t over,” he said and stalked away mumbling about old people.
Hazel wondered if she was part of the old people, and decided that, yes, she probably was. Which didn’t make her feel any better about the whole night in general.
“Well, now that everyone has found each other,” she said and looked between Jay, Travis, and Robbie. “I’m going home. Good night.”
She didn’t wait around to see if anyone responded and walked away in a puff of emerald tulle.
Chapter 4
While mornings weren’t Hazel’s favorite thing, she’d stayed up too late the night before, so rising was harder than normal.
Especially with a fluffy black cat yowling in her face.
She removed Anthony Ray with a quick pet and got up for coffee.
Anthony Ray scarfed down his chicken breakfast as if he’d been starving then wound around her ankles, scolding her for being gone the night before.
“I can’t stay home every night of the week and tend to your neediness,” she said and scratched his chin as he purred in delight.
Though, that didn’t sound like a bad way to spend most evenings.
She was almost ready to leave for her studio, freshly caffeinated and dressed, when she heard the blare of sirens on the main road. Her house sat back near Lake Celeste down a long driveway, but she could still hear them in the distance.
Strange.
Maybe it was just a speeding ticket.
Then she heard another rush of sirens.
Well, they wouldn’t need two deputy vehicles for a speeding ticket, would they?
Still, it didn’t have anything to do with her, so she ignored the way her gut clenched and finished getting ready for work.
Anthony Ray stuck by her side, so she put him in his harness and leash and let him hitch a ride. “You’d better be good today. No scratching Michael.”
Anthony Ray yawned, walked in a circle, and sprawled on the passenger seat.
Typical.
To her surprise CATfeinated was busier than usual for a Saturday morning. Especially one after a dance. Even at that time of spring, the full power of the tourists that invaded Cedar Valley every year hadn’t materialized, so while there were more people on the streets than usual, it should’ve been less crowded.
Hazel left Anthony Ray in her studio and headed over for her second dose of caffeine and breakfast. Her eyes scanned the crowd for Sheriff Cross, who usually showed up around the same time, but she didn’t see him.
Maybe he was in one of those vehicles with the sirens.
Yeah. That was probably it.
Celia had managed to wrestle her wild curls into a ponytail and wore a bright yellow blouse with pink flowers that complemented her beautiful brown skin. Though she looked more harassed than usual.
“Long morning?” Hazel said and leaned against the counter when it was finally her turn.
Celia gave her a look that she could read all too easily. “You have no idea. It’s been crazy this morning. Have you heard?”
Hazel shook her head and accepted her latte and sesame bagel. “Heard what?”
“Apparently, one of the kids at the dance went missing last night. That’s all I know. Everyone’s going crazy about it,” Celia said and nodded to the corner.
Now that Hazel looked around, she noticed that most of the people in the café weren’t regulars. They weren’t people around Hazel’s age, either slightly older or slightly younger, who came in for their morning fix or to chat with friends before work.
Instead, it was filled with teenagers.
That’s why it was so crowded.
Teens.
Worse than tourists.
Hazel gave Celia a sympathetic smile. “Okay. Now I get it. Who disappeared?”
Celia shrugged. “Never heard of him. Brandon something. He probably came in here a few times, but I didn’t know his name.”
The name didn’t mean anything to Hazel either. She took her food and slunk away so Celia could attend her next customer. Someone going missing that close to the lake was usually a bad sign. Especially if he’d been drinking.
The porch, which was usually Hazel’s sanctuary even on busy mornings, was crowded with teens as well. Hazel frowned as she took the last seat.
It looked like she wasn’t going to get a peaceful morning after all.
Still, Michael hadn’t come to the studio yet, and if she was here she might as well stay and see if Sheriff Cross showed up. If there was a missing person, he’d have more information about it.
“I can’t believe it. Where could he go?” a girl cried from the corner.
Hazel slowly looked in that direction and recognized the girl from the night before. She’d been the Spring Fling Queen. Her mascara and eyeliner dripped down her cheeks, and Hazel wondered if it was the makeup from the night before or if she’d put on fresh makeup that morning just to cry it all off.
The girl’s friends comforted her, and Hazel forced herself to look away.
By the time she’d finished her bagel and latte, Sheriff Cross still hadn’t shown up, and she rose with a sigh and left the café. Well, she hoped they found the kid, safe and sound. Though, that knot in her gut grew.
She went back to her studio to get to work on the pictures from the night before. She’d only been at her desk for about an hour when there was a knock at the office door.
When she answered, she didn’t expect to see Deputy Simmons. “Can I help you?”
The deputy gave her a smile and scratched his head. “I think so. Sheriff Cross sent me. He said you might be able to assist us in this missing person search.”
Hazel raised an eyebrow, and Anthony Ray wound around her ankles. “Me? Wh
y?”
The deputy glanced at her, then down at the cat. “Oh, that’s the one, right? He found the body in the lake that time. And Tommy.”
Suddenly, Hazel understood what Sheriff Cross wanted. Not her expertise, but Anthony Ray’s expertise. Still, she couldn’t deny that he’d found two people. So, maybe the sheriff was right.
“Yes. Anthony Ray is a very smart cat. Where did the kid disappear from?”
Deputy Simmons gave her a look that said he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to share any information with her. He was at least ten years younger than Hazel, fresh faced and wide-eyed, a lot like Michael. “From the Rockwell Manor. He never got home last night. That’s what his parents are saying.”
Hazel gathered up Anthony Ray so she could get his harness and leash back on. “I thought someone had to be missing for twenty-four hours before the police got involved.”
“Technically he’s still a minor, so the law is different. The parents claim he’s been kidnapped.” Simmons sounded as if he didn’t believe it.
“Does he have a history of running away?”
“I don’t know.”
Hazel nodded. If Sheriff Cross needed her help, she’d give it. Funny, because a few months ago, she may not have been so willing.
Deputy Simmons drove Hazel and Anthony Ray to the Rockwell Manor. She was happy that she didn’t have to drive for once, because it gave her a chance to take in the forest around Lake Celeste in the spring. Bursts of purple and yellow crocuses bloomed at the bases of the cedar and pine trees, and her breath snagged in her throat when the deputy turned down the long drive that led to Rockwell Manor.
She was right, and the garden was much better in the daylight. Though, at the moment, it was crowded with people looking for the missing teen. At least she’d thought to grab the Pentax from her truck, just in case. Though Hazel hoped to photograph the Manor and nothing grizzly that day.
Her stomach tied into knots as she climbed out, gripping Anthony Ray’s leash and looking around. Thankfully, Anthony Ray wasn’t skittish in the least. New people didn’t bother him, so he immediately began sniffing the gravel driveway.
“Where should I start looking?” she asked Simmons.
The deputy glanced around, but he looked as clueless as she felt. “Wherever the cat leads you, I guess.”
That wasn’t much help, but Hazel shrugged and let Anthony Ray lead the way.
She noted the large number of cars there that morning. Not unusual for a missing teen.
Tyson Bridger stood near the sweeping front porch that overlooked Lake Celeste just down a rolling lawn, and he was talking with a middle-aged woman who wore a smart suit.
Anthony Ray trotted in their direction, and Hazel looked for clues among the hedge and spring bulbs that lined the planter near the porch. He kept trying to dig a hole near a bunch of daffodils, and Hazel pulled him away. Tyson Bridger might have something nasty to say if he caught her cat trying to do his business there.
“If you want to increase the insurance, we’ll have to send another appraiser,” the woman said and hugged a clipboard to her chest.
“Well, do you see the mess they’ve made? One item is already missing. Imagine if they broke something! Send whoever you like, but you know the Manor and her contents are appraised yearly,” Tyson said, his tone tetchy.
The man was worried about antiques at a time like this?
Hazel shook her head, and Anthony Ray gave up on the planter and tugged her toward the gardens.
On the way, a familiar face popped up next to her. In the daylight, and without any makeup, Violet Cross shared many of her uncle’s finer features. The high cheekbones, and thin lips. On her, it leaned toward prettiness. She had a softness around her mouth that he didn’t possess, and a few freckles on her cheeks that reminded Hazel of Ruth, her own niece.
“Hi, Hazel. Can I stick with you? Uncle Colton is all like ‘you can sit in the house and wait,’ but that old guy told me I couldn’t sit anywhere, and I think we need as many people looking for this guy as possible, don’t we?” she said and tugged at the ripped edge of her skirt. It was lacy and black and fell to her knees. She wore a pair of black combat boots, and a black band T-shirt with a dark gray sweater thrown over the top. Her dark hair hung in her face, and the only soft thing about her was the golden locket she wore around her neck.
Hazel looked around for Sheriff Cross, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. “Sure. But if we find anything unseemly, close your eyes.”
“Like a body? You think the kid is dead too, don’t you?” She leaned down to pet Anthony Ray. “I love black cats, by the way. I have a cat, but he’s at my grandparents’ house right now.” She said the second bit with a pout.
“I don’t know if he’s dead or not. Lake Celeste is a dangerous place in the winter. Any time of year, actually. The water is so cold that hypothermia sets in within minutes.” She wasn’t sure why she explained it. Most children didn’t care about that sort of thing.
Violet nodded, eyes wide. “I’ve read about that. Lots of people drown in this lake, don’t they?”
Hazel swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “They do. Let’s hope this Spring Fling King isn’t one of them.”
Anthony Ray tugged Hazel in this direction and that, and Hazel and Violet followed. He wandered around the garden at first, and Hazel noticed that most of the searchers where at the edge of the lake or near the forest.
Anthony Ray wasn’t interested in those areas. He pulled her toward the hedge maze, and she had to remind him not to just plow through the bushes. While it was simple for a cat, it wasn’t so simple for a fully-grown woman or a teenage girl. Hazel didn’t want to come out covered in brambles and leaves.
Violet didn’t seem predisposed to chat Hazel’s ear off, though she did ask a few questions about Anthony Ray and Hazel’s work in LA.
“What college did you go to?”
Hazel told her.
Violet whistled. “That’s impressive. Does Uncle Colton know? He tried to get in there, and I guess his grades weren’t up to par when he was in high school. That’s what my dad said, anyway. Back before–” Her face fell into a contemplative sadness that Hazel was used to on her sister.
She reached over and patted Violet’s back. “What happened to your parents? The sheriff never mentioned.”
Violet stood still. “Car accident when I was eleven. I was in the car when it happened. Simon wasn’t. So that was good. He was really little, and it might’ve been much worse.”
Hazel pinched her lips together and frowned. All the useless platitudes that came to mind couldn’t properly convey the depth of her empathy for Violet. It was sort of like how she felt after Esther lost her husband. What could she say to make it better? Nothing. So, she simply slung an arm around Violet and pulled her into a half hug. “I’m so sorry. I thought you needed a hug.”
Violet blinked up at her and gave her a watery smile. “You’re a lot better at this stuff than Uncle Colton.”
Hazel snorted. “Don’t tell him that.”
“Why? You think he’d get jealous?”
Hazel laughed. She hoped not. “He’s good at different things. Everybody is. You shouldn’t hold his weaknesses against him. At least he knows how to ask for help. Which is important.”
Hazel didn’t mention it was something she could work on herself. Or that Sheriff Cross wasn’t so good at asking for help just a few short months before. Something had changed him. She wondered what.
Anthony Ray tugged on the leash suddenly, and she rushed after him. He nearly pulled it out of her hand, and Hazel frowned.
That’s what he did when he found something.
Though, it could be anything from a missing teenage boy to a raccoon, knowing Anthony Ray.
They ducked around another corner, nearly at a jog, and Anthony Ray came to a dead stop and hissed. The maze opened into a courtyard with a planter of dormant rose bushes and a bench at the edge.
The boy was waiting fo
r them, sprawled in the thorns.
Hazel gasped and immediately turned Violet’s back on the scene. She felt the girl trembling under her hands. “Do you know the way back?”
“I think so. Is that what I think it is?” Violet said in a ragged whisper.
“I’m afraid so. You need to go back and get your uncle. You got that? Only tell Sheriff Cross or one of the deputies.”
Violet nodded and rushed back into the maze.
Slowly, Hazel turned around and crouched to pet Anthony Ray. His hackles were raised, and he stared at the Spring Fling King.
Well, they found him.
But they were too late.
Chapter 5
Hazel slung the Pentax from her neck, fingers shaking, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath of the crisp, spring air, sunshine warming her face, then wrinkled her nose.
That was odd.
She smelled something floral and fragrant, but there weren’t any flowers in the hedge maze. Not blooming yet, anyway. The Spring Fling King was in a rosebush that hadn’t started to bud yet. She saw the gouges where the thorns dug into his skin under his white dress shirt in her mind’s eye and took another sniff of the air.
Dead body.
Check.
Distinctly unpleasant.
But there it was again. A lovely floral fragrance.
Not hyacinth. And those were the only things blooming that smelled strongly this time of year.
Anthony Ray let out a yowl, and she wound his leash tightly around her forearm. “Don’t mess with the body,” she told her cat, and hoped he listened.
She flicked the lens cap off the Pentax and started photographing before anyone else could contaminate the crime scene.
It wasn’t easy, with the teen’s neck twisted at that angle and the bloody gash that graced the side of his brow, or how blue and stiff he looked. That meant he’d been dead for a while. Long enough for rigor mortis to set in. He must’ve died sometime last night. The medical examiner would give them a more exact timeframe.
She scanned the ground next to the body and found what looked like footprints and drag marks in the gravel walkway. She photographed those as well, keeping her distance from the body until the sheriff arrived.