by Liz Schulte
I jumped up and down to keep my blood moving as I waited. After thirty minutes, I decided she wasn’t coming. Fagan would be insufferable, but I wasn’t going to stand in the cold all night waiting. I waded through the snow toward the trees and noticed a lumpy looking pile. I eyed it carefully, waiting for it to move or jump at me, but it never even twitched. I took a deep breath. Just a downed tree. Don’t freak yourself out.
I kept my eyes locked on the mound as I steadily moved forward. The ground around it seemed darker than the rest. It’s just shadows from the trees. I tried to convince myself, but my stomach twisted, and I stopped walking.
Damn it.
I had to look. I couldn’t not look. I veered to the left and slowly approached. My nose and sinuses burned from the cold. I used my cell phone as a light again, pointing it toward the ground. A crimson mess marred and melted the white blanket of snow covering the ground. The mound in the center could only be one thing. A body.
I stared numbly. I couldn’t move as different parts of my brain warred over what to do. One part said to get the hell out of there and find Fagan before I became a disgusting pile of Ella, but another part of me, the part that had trouble reconciling that this was real, wanted a closer look—to see what I couldn’t unsee. If I had gotten that poor girl killed…
I shook off the guilt. The chances of Fagan letting me into this investigation were nil. This was my only opportunity to know, to look at the deranged product of evil once again. I squatted down, still five feet away from the body. I stretched my arm and phone toward the pile, trying to shine a light on it without disturbing the crime scene. It hardly looked human—more like a large animal that had been run over by a lawn mower, all fleshy chunks and tufts of what could be hair on top of a larger mass that could have been a body. Was that a finger? An ear? It was hard to tell in the dark, gooey pile. Maybe it wasn’t a person at all.
Dizziness swept over me and the familiar sensation of a panic attack took root. I stood up and crashed full speed through the woods, jumping at every snap and rustle of bare limbs as I strained to breathe. When I broke free on the other side, I gasped for air, but pushed on. Fagan’s car was completely dark. I skidded to a halt and stared, suddenly worried he was dead too, and I was alone.
Shit.
The lights flashed, and relief brought me close to tears. I tore open the passenger door.
“Wasting my time—”
“A body… the woods.” I cut him off. The numb calm flaked away, leaving me exposed. My hands shook uncontrollably. Saying there was a body out loud made it so much more real. The world around me spun in a blur of darkness and brought a deep-seated terror that I’d thought was gone back to life.
Fagan blinked a few times, then flew into a flurry of action. He pulled his gun, radioed for back up and paramedics, and got out of the car. I slumped sideways into the passenger seat, my feet planted on the ground outside. I leaned my head over my knees as white noise filled my head.
“You need to take me to the body.”
I ignored him, trying to stop the shaking.
He grabbed my shoulders and lurched me upright. “Show me where the body is.” His blue eyes drilled into mine.
I swallowed against the lump in my throat several times, but nodded and stood up unsteadily.
“Follow the exact path you took. We don’t want to make new tracks.”
I somehow managed to get him back into view of the pile. I pointed, but didn’t move any closer this time. The morbid fascination was gone; I just wanted to go home. I couldn’t say how long it was before red and blue lights flashed through the trees. Fagan and I headed back through the woods, and he let me sit in his car. I shut the door to block out the sounds then leaned back with my eyes closed and counted my breaths. My phone buzzed in my pocket and my heart stuttered. I took it out with shaking hands. Gabriel. Seeing his name made my eyes well. I couldn’t talk to him right now. I had to keep it together until I was alone.
It took hours. By the time Fagan returned, I no longer noticed my hands shaking because my whole body quivered. Cold and exhausted, I could hardly keep my eyes open.
“I take it you didn’t see anything.” Fagan’s voice made my muscles clench.
I let out a long, slow breath. “No.”
I couldn’t make out his facial expression in the darkness of the car, but moments later the engine came to life. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” He drove me to Martha’s in silence.
As soon as he stopped, I got out of the car and headed for the house. As I reached for the door, someone grabbed my shoulder. I yelped and swung around. Fagan gave me a rueful smile—then shoved his hands down the front of my coat. I froze. All my snarky comments and objections got caught somewhere between my brain and my throat. His rough fingers slipped under the neckline of my shirt, and I slammed my fist into his chest, making him back up a couple steps, something tearing from my skin.
The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped me out of my fight reflex. Fagan held up the small microphone I’d forgotten I had on.
“Don’t leave town until you talk to me,” he warned, then gave a curt nod. “Detective Troy. Ella.” He swaggered toward his car, then turned back before he opened its door. “And Ella? If you still want our arrangement to stand after tonight, I have a fundraiser tomorrow night. I’d like you to attend.”
I kept my back to Gabriel and steeled my nerves. I wouldn’t fall apart when I looked at him. I wasn’t that girl. He was quiet, too quiet, and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with it. Not now. Not after tonight.
“What arrangement?” His voice was soft and low behind me.
My heart squeezed, and the urge to fling myself at him so I could feel safe was almost more than I could fight. My breath came faster.
“Ella.” There was a strong edge of warning.
“I have to make four public appearances with him.”
“You what?”
My throat was dry and tight. I dug my fingernails into my palms. The pain was good. It kept my emotions at bay. “He thinks it’ll help with his re-election.”
“You’re going on dates with someone else.”
“Not dates. Public appearances.”
“Like hell. How did this seem like a good idea—”
The rage—and worse, the hurt—in his voice clawed at me. Gabriel didn’t trust me. Like I’d ever look at Fagan like that. A cool trickle of welcome anger dripped down my spine. I finally turned to face him. “I needed the case file.”
“And where will you draw the line? What’s next, Ella? How far you willing to go to get your story?”
“I don’t like what you’re implying.” I strode away from him, fury drowning my sadness and fear.
He sighed. Our pasts were staring each other in the face. If we couldn’t trust each other, our relationship would never work, and we both knew it. Gabriel had gone down this road with his ex-wife, and I’d traveled it with Danny. “You should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t think it was important.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
“I can’t do this tonight.” I started for the door.
His hand brushed down my arm. “Don’t walk away.” His voice was much softer now.
I stopped and let him turn me around. His warm eyes looked down at me with enough feeling to ease my irritation and bring back the tears. His strong shoulder was too inviting not to lie against.
“Why were you wearing a wire?” he asked as the first tear dripped over the edge.
“I told Fagan about my meeting with the witness.”
“And he made you wear a wire?”
I nodded.
“How did it go?”
“It didn’t. I think she’s dead.”
“What?” Gabriel pushed me back so he could see my face. Then his brow furrowed. “You’re crying… Start at the beginning.”
“Can we go inside first?”
We went up to my room, and I wiped my eyes and changed into warm pajamas
.
Gabriel sat on the bed. “I’m listening,” he said.
“She never showed up,” I said between broken breaths that shook my chest.
“That doesn’t mean she’s dead, El.”
“There was a body, too mangled to recognize.” I looked up at him. “It was her.”
“How do you know?” He wrapped his arms around me, smoothing my hair with his hand.
“Who else could it be? I got that girl killed.”
“No way. If it was her, what she knew got her killed. Not you.”
“But had I left it alone… had I not come here.”
“Someone else would have. Hell, if Fagan had been doing his job, he’d have found the girl before you.”
The tears came on full strength. And it wasn’t pretty crying where my face flushed softly and my eyes brightened. No, my nose ran and my sinuses clogged. My lips swelled and my puffy eyes ached. Not again. Not another body on my conscience.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked softly.
“I didn’t want to cry in front of them.”
He squeezed me tighter, and my heart silenced my confused mind.
I walked into the police station promptly at 8:00 a.m. By the time morning light streamed through my window, I had new purpose and drive in the case. I didn’t just have one murder to deal with, now I had two. If the body was the café girl, and I thought it was, then she was killed because of what she was going to tell me about Mary. Which meant the killer was definitely still in Jackson—and he was paying attention to what I was doing. If he thought another body would send me packing, he was mistaken. The gossips in Montgomery hadn’t driven me away. Ghosts and a deranged killer couldn’t scare me from my home. There was no way I was leaving here until I finished what I started. Gabriel called it misguided determination, but I didn’t care. I was a lot of things, but I wasn’t a quitter.
Fagan motioned me into his office. “I doubted I’d see you today.”
Impatience made my cheek twitch. Last night hadn’t taken Fagan off of the suspect list. The body was next to the woods where he happened to be parked. And where was he before I called him? It was true that if he was the killer, he had opportunities to dispatch of me, but killing me would be more high profile than the girl from the café. I frowned as I stared at him, then cleared my throat. “Do you want a statement?”
A ghost of a smile played at his lips. “Not necessary. You were wearing a wire, and we have you on surveillance in the police station. Your alibi couldn’t be better.”
“Then I guess I’ll get to work.”
“Just a second. Does the name Lakota Heller ring a bell?”
“Should it?”
“That’s the name of the victim.”
“Do you have pic—” He held up what looked like a yearbook photo of a girl before I could finish. I stepped nearer his desk and snatched it out of his hand so I could get a closer look. Take away about fifteen pounds, add dirty hair and a few years of a hard life, and it could definitely be the girl from the café. “That’s her.”
“Your witness. Are you certain?”
I nodded.
I could see the wheels turning in Fagan’s head, but he didn’t share. He dismissed me, taking back the picture and waving me away. I hesitated, wanting to press him for more information, but I wasn’t sure I could do so without letting him on to my line of thinking.
“I’ll pick you up at 8:00 p.m. tonight. Black tie.” His smug tone begged to be put in its place.
I pretended I didn’t hear him and walked back to the interview room. Tonight might very well be a form of cruel and unusual punishment, but it would give me an opportunity to ask more about Lakota—silver linings and all that. My phone vibrated and an unfamiliar number popped up on the screen. I considered voicemail, but finally answered.
“Hello?”
“You the writer?” said what sounded like a young man with a somewhat high voice and a general apathy.
“Maybe. Who’s this?”
I could almost hear the eye roll before the guy responded. “Dad told me to call this number and give a quote about Mary Nelson. Is this the right number?”
“You must be Alfie.”
“In the flesh.” He made no effort to hide his boredom. “Mary was a swell girl, and it’s a shame she got herself killed. Does that work for you?”
I was stunned into silence. Did he really just mock the dead girl? I flipped open my notebook and wrote Alfie Laurie on my suspect page. I could practically hear Gabriel’s voice in my head, Ella, suspects aren’t just the people you don’t like, but he had his way and I had my way.
“Are we done?” he asked in an overly chipper voice.
“Not even remotely. We need to meet in person. I have some slightly more in-depth questions.”
“Whatever. I’ll be around. Come to the frat house. Wear something”—he made two clicks with his tongue—“nice.” He spun the last word with a suggestive tone. Then laughter erupted from what sounded like multiple people in the background, and he hung up.
Fagan and this clown in the same day? “And people wonder why I’m a hermit,” I muttered aloud.
“Who called?” Fagan’s voice came from the other side of the room.
“None of your business. Don’t you have a murder to solve?” I glanced down at my watch. “Tick tock, sheriff.”
His jaw set at a hard, displeased angle, and I clamped down on my tongue with my teeth to prevent spewing any more bitchiness. I needed him to believe I wasn’t the enemy. I swallowed my pride and forced what I hoped was a pleasant expression. “Sorry. Just one of Mary’s friends who left plenty to be desired.”
“Which friend?” He watched me carefully as if trying to discern my ticks and tells.
“Alfie Laurie.”
A puzzled expression crossed his face and he scratched his arm. “The representative’s son?”
I nodded.
He took a deep breath. “You’re determined to make my life hard, aren’t you?” I shrugged. “What makes you think Alfie and Mary were friends?”
“What makes you think they weren’t?”
The shock melted away and Fagan the politician was back full force. “Alfie and Mary weren’t exactly in the same social circles. I think you ought to check your facts, Ms. Reynolds, before you ruffle the wrong feathers.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
“See that you do.”
“What do you know about Alfie? His father mentioned he’d been in some trouble.”
Fagan pressed his lips together. “Alfie has a knack for trouble that boarding school doesn’t seem to have helped. Tread lightly. The Laurie’s are a big deal in this town.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know which fraternity Alfie’s in, would you?” I ignored his comment. I wasn’t scared of the Laurie’s.
“Same one I was.” He rattled off a string of Greek letters that meant nothing to me, then turned to leave. “8:00 p.m.,” he said over his shoulder.
I collected my purse and left to track down Alfie when I realized my mistake. Meeting Alfie in person was fine… for someone who could drive. Smithton was 30 miles from here. I headed toward the bus station on Wabash with my hands jammed in my pockets and my face ducked down beneath the collar of my coat, cursing myself for never taking the time to learn something so basic. Smithton was home of Smithton College, a pricey, private university that used to be an all-girls school, but had opened its enrollment to both sexes in the last 15 years. It was the sort of place where students brought their horses with them, to be stabled in private heated stables, of course, because they couldn’t bear to part with them. Most of the students at Smithton had probably attended the same boarding schools and finishing schools growing up. Having seen Jennifer’s home, I could only imagine how out of place Mary must have felt there. It was somewhat amazing she’d made so many friends and so quickly. However, it wasn’t surprising at all that she wanted to move out of Jackson. It was the only way to fit in
with the life she must’ve wanted. However, the mental image of a social climbing 19-year-old didn’t really fit with the story the people in Jackson told of her. Which Mary was the real Mary?
At the small station, I was informed the next bus for Smithton didn’t leave for two hours and there wasn’t a return bus later in the afternoon. I sighed, but bought the ticket. Smithton was larger than Jackson, and I could get a cab from there to my house in Montgomery where I needed to go to find something to wear tonight. I went to a deli across the street that promised free Wi-Fi and ordered a sandwich before firing up my computer. I Googled Alfie Laurie on the off chance I could find something to give me insight into the kid. I had a couple hits in arrest columns in nearby area newspapers. One for indecent exposure, one for driving under the influence, and one that seemed more serious—possession. I now understood why Fagan was shocked that Alfie and Mary were friends. The two couldn’t have been more opposite on paper.
I glanced down at my clock. It was almost time to catch my bus. My phone buzzed and I answered.
“Bryan said you were looking for me,” a nasally voice said.
“Nikki?”
“Yeah. You want to talk about Mary?”
“I do, but I’m on my way to Smithton. Would you be available to talk tomorrow?”
“Are you doing this for Jennifer?”
“I am.”
“I can’t tomorrow.”
I looked at the bus pulling in and weighed my options. I really wanted to talk to Nikki, and I didn’t have to struggle with public transportation to do it, but I suspected her college life was going to open an entirely new side to Mary.
“Hello?” Nikki said with too much attitude.
“Fine. When and where do you want to meet?”