Her mom gave her a blank stare. "Mrs. Quinton doesn't even know you, Emily, so why would she be asking you about money?"
Emily fidgeted in her seat. "Well, that's the thing. She kind of thought I was Helen?" Her statement came out sounding more like a question.
Her mom surged to her feet. "You pretended to be her own daughter?"
Emily hopped up too. "No, Mom! It wasn't like that. She mistook me for Helen." Her mom didn't answer, but she stormed up the steps into the kitchen. Giving the chili a violent stir, she turned to glare at Emily. It was clear she knew there were more disturbing questions to come.
Hanging back in the doorway, Emily quietly asked, "Is there any way Helen could have been blackmailing someone, Mom? Someone like Coach Layton?" At her mom's narrowed eyes, Emily rushed on. "I mean, have you seen Serenity Falls? It must cost Helen a small fortune to keep her mother out there. She had to be getting the money from somewhere."
Her mom sighed, leaning back on the counter beside the stove. "Em, I don't know what to think anymore. I never thought my own daughter would find a dead person in the school where she grew up and now teaches. Life is full of surprises. But Helen as a blackmailer? She's a proud woman and probably wouldn't have asked for help even if she needed it, but you know as well as I do that Helen is as ethical as they come."
Emily moved forward and hugged her mom. "I do know that, Mom, but I had to ask. I hope you understand." When her mom finally hugged her back, Emily assumed all was forgiven. Taking one last longing look at the chili, Emily decided it would be best if she headed home. Giving her mom one last squeeze, Emily slipped out the back door. Twilight had settled over the backyard, but a light was shining in her dad's small workshop. Making a quick detour, Emily cut across the yard to see what new project her dad was working on.
Pushing open the door, she inhaled the scent of sawdust. It was a smell she had always associated with her dad. He had piddled in woodworking out in the garage all the years he had taught, but when he finally retired, he set up shop back here in his own space. Emily suspected that this place was also his refuge from some of her mom's zanier craft projects. Her dad finished sawing through a board, the whine of the saw reverberating in the small room. Then he pushed his safety glasses up on his head and said, "Hey, Pumpkin! What brings you by?"
He held out his arms for a hug, and Emily stepped into his warm embrace. She had always been daddy's little girl, and she wasn't ashamed to admit it. "I was quizzing Mom about Helen." At her dad's puzzled frown, she told him about her and Gabby's trip out to Serenity Falls.
When she'd finished, her dad scratched his chin. "Sounds like the money has to figure in somewhere, but if you truly believe Helen's disappearance is tied to the coach's death, doesn't it make more sense to me to dig into his past rather than Helen's?"
Emily stared bug eyed at her dad. Was he honestly encouraging her to investigate a murder? Seeing her look of disbelief, he hastened to add, "I mean, I don't want you physically involved in any sort of investigation. I just meant doing some Internet research. Theodore is excellent at ferreting out such information." And there it was. Once again, her dad was pushing her toward Tad. Emily started to make a sarcastic comment but then stopped to consider what her dad had said. Researching Jim did make sense, and Tad was a computer nerd.
"Okay." She shrugged at her dad. "I'll ask him tomorrow at school."
Her dad examined the board he had cut. "Or you could call him now," he suggested. Emily rolled her eyes and dropped a quick kiss on her dad's stubble-covered cheek.
"I'll keep you updated," she called over her shoulder, once again stepping out into the night. The first stars were pushing through the navy velvet of the sky, and the moon looked hazy behind its thin veil of clouds. Emily headed toward her car, pulling her phone from her pocket. Enjoying the cool night air, she paced the sidewalk, where she had punished her knees and elbows while learning to roller-skate and ride her bike, waiting for Tad to pick up. When he finally did, he sounded out of breath.
"Hey, Pit," he panted.
"Am I catching you at a bad time?"
"No, I just got back from a run and was headed to the shower."
Heat flooded Emily's face at the thought of Tad in the shower. Naked. Steamy. And where had that come from? Thankful Tad couldn't see her, she stammered, "Okay, good, well, I'll keep this short." She commanded herself to get it together, listening to Tad's low chuckle. "As you know already, Gabby and I went out to Serenity Falls this afternoon." Tad gave a small grunt, but Emily steamrolled right over his disapproval, explaining what they had found. "So"—she paused for a second—"I was wondering if you could help me by doing some research into Jim's past," she said in one breath.
"Sure," Tad replied, and Emily let out a whoosh of relief. "On one condition," he continued. Uh-oh. Emily frowned at the phone in her hand.
"What condition?" she demanded suspiciously.
"You come over to dinner in a couple of hours so we can discuss what I find."
Caught off guard, Emily mumbled, "Okay." Then, straightening her shoulders, she asked, "What can I bring?"
"Nothing. I've got everything I need. You can help toss the salad when you get here." Before Emily could agree, or even respond, the line went dead and Tad was gone. She might not be getting her chili, but she was still getting dinner, so she guessed a gal couldn't complain.
CHAPTER SIX
Stepping out of the shower, Emily could feel the silence wrap around her like a blanket. Normally, she found such silence soothing, like a favorite quilt she could wrap herself up in and feel safe. But knowing that Helen was missing and Jim was dead, the silence felt like it was smothering her, a sheet covering her eyes and ears. She turned up the music on her iPod to penetrate the silence and then stood staring into her closet.
After a few minutes of unproductive shuffling of the hangers, she gave up and called Gabby, who sounded breathless and frustrated.
"Hey! I haven't had a chance to look into the cost of Serenity Falls yet. The girls have been—" Emily heard loud barks resonate down the phone line. "Sorry, Em. As I was saying—Abigail and Phoebe, you leave that poor dog alone right now!" Emily was about to offer to call back later when she heard a rich baritone in the background.
"Ah, Greg's home. He can have his turn with the little tormentors. I'm all yours. What's up?"
"I wasn't calling about Serenity Falls, though we do need to look into that. I was actually looking for an emergency consult."
Emily could practically feel Gabby's shoulders snap to attention. "What for—hair? Shoes? Clothes? Men? Murder?"
Emily laughed and realized it felt good to do so. "Clothes. I'm meeting Tad at his place for dinner, and…You'd better not be giggling, Gabriella Marie," Emily warned.
Gabby cleared her throat. "Of course not. Please continue."
Emily ignored her continued snickers. "Anyway, we're meeting to discuss some research into Jim's past that he's doing for us. So do I dress professionally? Casually? What?"
Emily and Gabby debated nearly the entire contents of her closet before Emily settled on a pair of dark skinny jeans, a turtleneck sweater, boots (with heels, of course), and dangly earrings. Emily finished off her look with smoky eye makeup, dark lipstick, and perfume. Some mousse and backcombing gave her shiny bob some volume. Strapping on her favorite watch, Emily noticed she still had plenty of time before she had to leave for Tad's. Knowing that if she settled down to watch some TV she would end up gnawing off her lipstick, Emily grabbed her favorite confidante, her journal, and headed to her breakfast nook, which had always been her favorite place to write.
Those close to Emily considered her journal writing a type of obsession. She had an entire shelf in her office dedicated to the journals she had kept over the years. She didn't think of her writing as a compulsion but rather as a way for her to process information. She thought things through more clearly by writing them down, and right now, she had plenty to puzzle over. After scribbling several pages abo
ut the events of the last few days, Emily reviewed what she had written. Chewing on the end of her pen, she considered what questions she still had concerning Jim's death and Helen's disappearance. She listed them:
1. Where's Helen?
2. Did Helen need money badly enough to blackmail someone?
3. Who could Helen have been blackmailing? Jim? About what?
4. Could Helen have killed Jim?
5. Could the money mentioned by Mrs. Quinton be simply the ramblings of an addled
mind?
6. Who would have known that Jim would be at the school that late?
7. How did Mr. Barnes afford that fancy car??
Emily knew she might be fixating on Barnes because she disliked him so much, but the timing of his new car ate at her. She had a sudden flashback from Varsity Blues, in which the main character, Mox, asks the same question about his health teacher. Turned out she was a stripper on the side. Could Barnes be a stripper on the side? Emily shuddered and slammed her journal shut. Enough speculation for now. If she had to think of Barnes in a tiny Speedo, she'd lose her appetite for dinner.
* * *
Tad answered the door wearing a soft, gray sweater and jeans, with a dishtowel slung over one shoulder. Emily blamed her salivating on the smells that wafted from the kitchen. "Smells delicious," she said as Tad took her coat. "What can I do to help?"
Tad motioned to the salad makings laid out by the cutting board. "I thought you could work on the salad while I finish up the roast chicken and new potatoes." Emily was impressed. She loved to cook but had had no idea that Tad did too. When she mentioned that, he turned to her with a slow smile. "There are several things you don't know about me, Em." His eyes held hers so that her hand faltered on the knife she was using to chop up a red pepper. She was relieved when he turned back to the stove. Chopping off a finger would definitely put a damper on the evening. "I had an excellent wine picked out to go with the chicken but figured you'd probably prefer soda," he said over his shoulder.
Emily laughed at the cold, fizzy drink he set in front of her. "You know me well, Tad. You know me well."
Tad leaned in closer, their arms brushing as he whispered, "I do, Em. That I do." Emily would have sworn that electricity was snapping in the air around them. She felt her eyes drifting closed as she swayed imperceptibly closer to Tad. Then a furry head bumped her leg at the same time claws dug through the back of her jeans. She yelped and jumped back. Duke stood, giving her his "poor me" doggy eyes. She had completely forgotten about the tiny dog. Tad looked as rattled as she did as he bent to give Duke a good rub.
"Poor guy must be hungry," Emily managed irritably. "After all, it does smell amazing in here." Duke wagged his tail happily, and Emily glared at the little traitor. The moment between her and Tad dissolved into that abyss of lost chances.
Once they were settled at his small kitchen table, Tad started in on the research he had compiled so far on Coach Layton. Emily savored the moist chicken but was frustrated by how little Tad had been able to uncover. Apparently, Jim's electronic footprint only went back as far as eleven years ago. At that time, he was teaching and coaching in a small district in Iowa.
"So where was he before Iowa?" Emily asked again.
Tad ran a hand through his hair. "That's just it, Pit. I have no idea. There is nothing out there, at least that I can find, before he started teaching in Peculiar Bluffs, Iowa."
Emily fiddled with her fork. "You know that Principal Matthews would never hire someone he hadn't completely vetted. Jim had to have had references. Maybe some of those would lead us to where he was before Iowa?"
"Good idea," Tad replied, stacking their plates and carrying them into the kitchen. "I'll check with Mr. Matthews first thing in the morning. You up for dessert? I picked up a red velvet cheesecake at Mae's Bakery yesterday." Tad waved the familiar pink-and-white-striped box under her nose.
Emily closed her eyes and inhaled as Tad slid a slice in front of her. Mae's was one of her favorite places on Earth, and Tad knew it. Her eyes snapped open, but she waited to speak until she had shoveled in the first creamy bite of heaven. She tried to keep a tiny moan from escaping, but this was Mae's, for crying out loud. Tad was watching her carefully, his slice still untouched. Emily broke off a white chocolate curl from the top of her piece and pointed it at Tad. "How did you know I'd be here for dessert?" Her eyes narrowed, but Tad didn't squirm.
"I didn't. I had to go in to order some donuts for the Mathletes' meeting, and when I saw she had one of these babies in her cooler, I couldn't resist. Why?"
Emily became intensely interested in her cheesecake. Why was she always jumping to the conclusion that Tad was trying to flirt with her? How narcissistic could she be? It was too bad that jumping to conclusions didn't burn calories, she thought, or she could be as skinny as Gabby in no time. Ignoring Tad's question, Emily changed the subject. "What about the social media sites? Surely Jim had a Facebook page or a Twitter account or something."
Tad nodded. "He does have a Facebook page, but it's only a few months old." Emily blew her bangs off her forehead in a huff. "But," he continued, "his page did say that he was in a relationship with Stephanie Lowell."
"Who's she?" Emily asked. Knowing Tad, he already had that all figured out.
He did. "She's a personal trainer at Perfect Fitness." He smirked at her. "I thought we could swing by there after the memorial service tomorrow and see what we can find out."
Emily groaned and dropped her head to the table. "Why couldn't she have been a chef? Or a clothing designer?" She knew she was perilously close to whining, but she didn't care. Of the top ten things she hated most in life, gyms rated right up there with mornings and running.
Tad had moved back to the kitchen and was running hot water in the sink to start washing dishes. Emily hurried to help him, but he shooed her away. "I'll do the dishes—you agree to go to the gym with me."
Emily crossed her arms in front of her. "Only in the name of research," she finally groused, taking a seat at the counter. "And speaking of research, don't you think we should check further into Mr. Barnes?"
Tad had pushed his sleeves up past the elbows, and Emily was trying not to notice the fine, dark hairs glistening on his forearms as he plunged his hands in the soapy water. Who knew doing the dishes could be so sexy? To detract attention from her heated face, Emily continued. "There's no way he could afford that car on our salary. What if he's like that Miss Davis in Varsity Blues?"
Tad frowned at her, trying to recall the reference. "You know, the sex ed teacher who was a stripper on the side?" she said to jog his memory.
The plate Tad was drying nearly crashed to the floor. "Are you suggesting Mr. Barnes is a stripper?" He stacked the last plate carefully in the cabinet before coming around to sit beside her. "That has to be the most ridiculous, and truly nightmare-worthy idea, I have ever heard you come up with."
The look of horror in Tad's eyes tickled Emily's funny bone. A giggle slipped out, and when Tad chuckled in return, Emily let loose with a full-out laugh that ended in her gasping for breath. The laughter eased the tension in her shoulders, and as Emily brushed her hair out of her eyes, she realized she was practically sitting in Tad's lap. She straightened so quickly, she banged his chin with the top of her head. Tad quit laughing and rubbed his jaw.
"I'm so sorry," Emily gushed, hopping up and dragging on her coat that had been left draped over the back of the couch. "One of the hazards of being short, I guess." She carefully buttoned every button on her coat, unsure of what to say or do next. Tad wasn't helping alleviate her awkwardness either. He stood casually in front of the door, her only means of escape. Terrified of making another stupid move, Emily blurted, "Thanks for dinner. And the research skills. We'll plan on the gym tomorrow."
Tad smiled at the grimace she couldn't quite mask at the mention of the gym. "You're welcome. It's a date, then." When he still didn't move, Emily took a hesitant step forward. Tad must have had the same idea she did be
cause they collided a foot from the door. Trying not to lose her balance, Emily gripped Tad's waist. His arms came around her to steady her, and they shared an awkward hug. Emily never raised her eyes from his chest, but instead, she turned and darted out the door with a hastily called "thanks again" over her shoulder.
* * *
All the way home, Emily kicked herself for the way she had fumbled the good-bye at Tad's. What was wrong with her? She was a grown woman, not a hormone-addled teenager with a crush. They were working together, and that was it. At least that's what she told herself as she let herself into her duplex, but she knew what an awful liar she was.
Even though it was late, Emily picked up the phone to spill her guts to Gabby, hoping for some sympathy. Instead, Greg answered, explaining that Gabby was busy rocking one of the girls who had woken up with a cough. Hearing how down she sounded, Greg offered to help, but Emily assured him that it was nothing but a silly girl problem and she would be fine. He reluctantly let her go, reminding her that all she had to do was call.
She settled for Bunny Tracks ice cream and old Friends reruns as her comfort instead. Yes, she had just had cheesecake, but she had to go to the gym tomorrow anyway, right? A commercial for an online dating service came on, and Emily briefly wondered if she should try something like that. It might be harder to embarrass herself over the Internet. Nah, with her track record, she could still mange it. Emily snuggled in the soft, maroon-and-navy throw blanket her mom had made her during her freshman year of high school, feeling sorry for herself. She changed the channel and came across a late-night marathon of Golden Girls reruns. Emily was chortling along with Dorothy, her favorite character, at one of Rose's silly stories, when it hit her—the Golden Girls were Helen's bedtime ritual. Emily often heard the theme song muffled through their joint walls when she was going to bed at night. The laugh died in her throat, and she stabbed the off button on the remote. Where could Helen be? Was she okay? Was she tied up in this mess of Jim's murder? And if so, how?
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