by Stella Bixby
If I got there and it was a murder scene, I’d call the police.
Anonymously.
I tried not to imagine the worst.
“Who was that?” Shayla asked, making me almost topple over the back of the couch.
“It was—um—Garrett. He wants me to come over tonight.”
“You should have some cake first,” Logan said, taking a huge bite and closing her eyes in bliss. “This is delicious.”
There’s no way I could focus on cake when a man could have just been murdered.
“I don’t want any cake.” My words were sharper than I intended. “I mean, I had some the other night. Anyway, I need to go.”
“Is everything okay with you and Garrett?” Shayla whispered so only I could hear. “Have you started making wedding plans?”
“Everything is fine. Good. We’re good. We’ll make them soon.” I pulled my jacket off the hook and opened the door.
“Are you going to take Fizzy?” Shayla asked.
Fizzy.
Where was Fizzy?
“He’s probably hiding from the smoke alarm. Do you mind if I leave him? He’ll be too freaked out to get in the car.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Shayla said. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Worry was written all over her face. I should have just come clean. Told her what I’d heard. But she’d go to her TO or worse, Detective Bryant. Then she could be in trouble because I was involved. I couldn’t risk it until I knew what was going on.
When I pulled up to the gate of the reservoir, there wasn’t any indication that a car had been rammed over and over again. Not a single bit of bumper or headlight.
Nothing.
Had it happened here? Or was Desmond mistaken?
I parked Cherry Anne across the road behind a group of bushes and walked across the street. One lone street lamp flickered at the entrance gate.
If what Desmond had described had happened here, it was likely someone had seen and called the police. Before going into the reservoir, I dialed Desmond’s number. If I found his phone, I’d know this was the place.
It took three rings before I saw a small light in the tall grass about ten feet from the gate.
My stomach dropped.
Part of me hoped I wouldn’t find it. Finding it meant Desmond had been here and was likely inside the reservoir. Possibly dead.
But if there was any chance he was alive, I needed to get in there and help him.
I pocketed the cell phone, unlocked the gate, and slipped inside. I’d call the police the minute I knew what was going on.
The light from the gate didn’t shine very far into the parking lot, but it didn’t need to. The moment my eyes adjusted to the partial darkness, Desmond’s body came into view.
It looked like he was napping.
There was no blood.
I held my breath, hoping for the best.
I pushed my fingers to Desmond’s neck but felt no pulse.
I pushed harder.
Nothing.
Desmond was dead.
One gunshot wound to the chest, and he’d crumpled into a pile on the ground.
I took a step back.
I didn’t want to disturb the crime scene, or leave any evidence that I’d been here, but clutched in Desmond’s right hand was a piece of paper I might have missed entirely if it hadn’t been for its neon green color and the first three letters of my name peeking out.
Carefully, I slipped the paper out of his hand and shoved it in my pocket with his phone.
Why hadn’t the killer taken it from him? They had to have seen it.
With one final look at the man who had only wanted justice for his estranged sister, I turned and left the park.
Once safely back in my car, I opened the note and read.
Go to my house (201 W. Branch Street) the code is 4456. My board will give you all the information you need. Thank you for your help. —D
Great. Now I had to help. Not that I wasn’t going to, but it was a dying man’s last wish.
I estimated I’d have ample time to search Desmond’s house if I called the police anonymously on my way over. The phone Desmond had dropped was a burner phone, and the only number programmed into it was mine. I erased my contact information and all correspondence we’d had and then dialed 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a man’s voice answered.
I tried to make my voice sound high pitched and annoyed. “I think I heard a gunshot at Shadow Trail Reservoir.”
“A gunshot at Shadow Trail Reservoir?” the man confirmed. “And who am I speaking with?”
I hung up the phone, turned it off, wiped it down to remove my prints, and threw it out the window into the bushes I was parked behind.
The police would be here for hours processing the crime scene. It was highly unlikely they’d get to Desmond’s house before tomorrow.
I had plenty of time.
12
I put on a pair of gloves, punched the code on the number pad above Desmond’s door handle, and slipped inside. The smell of cat urine hit my nose and made my eyes water almost as bad as when I’d done my pepper spray training. I pulled my shirt up to cover my mouth and nose and made my way through the piles of garbage stacked all around.
This guy was a verifiable hoarder.
It wasn’t hard to find the board since the house was especially tiny with only one bedroom, one bathroom, and a small kitchen and living room. In the bedroom, a board covered an entire wall. Multi-colored strings weaved their way around push pins holding pictures and scribbled notes.
There was no way I would be able to read everything before the police arrived. Upon closer examination, all the strings led to one man.
Jacob.
I rubbed my head. The smell was giving me a headache. I snapped a couple of pictures of the board with my phone and decided to take another quick look around.
Carefully, I stepped around piles of old newspapers and magazines that had gone out of print years ago. Boxes of broken toys sat in one corner of the bedroom. The closet door was partially off its tracks with clothing spilling out.
Just as I was about to leave the bedroom, a crash came from the hallway.
I flattened myself on the floor between the wall and the bed and waited.
Had the police gotten here already? Or was it someone else? Someone who needed to cover his tracks.
If Jacob found me snooping around, he’d surely kill me too. I should have cashed his check and given the money to charity, at least.
The house was dead quiet. As if someone was waiting for me to show myself.
The carpet smelled like a mixture of cat pee and cigarette ash. I’d definitely have to wash my clothes when I got home.
If I got home.
A tap at my heel nearly made me scream.
I turned slowly to find a tabby cat rubbing against my shoe. I sighed a breath of relief. The noise had probably been from the cat knocking over a stack of magazines.
To be safe, I waited a bit longer. The bed was messy with its sheets askew and stained pillowcases, but the floor underneath the bed looked a whole lot worse.
I opened my phone so the screen could provide a tiny bit of light. If someone came to the doorway, they wouldn’t be able to see it.
Moldy fast-food and candy bar wrappers, toenail clippings, and underwear that had been long forgotten made me want to gag. But when the light of my phone flashed on something shiny and red, I paused.
The house was still silent. I was almost certain no one was there.
Thankful I was already wearing gloves, I pulled out a shoe that matched one I hadn’t seen long before. At the reservoir.
This shoe belonged to Selena.
It was the one she’d worn to her gala the night she’d gone missing.
And it was under Desmond’s bed.
I pushed the shoe back into its original position, took a photo with my phone, and stood up. I needed to get out of there. Luke
was right. Desmond was the killer. The shoe proved it.
Jacob probably found out Desmond killed Selena, so he killed Desmond out of revenge.
But then what was the purpose of Desmond putting the board together? Was it to frame Jacob?
I didn’t have time to think of possibilities now. I snapped a couple more pictures and decided not to push my luck.
I’d parked a few blocks over in case Luke or Shayla were assigned to search Desmond’s house. They’d instantly recognize Cherry Anne, and I’d never hear the end of it.
A knock at the door nearly made me fall over a pile of clothes. This time it definitely wasn’t a cat.
“Police. Is anyone home,” a man’s voice said.
He sounded tired, not like he was about to break down the door. I tip-toed toward the back of the house and prayed the police weren’t covering the door that led to the alley. When I peeked through the crusty dust-filled curtains, I couldn’t see anyone.
“Police,” the voice said again. “We’re here to follow up on your call. Open the door.” His voice was more forceful now.
If Desmond had called the police, why didn’t he tell them Jacob was trying to kill him? And why didn’t he stay on the line and lead them to the reservoir?
Something was off.
But I didn’t have time to think about it. If the police found me in Desmond’s house, I’d definitely lose my job. Heck, they might even think I killed Desmond.
I turned the handle quietly and slipped out onto the concrete step. The fresh air was a welcome sensation in my lungs.
When the door closed silently, I let out a breath of relief.
I took a step onto the ground, but it was much softer than what the frozen grass should have been.
In a split second, I found out why.
A screeching meeeoooowww rang out through the neighborhood. A Siamese cat hissed and swatted at me as I took my foot off its tail.
“Someone’s out back,” I heard the man’s voice say from inside the house. How they’d gotten in without making any noise was beyond me. Maybe they had the code too. Or maybe I hadn’t re-locked the door.
I sprinted as fast as I could toward the back of the lot. Thankfully, Desmond didn’t have a fence. When I heard the officer yell at the cat to move, I was around the corner and out of sight. I made it to Cherry Anne, fired her up, and drove away as quickly as I could without drawing suspicion.
I headed in the direction away from Shadow Trail.
Being nearly midnight, I didn’t want to go to Garrett’s house. And if I went back to the apartment, Shayla would give me the third degree. That only left one place.
My parents’ house.
13
It took the entire thirty-minute drive to calm my nerves. I snuck into the basement to the room I’d lived in before Shayla and I had gotten our apartment.
The bed was like a pair of open arms welcoming me into its folds. I stripped off my disgusting clothes and dove under the sheets. I wanted to look through the pictures more thoroughly from Desmond’s house, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
The smell of bacon and coffee brought a smile to my face long before the sun came up. My soiled clothes from the night before were clean and neatly folded on the chair next to the door.
“Good morning,” my mom said when I got to the top of the stairs. I’d taken a shower and tied my wet hair up into a messy bun.
“Hi,” I said. “Thanks for washing my clothes. Sorry if I woke you when I came in.”
“If anything woke me, it was the stench on those clothes. Why in the world did you smell like a pile of garbage?”
“It’s a long story,” I said. And not one I was about to get into with her.
“I didn’t expect you. I hope the sheets were okay.”
“They were perfect.” I slipped a slice of bacon into my mouth and closed my eyes. It was moments like these I missed being at home.
“Don’t eat all the bacon, it’s for your father,” Mom said.
Then again, living on my own had its advantages.
“I can throw the sheets into the wash before I leave. I’m off today anyway.”
“Don’t worry about it. They were getting musty after not being used for so long.” Her guilt-trip game was on point today. “Have you enjoyed your freedom from my clutches?”
“It’s been okay. I mean, I’ve missed seeing you every day,” I added for good measure. “But living with Shayla is nice.”
“I bet she’s much cleaner than you are.”
I raised my eyebrows and took a sip from the cup of coffee she’d just poured for me.
“What? It’s no secret that you’re rather messy. How does Garrett feel about that?”
“He has a housekeeper.” I shrugged.
“I guess he’ll be able to save money when the two of you are married, then.”
“How’s that?” The thought of being married twisted my stomach with anxiety. The last time I’d lived with a man, I’d found him naked in our bed with another woman.
“He can let his maid go. That’s the job of a wife.”
Maybe in her house, it was.
“We’ll probably keep her on. It’s not like saying ‘I do’ will instantly make me into a clean freak.”
Mom gave me a look of irritation but didn’t push. “Speaking of Garrett, when are we going to work on wedding plans? I mean, I have a whole binder of ideas. And I went to the bookstore and got some wedding magazines. You’re welcome to wear my dress. I think Megan still has it from her wedding. But what about a venue?”
My eye started to twitch. I had not had enough coffee for this discussion. “Garrett and I haven’t really had a chance to talk about the wedding much.”
“Is he still mad at you for kissing that Italian man?”
Mom never was one to have any sort of filter. “We’re working through it.”
“That’s good. Because if he hadn’t forgiven you, he shouldn’t have given you that ring.” She grabbed my hand. “It’s so beautiful.” She pulled my hand closer. “Is that blood?”
I yanked my hand away and examined the ring. Sure enough, there was a speck of blood on the band. It had to be Desmond’s. I thought I’d been careful.
“It’s probably just ketchup,” I said, walking to the sink to wash the blood off.
“You’ve been working on another case, haven’t you?”
She couldn’t possibly know that. “What case would I be working on?”
“The Selena Marquez case. I saw you in the background of the press conference with her husband and his floozy.”
“You mean his wife?” I asked.
“Elodie is not Jacob’s wife.” She spoke as if she knew these people. “I’m sure she’d like to be, but Jacob refuses to marry her.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“I read the magazines in the check-out aisle.”
I sighed. “You know those aren’t real, right? Like, they lie about everything.”
“Not about Jacob and Elodie. I know a lady who does prenatal yoga with Elodie, and she said Elodie’s always complaining about how Jacob is still in love with Selena.”
“So you don’t think Jacob is responsible for Selena’s disappearance?”
Mom narrowed her eyes. “I knew it. You are investigating this.”
“I’m not investigating anything. I’m just asking what you think. I think someone other than Jacob killed Selena and disposed of her body where no one will ever find it.”
“Like at Shadow Trail Reservoir?”
“Maybe. What’s your theory?”
“I think Elodie killed her.” Mom took a sip of coffee.
“Why would Elodie have killed her? Did she even know Selena before all of this?”
“Elodie was Jacob’s assistant for years. They were having an affair.”
If that was true, I needed to refocus my efforts. Was there a link between Elodie and Desmond? Could they have killed Selena together?
“What about Selena�
��s brother?” I asked.
“The creepy one?” Mom nodded. “He could have done it, but I thought they said he had an alibi.”
“Do you remember what it was?”
“Something sketchy. Like drugs or hookers or something.”
Desmond didn’t seem like the drug or hooker type to me. But it had been a while ago. “Thanks for the coffee and clean clothes. I need to run.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Mom asked.
I hesitated for a minute. My ring was on my finger. My phone was in my pocket . . . my pocket. The note and the check.
I looked up to find my mother holding both as if she had a winning hand of cards.
“I can explain,” I said.
“Explain why you have a check for $100,000 from a possible murderer?”
“I thought you said you thought Elodie—”
“And the address to a man’s house who was involved with hookers and drugs?”
“How did you know it was his address?”
She frowned. “I know how to use the Google.”
Rolling my eyes would not help the situation, but it was so hard not to.
“Please stay out of the investigation. Let Luke handle this one.”
“Luke is moving to the Middle East next week,” I said, hoping to distract her.
“What?” Mom’s eyes widened. “He can’t leave.”
“You can tell him that.” I carefully pulled the check and the note from her hand and deposited them in my jacket pocket. “Thanks again for the clothes and breakfast.”
But she wasn’t listening. She already had her phone in her hand typing frantically. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her letting Luke have it.
14
I got in position just before Shadow Trail was scheduled to open to the public. I laid flat on my stomach in the tall grass on a hill just north of the gate with a pair of binoculars.
From what I could tell, the police were still in the parking area, a tent covering where I’d found Desmond the night before.
Mixed emotions poured through me. Part of me wanted to cry after getting Desmond’s call and seeing his lifeless body. But the other part of me was almost certain he was responsible for Selena’s disappearance.