by Louise Lynn
Ruth waved frantically at both Violet and Hazel. “Can I get help with my homework?” she asked her mom.
Esther sighed. “Only if you actually need help and you’re not asking them to do it in your stead.”
Ruth furrowed her brow. “I thought a stead was a horse? I don’t even have a horse.”
Violet laughed. “That’s steed, not stead.”
Ruth grinned at Violet. “Can you help me? It’s long division, and I hate it.”
Violet wrinkled her nose. “I hate long division too, but let’s see what we can do.”
With those two suitably distracted, Hazel settled at the other side of the bakery with Celia.
Celia had a cappuccino cupcake with a healthy serving of frothy coffee flavored whipped cream on top. Of course she would. She didn’t open a coffee shop for nothing.
“Did you shut the shop early?” Hazel asked and dug into her late lunch.
“No, not quite. I got overrun with a bunch of kids from the high school after it let out, and I got sick of them. I’d accidentally doubled schedules for the day, so I decided to give myself a break. Casey and the others can handle it.”
Celia’s staff were locals in their early twenties who commuted down to Reno for college. She gave them flexible hours, and in a moment like this, Hazel knew why she had so many.
“And you’re gonna bring them each a cupcake to compensate?”
Celia nodded at the box Esther had already packed her. “Of course. There’s a reason they call me their favorite boss. I’m probably their only boss, but I don’t mind,” she said and licked a dollop of whipped cream from the cupcake.
Hazel stomach twisted into knots as she tried to think of a way to explain what she learned about Jay to Celia. It’s not that they were currently dating, but Celia always felt protective of him. Hazel supposed she could understand that. As long as Celia didn’t run back to him at some point, because they were both terrible for each other.
Plus, she hadn’t even seen the recording from the security footage. What if it wasn’t as incriminating as Tyson Bridger claimed?
Still, she should prepare her best friend for the worst.
But first, she’d enjoy her cupcake.
Hazel took the strawberry off first and ate it. Esther had a constant supply of fresh strawberries this time of year, though she’d no doubt act like it was some big secret.
Once Hazel finished the cupcake in three big bites, she wiped her lips and looked Celia dead in the eye. “I know you want to believe that Jay is a hundred percent innocent, and I do too, but, I think there might be some pretty strong evidence against him,” she said, keeping her voice down.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Esther watching them from behind the counter, and she’d no doubt have to tell her younger sister about this later, but now, Hazel focused her attention on Celia.
Celia finished her cupcake, and she dusted the crumbs from her lips and sat up ramrod straight. “What kind of evidence? The same kind that the sheriff was holding over your mom last month?”
Hazel sighed. “No. It’s worse than that. But, I don’t know if it’s true, and since it hasn’t come to the police’s attention yet, I don’t think I should say what it is. Only that the person who had it seemed pretty insistent it was incriminating.”
Celia’s lips thinned into a line. “So, you say there’s evidence against Jay, but you don’t know what it is or you’re not willing to say what it is?”
Hazel nodded slowly. “I just didn’t want you to be surprised if something bad happened. That’s all. I mean, Travis and Jay already lied about their alibi. Robbie Smith and Travis admitted it, so this new information doesn’t look good.”
Celia looked at her long slender fingers. Her nails were perfectly done in a French manicure, something Hazel never had the time or patience to sit through. “Then what really happened that night?”
Hazel sucked in a breath. “According to Robbie, he left Jay, Travis, and Brandon alone at the Manor after the dance. Then he went back to the Lodge where he saw Benny, who is one of Jay’s regulars, and who Jay claimed was at the bar that night. But he couldn’t have been because Jay closed the bar. Benny was at the lounge in the Lodge instead.”
Celia nodded slowly. “That’s it?”
Hazel shook her head. “Unfortunately, no.”
Then she told Celia what Travis told her earlier that day about the fight he had with Brandon, and Jay and Travis’s late-night drive around the lake.
Celia chewed on her bottom lip and finally met Hazel’s eyes. “Okay. Thanks for telling me. And you’re right, it does look more suspicious than Jay let on. So why is he keeping it from the police?”
Hazel didn’t know how to word it without it sounding bad. “They were seen fighting with him that night. The fact that they’re each other’s only alibis makes it even worse. I think Travis is just scared for his uncle, but I don’t know. Something in my gut tells me Jay could have done it if he was angry enough. Or, if what Travis said is true, and they left before Brandon was dead, it could be the girlfriend.”
Celia started at that. “The blonde who wouldn’t stop crying?”
Hazel smiled. “Yeah. Her name is Amber, and according to Travis, she was the last person he saw with Brandon before he left that night. If he’s telling the truth.”
The more she learned, the weaker that ‘if’ felt.
Hazel knew she told her share of minor fibs, but nothing like that. All this double-crossing was getting exhausting. And she didn’t feel much closer to finding out who really killed Brandon Sizemore either. She just kept going in the same circle of suspects.
“Amber came to the cafe today and said you were going to do some photomontage for Brandon at his memorial, so you might be getting a lot more pictures in your email. She was telling everyone in CATfeinated about it this afternoon, then they immediately went to their phones so, just a warning,” Celia said and gave her an apologetic smile.
Hazel lowered her head to the table. “I forgot about the photomontage. I was just trying to get a look at the pictures on her phone, and that was the story I came up with. Now I’m really gonna have to do it.”
Celia smiled, though Hazel saw it was strained around the edges. “I’m sure you’ll manage. Or, at the very least, that’s what assistants are for, right?”
Hazel was the one who got herself into the mess with the photomontage, so she’s the one who would take care of it. “I can handle it, I’ll just work from home tonight. But, please don’t tell Jay. If he thinks someone has evidence against him and he skips town—”
Celia pursed her lips and nodded. “I won’t. But I don’t think he did this. I know you think I’m stupid about him, and you might be right. He may have gotten into fights when he was younger, but he’s not like that anymore. He put that part of his life behind him. He’s a decent guy.”
Hazel nodded and didn’t say what she was thinking.
Jay might be all kinds of decent around Celia, but he could still be a murderer.
Chapter 15
Hazel left Violet at the bakery, and she agreed to call her uncle and tell him where she was, while Hazel herself headed home.
Celia was right about the photos, and it took over an hour for her to download each and every one of them. It seemed like half of Cedar Valley High had decided to email her pictures.
Her eyes blurred by the time she finished going through them.
Anthony Ray settled on her lap, and Hazel set about making a suitable photomontage for the memorial service of a murdered teenager.
However, once again, a lot of the pictures were selfies with either Brandon in the background or only half of his face visible. It took longer than Hazel would have thought to find the cream of the bunch.
She wasn’t sure she should put pictures from the dance in the montage, since he had died a few hours later, but there were many that showed him smiling and obviously having a good time. With a sigh, she included them.
It als
o reminded her that she should ask Sheriff Cross what Brandon’s parents said about him. If he had any other enemies she hadn’t looked into yet.
It was after midnight when she finally finished, and her eyes were stinging so badly she didn’t think she could keep them open a moment longer. But she had to brush her teeth and drag herself upstairs before she could finally pass out. Falling asleep on the couch was never fun, and it was always too cold in the morning unless she decided to build a fire in her large wood-burning stove.
Hazel put her computer away, rubbed her eyes and removed a snoring Anthony Ray from her lap. “Bedtime, sweet boy. Yeah, you look like I feel,” she said to the yawning feline.
As she headed toward the stairs, she heard a familiar sound outside—tires on gravel—only she didn’t expect to hear it this time of night. All the curtains were drawn, and she’d already turned off the downstairs lights, so she crept toward the front window and tugged the material aside.
She was right about the sound. A car crept down her driveway.
Hazel’s blood went suddenly cold.
There weren’t any other houses on the drive to her house, and it was a half-mile from her cabin by Lake Celeste from the main road. There were times someone turned along it, despite the private property sign she had posted at the front of the drive, but this was different.
The headlights were turned off.
Her heart pounded, and her hands shook as she reached for her phone.
She stood there, gripping the phone while the car came to a stop, a good hundred feet from her front door.
What were they doing?
And, more importantly, who was it?
She didn’t recognize the vehicle, and it was too dark to get a good look at the color. The make was a newer sedan, and it wasn’t Jay Turner’s vehicle. He drove an old Camaro—the same he had in high school—and its engine was ridiculously loud. Everyone knew Jay was going to show up because of that engine, and the car in her drive ran silently.
Her fingers acted before her mind knew what it was doing, and soon enough a groggy Sheriff Cross answered his cell. “Hazel? What’s going on,” he said around a yawn.
The weariness seemed to have been zapped from her body, and Hazel drew in a shaky breath. “Maybe it’s nothing. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was just getting ready to turn in when a car drove down my driveway with no lights on. And now it’s sitting there.”
Sheriff Cross was silent on the other line for a moment. “Let me send a deputy over, just to make sure. Does anyone know you’re looking into this case besides me?”
Was this connected to the murder? That thought made it worse somehow.
“My family, Celia, Jay, Travis—yeah, basically plenty of people,” she admitted and kicked herself internally.
Sheriff Cross let out a disgruntled grumble, but he didn’t chastise her for it. “Okay. That narrows it down. I don’t think your parents, sister, or Celia would be harassing you.”
What he didn’t say was that Jay might be.
But why would Jay rent a car to do this?
“It’s not Jay Turner’s car,” Hazel whispered into the phone and wished she could see the driver through the windshield, but it was as black as the smooth surface of Lake Celeste on a calm night.
“License plate?”
“It’s too dark. I’d have to get closer.” Hazel wished she could move. She hadn’t frozen up like that since the first time she’d seen a black bear in the wild while camping. She’d surprised one on a hike, and wanted more than anything to run, but knew that was a terrible idea.
Thankfully, in that case, both she and the bear backed away without a confrontation.
This felt worse.
“Don’t go outside. I’m going to assume your doors and windows are all locked?”
“Yes, of course. What kind of car does Amber Ross drive?” Hazel asked.
Sheriff Cross sucked in a breath, and Hazel knew from that sound that he had no clue. “I couldn’t question her because her parents won’t let her talk to us without a lawyer present. And the lawyer is too busy to make the trip right now.”
Anthony Ray wound around her ankles, and the touch comforted her. “That’s not helpful.”
“Not at all. What’s the car doing now?”
Just as he said it, the car began backing out as slowly as it had come in. “It’s leaving and no one got out. You don’t have to send a deputy or anything. I’m fine. Someone probably just lost their way,” she said although she didn’t believe it.
“The deputy is coming regardless because I’ve already alerted one. If he sees anything, he’ll knock on your door. It’s gonna be Simmons. Don’t open the door for anyone else, got it?” he said and sounded more concerned than she imagined he would.
A small lump filled her throat. “Yeah. Got it.”
“I’ll stay on the phone with you until he gets there. Just to be safe,” Sheriff Cross said and yawned again.
Hazel smiled to herself. He was willing to wait and see if she was alright. That was a whole new side of him she hadn’t noticed before. Much different from her ex-husband. “Okay. I don’t think I’m going to be able to fall asleep right now anyway.”
“Me neither,” Sheriff Cross said, and she could swear, however slight, she heard a smile in his voice too.
Chapter 16
To say Hazel was tired the next morning was the understatement of the century. Sort of like saying Lake Celeste was a puddle or Sheriff Cross was kind of cute.
She drank a whole pot of coffee before stumbling out to her truck and making the ten-minute drive into Cedar Valley itself. Anthony Ray rode in the passenger seat, watching the trees zip past.
She wouldn’t have bothered getting up when she did if not for the appointment in her studio that morning, a family portrait. At least she’d have Michael to help, since her nerves were still frayed from the night before.
Even though the person in that car hadn’t stepped inside, it still felt like a violation. Coming down her driveway and sitting there with the lights off while she was trapped inside like a scared rabbit. The idea of who it could have been tumbled through her head as she drove to her studio.
As she pulled to a stop in her parking space around back, Hazel noticed several locals in front of her shop, Celia among them.
That was odd.
Her gut twisted as she climbed out of her truck, leaving Anthony Ray there for the time being.
“What’s going on?” Hazel asked Celia as she approached.
Celia gave her a tight hug. “Esther is on her way, and I already called the sheriff, but I guess you have to see for yourself,” she said with a heavy frown.
See what for herself? Hazel did not like the sound of that.
Hazel recognized the townsfolk who’d gathered, and they stepped away from her door and gave her apologetic looks. A few of the patrons from CATfeinated stood at the end of the block watching, as if this were some sort of spectacle.
Hazel frowned when she noticed what they were looking at. Someone had spray-painted over her door and window, replacing the name of her studio—Wild @ Hart— with a different, nastier message.
It read: Stay out of it or else you nosy b—.
Hazel’s heart hammered in her chest, and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.
After what happened the night before, combined with this—yeah. She was definitely onto something, and it must be the killer.
And whoever they were, they wanted her to back off.
“I came as soon as I heard. I closed the bakery and everything,” Esther said as she hurried up and turned Hazel away from the spray paint. “Dad’s on his way right now with something that should clean this right up, okay? We’ll take care of it. You don’t have to do anything,” she said and squeezed Hazel tighter.
Hazel realized, belatedly, that she should hug her sister back. She did and felt her eyes sting. “Thank you,” she said and searched the crowd of faces for Michael.
She
found her assistant, his cheeks ashen and his hair a mess. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed to get there on time. Maybe he had a late night too—though Hazel didn’t imagine it could have been as bad as hers.
Then her eyes caught on someone else in the back of the crowd.
Jay Turner watched her, eyes narrowed, and lips pulled into a sneering frown.
Her blood went cold.
Did he do this?
If he was the killer it was more than likely he had, though Hazel didn’t know that for sure, obviously.
Celia turned her toward CATfeinated. “Come on. I’ll make you a coffee since it looks like you need it.”
As Hazel turned for the café, she noticed another set of eyes in the front of the coffee shop crowd. Amber Ross, her cell phone in her hand, snapped photos of the crowd around the studio and the message on the door and window
She wasn’t crying for her dead ex-boyfriend now—no mascara running down her cheeks. In fact, Hazel swore the girl was smiling. A nasty mean-spirited smile that made her blood boil. Hazel had never felt so inclined to break a cell phone in her life.
This girl was probably going to share the photos on Face-chat or Snap-gram or whatever other social media website teens used these days.
But Hazel wasn’t violent like Jay Turner.
“I’d rather go inside and open up. I wouldn’t mind you bringing me a coffee though,” she said and forced a smile at her best friend.
Celia nodded and gave a pleading look to Esther, who wrapped an arm around Hazel and ushered her toward the door.
The small crowd had started to dissipate now that Hazel had arrived, and many of them whispered apologies, though their eyes questioned why this had happened. Hazel nodded to them and gave them all weak smiles in return. Her hands shook as she unlocked the door, and Michael rushed inside after her.
“Sorry I’m late. I overslept. Who did this?”
“I don’t know. But I’m assuming it’s probably the same person who killed Brandon Sizemore,” Hazel said. The words felt like ash in her mouth.
“But you still don’t know who that is, do you?” Esther said as she worried her bottom lip. She hadn’t worn lipstick that day, which was probably a good thing. Otherwise it would’ve ended up all over her teeth.