by Beth Yarnall
Graham folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. He’d had limited experience with politicians, but enough to know they only slithered out from under their rocks when they wanted something or were plotting reelection.
“We’re working leads and gathering evidence.”
Teddy waved a meaty hand. “Come now, Graham. We’re friends. You can give me more than that.”
“I really can’t. None of the lab work is back. There are no autopsy reports yet. I haven’t even gotten a chance to do all the interviews I need to. Any information I give you now wouldn’t do you or the citizenry any good. All we have are two victims and a lot of questions.”
“Your impressions, then.”
“My impressions are that I can’t comment on a case that hasn’t been fully investigated.”
Teddy’s jaw worked. “Semantics.”
“It would be irresponsible of us both to give the fine citizens of San Rey inaccurate or incomplete information. You’re just going to have to tell them that we’re working every possible lead.”
“I understand your position. I really do. So we’ll just keep this between you and me.” Teddy winked with the effort most people put into a push up.
Except with a politician, nothing was likely to stay where it didn’t do him the most good. Why was Teddy pushing so hard? What did he want with the information? What was he going to do with it? Could he somehow be involved in what happened at the Lasiters’ house? Great. He was going to have to add the mayor to his list of possible suspects, which was pathetically short.
“I’ll tell you what. As soon as I have something, you’ll be the first to know.” Graham stood. “I give you my word.”
Teddy heaved himself to his feet, his face mottled red with the effort as he faced Graham across the desk. “I respect your family’s fine…tradition. Your father was a sheriff who knew his job. I expect he’s got a few ropes he still needs to show you.” Teddy’s marbled gaze rolled about the room, over the portraits of Graham’s ancestors, coming to rest on the badge clipped to Graham’s shirt pocket. “I expect you’ll learn the way of things…yet.”
As Teddy lurched toward the door Graham felt the eyes of his forefathers watching, judging. He’d only been on the job a couple weeks and had already made an enemy of the mayor. Damned small town with its small minds and small town politics.
He dug his fingernails into the underside of the polished walnut desk. The ever-present urge to get the hell out rose up inside him, lodging hard and suffocating in his chest. He shouldn’t have come back to San Rey. Shouldn’t have let his father guilt him in to taking over as sheriff.
And he sure as hell should never have touched Erin December.
8
Rumors and speculation catapulted what had happened at the Lasiter house into the story of the century in San Rey, with Erin at the center of it all. People who hadn’t spoken to her in weeks suddenly sought her out, wanting the gory details, when they weren’t pointing at her and whispering about her behind their hands with their friends. She was now notorious for an entirely different reason.
She wouldn’t have risked an outing to the hair salon unless she was desperate. As usual for a Saturday, the Clippity-Do-Da was packed. Erin tried to keep to herself and ignore the furtive looks from the other ladies having their hair done. So when the blatant stares turned away from her and toward the door, Erin couldn’t help but turn to see what or who had snagged their attention.
Graham.
He looked haggard and drawn. She hadn’t seen him since the morning she gave her statement, but she could tell the case was wearing on him. Her own dark circled eyes and pale complexion gave away the fact that she wasn’t sleeping well either. She had to admit that she’d missed the sight of him. The usual feminine salon chatter shrank to appreciative whispers as the door whooshed closed behind him.
He spoke to the receptionist who immediately approached Erin’s hairstylist to let her know that Graham was there to see her. Erin slid deeper into her seat. Graham recognized her anyway with a twitch of a smile. Ignoring the stares and murmurs of the lady patrons, he settled onto the waiting area couch with a People magazine, giving it all of his attention.
Leaning close to Erin’s foiled head, Candy whispered, “He’s here to talk to me about Deidre and Greg. I still can’t believe they’re gone.”
“Me either,” Erin responded. Candy was one of the few people who hadn’t pumped her for information about the murder/suicide.
“I just don’t get it. How could Greg have killed her? Why? Their divorce was amicable. I know he’d recently lost his job and was losing his house. It’s just so…”
“Horrible.”
Candy met Erin’s gaze in the mirror. “Yeah. I guess you’d know about that. Did Greg say anything? Tell you why he did it?”
And there it was. The question she’d been asked a million times. Erin dropped her voice so no one would overhear. “He didn’t kill her.”
“He said that?”
Erin nodded.
Candy shook her head. “And you believed him? Why?”
How to answer? Candy had been more of a friend to her than anyone, but it wasn’t as though Erin could tell her about the vision of Deidre opening the door to her killer or seeing the murder through the killer’s eyes. There were some details she couldn’t bring herself to think about, let alone talk about. Except with Graham.
“I just do,” Erin finally answered.
“I’m going to miss her. Deidre could be…difficult sometimes, but she didn’t deserve to die.”
“No. She didn’t.”
Candy continued to work on Erin’s hair, but she didn’t ask any more questions. Thankfully she changed topics to talk about something funny her dog had done. Erin was grateful she didn’t press for more.
Candy painted color onto the last foil and folded it up. “Come on. Let’s put you under the dryer.”
Erin followed Candy to the bank of dryers at the back of the salon where a couple of other clients sat getting pink cheeked. Candy fiddled with the knobs, then lowered the hood over Erin’s head. Erin had a perfect view of the front of the salon. She watched Candy stroll up to Graham with a little extra swing in her skin-tight jeans. She flipped her purple streaked hair and laughed as Graham rose from the couch and tossed the magazine aside. They went outside and sat at the café table in front of the window.
“They’d make a nice couple,” the woman next to Erin said with a sigh to her friend on her other side. “We need a sheriff who’s settled.”
“He should be spending more time controlling crime than flirting with girls,” the friend harrumphed. “It’s gotten so I won’t go out at night.”
“Me either. Did you hear how Doreen got her purse snatched right on Main Street?”
Erin tuned out the complaining women, too caught up in the scene at the front of the salon. Candy leaned an elbow on the table, her chin in her hand. Every now and then she’d reach over and touch Graham’s arm as he wrote in his notebook. At one point he smiled at something Candy said. His real smile, the one he’d teased Erin with. Erin tried not to be jealous of Candy and had almost convinced herself she wasn’t when Graham leaned closer to Candy. He said something, then winked, eliciting a lingering stroke on his arm from Candy. Was he flirting with Candy? Erin knew she didn’t have the right to be mad at how close Graham and Candy were, but son of a bitch. It wasn’t that long ago that Graham was paying Erin that kind of attention.
The tone of the conversation outside seemed to change. Graham and Candy’s body language shifted, going from teasing to serious. They moved a little closer across the table, mirroring each other’s poses. Candy pulled the pen out of Graham’s grasp, reached for his other hand, and wrote something on his palm. She tapped the end of the pen against her lips, then handed it back to him. They rose from the table as Erin’s dryer clicked off. Candy gave Graham a hug and waved goodbye to him, then stood a few minutes more, watching him walk away. She turned to come back in w
ith little a shiver.
Candy couldn’t seem to suppress her grin as she made her way to Erin. She dipped her head shyly when one of her coworkers teased her about Graham, but didn’t comment.
“Let me check to see if you’re done,” Candy said, lifting the dryer hood and opening one of the foils on Erin’s head. “You’re good. Let’s get you shampooed.”
Erin followed Candy to the shampoo area, then lay back in the chair with her head in the shampoo bowl. The scent of permanent wave solution and bleach was sharper here, stinging Erin’s nose as Candy pulled the foils from her hair and began rinsing the color out.
“You know there’s just something about a man in uniform,” Candy said with a sigh. “Or maybe there’s just something about Graham Doran.”
Erin couldn’t help the little arrow of jealousy that had worked its way into her chest and sprung open into claws that wouldn’t let go. “So what exactly did he want to know?”
“He asked me a bunch of questions about Deidre. Who she was seeing and when was the last time I saw her. Stuff like that.”
“I guess as her hairstylist you’d know what was going on with her better than most.”
“You’d think, but Deidre’d been kinda secretive lately. She didn’t talk too much about what was going on the last few times I saw her. Although I got the feeling something big was about to happen. I didn’t think it would be her dying though.” Candy trailed off, a sad frown digging between her brows.
“Who could’ve known?”
“It still doesn’t feel real.”
“No. It doesn’t. What do you suppose that big thing was?”
“I don’t know for sure. Like I told Graham, she seemed really happy, but I don’t think it was about the divorce. I think she might’ve been seeing someone new. The last time she was in she asked for a new style.” Candy wrapped Erin’s hair in a towel and helped her sit up. “Come on back to the chair. Are we cutting your hair today or are you still growing it out?”
“Growing it out,” Erin said as she sat in the styling chair. “Keith likes my hair long.” One more way in which she was trying with him. Always trying.
Candy suddenly gave combing out Erin’s hair more attention than it required. “You know I had to tell Graham everything I know, right?”
There was something in Candy’s expression that gave Erin an uneasy feeling. “Yeah.”
“I don’t spread rumors. What people tell me while they’re in my chair stays with me. But I had to tell Graham. He’s the police.”
That uneasy feeling deepened, morphing into dread. “Had to tell him what exactly?” Erin said slowly, wanting and yet not wanting to know.
Candy cast a watchful eye around them, then whispered, “About Keith and Deidre.”
Erin caught Candy’s gaze in the mirror. “What about Keith and Deidre?”
“Oh, God.” Candy put a hand to her chest. “You don’t know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Candy abruptly grabbed the hair dryer and switched it on.
Erin caught Candy’s wrist, stilling her. “What, Candy? Just tell me.”
Candy bit her lip as though deciding something, then she turned the dryer off and leaned close. “Keith and Deidre were a couple for a while right before and maybe a little after you and he started going out. I really thought you knew. But this doesn’t have to change anything between you and Keith. You’re so great together and I can see how much you like him and he likes you.”
But it did change things. The vision Erin had of Keith and his mother in that kitchen now had context. Keith had been seeing Deidre and might have gotten her pregnant while he and Erin had been dating. Could Keith be responsible for Deidre’s death? Was that why he’d been so solicitous toward Erin and had shown up at the police station—out of guilt? Who else knew about his and Deidre’s relationship? Did Greg know?
Erin looked up into her hairstylist’s anxious face and felt as though she was expected to make Candy feel better about her revelation. But all she could do was smile weakly and wonder if what she and Keith had shared was real or was their relationship nothing more than smoke and mirrors, the perfect distraction from his affair with Deidre?
“It’s okay,” Erin finally managed with a one-shoulder shrug that was more of a jerk. “No biggie. Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh, I’m so relieved. I don’t want to cause any trouble between the two of you.”
“No. No trouble. No trouble at all.”
Candy switched the dryer back on and began blow-drying Erin’s hair, chatting amiably about nothing in particular. Erin nodded and responded appropriately, but all the while her mind spun.
Keith and Deidre. If Keith was upset over Deidre’s death, he didn’t show it. Had Keith’s insistence on taking things to the next level with Erin been a way to ease his guilt over his relationship with Deidre? Or was it to avert attention away from his and Deidre’s relationship after her death? That would explain why he suddenly wanted to get out of town for a while.
Deidre hadn’t been expecting the man who’d killed her—a married man. At least that’s the impression Erin had gotten from her vision of Deidre and the killer. What if she’d read the vision wrong? The killer was definitely someone who enjoyed his stature in the community. His thoughts about that had been very clear. As Erin had explained to Graham, Keith was well respected and admired in San Rey. He’d earned a reputation of charity and goodness. Getting a married woman pregnant would certainly affect his standing in the community.
Would Keith have killed Deidre to protect his good name? Was Keith the father of Deidre’s baby? Could her pregnancy have played a part in what happened to her?
Erin jumped when Candy turned off the hairdryer. She’d been so absorbed in her thoughts she hadn’t paid any attention and now Candy was frowning at her.
“You’re upset,” Candy said. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“No, really. I’m okay. I was just thinking about work,” Erin lied.
Candy whisked the color cape off of Erin and rearranged Erin’s hair over her shoulders. “How do you like your new highlights?”
“They’re great. Just what I wanted. Thank you.”
“I should be done around seven. Do you want to go for a drink or something tonight?”
Erin got up slowly, tamping down the urge to flee. Her thoughts had stirred up emotions she had no defense against. She picked up her purse and turned to her friend. “Thanks, but I have plans tonight.”
“With Keith?”
“Yes.”
Candy put a hand on Erin’s arm. “Please don’t let what I said ruin your night with him.”
How could it not? “I won’t. Thanks again for my hair.”
Erin backed away, the rising need to escape making her feel shaky and weak. She paid for her hair and bolted, hitting the sidewalk at a brisk pace. She hardly registered the stares and whispers of the townsfolk as she passed. She turned right on Wicker Street and followed it up and around as it narrowed and the sidewalk gave way to a dirt path. The hard packed earth floated around her ankles as she trudged further up to where expensive homes with ocean views gave way to modest bungalows tucked into the side of the hill, shut off from the impressive vistas.
She spotted the police cruiser parked out front of her small house and slowed her pace, trying to imagine why it would be there. Then she caught sight of Graham leaning against the porch railing, waiting for her. His mirrored sunglasses glinted in the afternoon sunlight, but she knew he watched her progress as she came up her steep front walk. Without a word he peeled off the pillar and followed her into the house, not needing an invitation. She knew why he’d come. He was here to ask her about Keith and Deidre.
She hung her jacket on a hook in the entryway. He did the same and trailed after her toward the kitchen. It was a short walk. These old bungalows tucked into the rolling hills above San Rey were no bigger than a two-bedroom apartment. But there was a little plot of sloping land out back where Erin had envisioned a
tiered garden that had cemented her decision to buy. The garden now filled the view from the window over the sink, row upon row of flowers and herbs poured over the boxed edges of the beds. The aroma of fall flowers wafted in, scenting the whole house.
“Iced tea?” she asked, reaching into the refrigerator, stalling. She hadn’t yet processed her thoughts and feelings, let alone come to the point where she could translate them for Graham.
“Sure.”
She could feel him, watching, waiting as she put ice in the glasses and poured the tea. Did he think she knew about Deidre and Keith’s affair? She couldn’t figure out which he would think was worse—her knowing and not doing or saying anything about it or her not knowing and being cheated on by her boyfriend.
“Sweetener?” she asked, hoping to extend her hostess duties.
“No. Black is fine.”
She took a breath and faced him across the small kitchen island, needing the barrier.
He reached for the glass she offered, their fingers brushing briefly. Had that simple, accidental touch affected him the way it had her? Did he feel turned inside out and backwards the way she did? She fought for some equilibrium, searching for some sense of what he was thinking in his expression.
He set his sunglasses on the counter and sipped his tea, taking in everything about her. “I like your hair.”
“Thanks.”
She grew warm under his watchful gaze, which lingered improperly on areas it shouldn’t. Alone together, he didn’t bother to hide his attraction for her. It would be so easy to show him hers. He had her so twisted up and off balance, she hardly trusted herself around him.
“Why are you here?” she asked, gripping her glass with both hands.
“The coroner confirmed that Deidre was pregnant.”
She nodded.
“We won’t have the DNA results back for a few more weeks, maybe months, depending on how backlogged the lab is.”
“You’re testing the fetus against Greg’s DNA?”