My cheeks burn hot under her scrutiny. I can never hide anything from her.
“I kissed Lucas,” I say shyly.
Grandma claps her hands together in excitement. “About time,” she exclaims. “I’ve been watching you two dance for years.”
My cheeks burn even hotter. “Grandma, stop.”
“Wait til I tell Mrs. Mott,” Grandma crows. “We’ve had a bet going. If you had waited until after Christmas, you would have cost me money.”
“You’re betting on my love life?” I try to sound annoyed, but it comes out amused.
“We old ladies have to find our excitement somewhere.” She shrugs one shoulder. “So, how was it?”
I laugh out loud at this. “I’m not telling you that.”
“Ooh, that means it was good.”
“Please, stop.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.” Grandma fixes her own glass of tea and joins me at the table. “If you’re not going to dish about Lucas, tell me how this morning went.”
The happy mood turns sour. “It sucked.”
“We already knew what they’d find. Couldn’t have been worse than the other day.”
“The other day I didn’t have to watch Crystal’s mom scream in agony.” I sip my tea and avoid Grandma’s eyes.
“That bad?” Grandma sips from her glass. “Deidre Hartley was always a drama queen.”
“Grandma, don’t talk like that,” I scold.
“Well, I feel sorry for her, of course. But she’s the type who will milk this for all it’s worth.”
“You’re awful.”
"She's awful. I never understood how a pain-in-the-butt like her has such a nice son." She shoots me a sly look.
“I’m not talking about Lucas and me right now."
“Romance is more fun than death.” Grandma scoops Jet onto her lap. "Enough death going around."
“I’m sorry about Lucy. I know she and Annette were clients of yours.”
“Annette’s a mess, as you can imagine. Lucy was her whole world, and she was taken away.” Grandma stares out the window and I wonder if she’s thinking about my mom, her only child, taken away from her. But Emily is still alive. Lucy is not.
“The coroner said that Lucy’s death was apparently caused by the horse hitting her in the head.”
Grandma sighs heavily. “Annette called earlier and told me that they released Lucy’s body. She asked me to do her hair tomorrow for the funeral.”
“Do Lucy’s hair?”
“I’ve done that kind of thing before. Unfortunately, as my clients have gotten older, I’ve done it more often than I’d like.”
“Isn’t it hard on you?”
“It’s not easy, but they deserve it. It’s a final way for me to honor them. You know what I mean?”
I think about this and sip more tea. "I guess that makes sense. I'm sorry you have to go through it, though. I never knew you did that."
“I don’t tell you everything.” Grandma tries for a joke to lighten the mood. “I can have secrets, you know.”
I smile gratefully at the effort and play along. “Old lady secrets. Yuck.”
“You’re a brat.”
“And that’s why you love me,” I retort.
Grandma rubs at a scratch on the wooden table, “What are you going to do about Crystal?” she asks seriously.
"Not sure what I can do," I say. "I have no idea who strangled her."
“But you can find out. It’s what you do.”
“It’s what Dustin and Lucas do.”
“You can help. You know you’re going to.”
I finger the coin in my pocket through the fabric of my jeans. “I tried the other day.”
“And?” Grandma’s eyes light up with interest.
“I had a client tell me about how Crystal and her friends used to hang out at a shack by the river on the Hartley property.”
“Interesting,” Grandma prompts. “What did you find there?”
“How do you know I went?”
“Because you would go and snoop as soon as you heard about it.” She sits back in her chair, prepared to listen to a story.
“Fine. I did go snoop, as you say. The place was pretty much falling down. Groundhogs have dug all over the place. I found this.”
I slap the coin on the kitchen table, gratified by Grandma’s intake of surprised breath.
“A gold coin?” She picks it up and inspects the engravings. “This is Spanish, from hundreds of years ago,” she says in awe.
“And it’s real. At least, it felt old, really old, when I tried to get a reading off it.”
“What else did you see from it?”
“Nothing. Trust me, I wish I could see something that would tell me what a very expensive coin like this was doing buried under that shack.”
Grandma turns the coin over and over in her hand, deep in thought. “It looks familiar.”
“It’s in all the pirate movies,” I point out.
“Not that. I’ve held one of these in my hand before.”
My ears perk up at that nugget. “Where, when?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. When you’ve been around as much as I have, you see a lot of things.” She places the coin back on the table and slides it to me. “Do you think it has something to do with Crystal’s murder?”
I return the coin to my pocket. “Not sure. Maybe the shack means nothing. Lucy used to hang out there with the other kids, too. Seems there might be a connection.”
“But Lucy died in an accident,” Grandma says.
“I talked to her right before that. She had something she wanted to tell me. She said I was a life-saver.” I swallow hard. “Then she died. I didn’t save her life.”
Grandma pats my hand. “Gabriella, you had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her. She tended those horses every day for years. Horses can be unpredictable."
“That’s another thing. Where did she get the money for a place as nice as that? Did she win the lottery and I don’t know about it?”
“Good at business?” Grandma ventures.
"Did mousy little Lucy Reed seem like a sharp businesswoman to you? You knew her better than I did."
“She talked a lot about her horses,” Grandma muses. “She definitely knew her stuff.”
I sigh heavily. “I’m grasping at straws. I just don’t know who would kill Crystal back then, or why. I should have been a better friend. I don’t really know anything about her life after we drifted apart.”
“Then talk to the ones who knew her best. Like her handsome brother.”
“I’ve been trying to give him space.”
“Maybe it’s not space that he needs right now. He needs you.”
I look at my silent cell phone. “I’ve been waiting for him to call all day. He went home with his parents and I didn’t want to intrude.”
“Gabriella.” Grandma shakes her head sadly. “If you sit around and wait for things to happen, nothing ever will. No wonder it took you two so long to realize you were in love.”
“Who said anything about being in love?” I ask defensively.
“You’ve been in love with that boy for a long time and he’s been in love with you. Oh, youth is wasted on the young. Call him, go to him. Do something instead of sit here and wait for your life to happen.”
“But we just dug up his dead sister this morning. He should be with his family.”
“You are his family.” She looks at me intently. “As I said, romance is more fun than death. I used to tell Dustin the same thing when he first became a cop. There will always be more crime, more cases. You can’t put your life on hold for each one, or your life will be over and you will have missed it.”
I cock my head at her, “How’d you get so smart?”
"I was born smart, sweetheart," she quips and stands up. "Now get out of here. Go console that man of yours."
“Man of mine, that sounds strange.” I stand and push my chair in.
“Ge
t used to it.” Grandma leans in for a hug. "I'm so pleased for you," she says near my ear. "About time you had some happiness."
“I really am happy, despite all the other bad stuff going on.”
She releases me and shoves me towards the door. “Cling to the happy and let the bad stuff fall where it will,” she calls after me.
The cold bites my cheeks as I make my way back to my car, but my chest still feels warm from Grandma’s hug.
Chapter 16
Gabby
Lucas’ pleasure at hearing from me makes me think Grandma was right and he’d been waiting for my call as I waited for his. He’s spent all day with his parents and quickly invites me over.
Maverick, the Great Dane’s, excitement when I walk through the door matches Lucas’ expression. “Thanks for coming. Been a long day here,” Lucas says, simultaneously kissing my cheek and pushing Maverick off of me.
“I wasn’t sure what I should do, so I stayed at work then went to Grandma’s.”
“Well, you’re here now, that’s what matters.” Once Maverick stops jumping on me, Lucas pulls me against him. I sink into him eagerly, breathe in his scent, a mixture of his cologne and stress.
“You feel good,” I mumble into his chest.
“So do you,” he answers.
“Are you going to let the girl inside the house or just paw at her all night?” Gregor Hartley interrupts.
I pull away quickly, my face on fire.
“I see you took my advice,” Gregor says slyly. “Smart girl.”
Lucas shoots me a questioning look. “Don’t ask,” I mouth to him.
“Come on in here to the kitchen,” Gregor says, motioning me down the hall. “Are you hungry? Food has already started arriving.”
My stomach rumbles loudly. "I could eat," I say casually.
“Offerings of food are a social convention that I’ve never understood.” Gregor takes a plate out of a cabinet in the spacious kitchen and hands it to me. “Makes people feel included in your grief without being too intrusive, I suppose. The action of making and delivering food to the bereaved gives people the semblance of control in an uncontrollable situation.”
I blink at the unexpected lecture. “Dad, Gabby doesn’t need a lesson right now,” Lucas comes to my rescue.
Gregor pulls open a drawer. “Right. Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. Forgive me.” He stares into the open drawer for a long moment. “A fork, right. That’s what you need.” He takes a fork then slams the drawer shut too hard.
I exchange a worried glance with Lucas. "Why don't you sit back down, Dad.”
I fill a plate with food then join Gregor at the table. Lucas leans against the counter, watching his dad with worried eyes. “You have a lovely home.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say. “This kitchen is to die for.”
I instantly regret my choice of words and shove a bite of casserole into my mouth to shut myself up.
“Deidre designed it,” Gregor says vaguely, patting Maverick's huge head. “Not that she’s much of a cook.”
I suddenly realize Deidre isn’t with us and look around. “Where’s your mom?” I ask Lucas.
"She was very upset this morning and went to bed when we got home. She hasn't come down since." Lucas looks at the doorway that leads to the hall. "Maybe we should check on her?" he asks, a flutter of worry crossing his face.
“I’ll go,” Gregor says instantly. “Leave you two love birds to it. Come, Maverick.” His odd change of mood startles, but maybe grief will do that to you.
Lucas takes the chair his father vacated. "I had some of that earlier," he motions to the food on my plate. "Good, isn't it?"
My mouth is full, so I only nod. I search my mind for something to say as I chew. No words seem adequate, so I slide my hand on top of Lucas’. The quiet of the kitchen surrounds us, the hum of the refrigerator a soothing backdrop to the intimate moment.
“I’m sorry about Crystal,” I say finally. “I can’t imagine what this must feel like to you and your parents.”
“A bit surreal,” he concedes.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Dad and I’ve been not talking about it all day. We’ve made calls to other family and friends. We have an appointment at the funeral home set. We’ve talked about a lot of things today. But not the one thing I want to discuss.”
“What’s that?” I set my fork down on the table, no longer interested in eating.
“Who the hell killed her?” he says hotly. “She didn’t bury herself there.”
“Has Dustin figured anything out yet?”
Lucas leans back in his chair in agitation. “I talked to him a while ago. He says I can’t be part of the investigation. Too close and all that crap.”
“Leave it to my brother to follow the rules,” I gripe.
“He’s right, of course. But I don’t care.” He runs a hand across his short hair. “I feel powerless and shut out.”
“There’s nothing stopping us from thinking and talking,” I point out. “Let’s start with what we know.”
“You’re teaching me how to investigate?” He gives me a wry smile.
“Not teaching, just guiding.” I lean towards him across the table. “Annette’s father died a few days before Crystal ran away. That much we know for sure. So why did Crystal run away in the first place? You’ve never really told me that part.”
Lucas looks across the kitchen and back in time. The whirring of the fridge stops suddenly and it’s too quiet in the kitchen. “The usual reasons, I guess. She had started running with a bad crowd, started getting into trouble, that kind of thing. She and mom were always fighting."
He stands up suddenly and gets himself a can of soda from the fridge. “It was just after we graduated, were you back from college for the summer?”
“I was back in River Bend, but I wasn’t home a lot. You know how it is, catching up with all the friends you haven’t seen in so long.”
I actually have no idea what that’s like, but don’t tell him that.
“Anyway, Crystal was young and dumb and ready to start her life. When Mom said she and Crystal got in a fight and that Crystal left, I honestly wasn’t that surprised. Hurt that she didn’t say good-bye or ever contact me again, but not surprised.”
"Except she didn't go anywhere. She was killed,” I say as gently as possible. “So where did she go before that?”
He sips his soda. “I have no idea. At first, we figured she’d calm down and come home eventually. I really didn’t give it too much thought.” He sips again. “What a horrible brother I am. I didn’t even know anything was wrong. I just figured she was okay and went on with my own life.” He slams the can on the counter and soda splashes onto his hand. “Crap, what a mess.” He shakes the soda off his hand into the sink.
I cross the kitchen and hand him a towel. “You had no way of knowing,” I soothe. “None of us did.”
He sighs heavily. “Someone did. The man who killed her.”
“We will figure this out.” I take the towel from him and wipe at the spilled soda.
“What did you see?” he asks.
I freeze in the act of wiping the counter. I don’t want to tell him. It’s bad enough I had to live through her death, her brother doesn’t need to hear the gory details.
“She was strangled,” I hedge.
“You saw more than that.” He turns me to face him. “I need to know. Tell me everything you saw.”
I blink a few times.
Honest, just be honest.
“She couldn’t breathe. That’s what I felt the most, her need for air. She knew whoever was doing it, because she felt betrayed.”
I search my memory of the vision. Every sensation is burned into me, but explaining is difficult. It's like trying to describe a dream you had. You can see it clearly in your mind, but it's hard to make sense of it to someone else.
“Anything else? You said she was thinking of me.”
“She was kind of
begging for you to save her. She said something about not telling, that she promised not to tell. She thought about the necklace you gave her and that it was cutting into her neck. There was a smell, too. Some sort of perfume or cologne.”
I say the words as gently as possible, but his face crumbles.
“The necklace I gave her?” he chokes on the words.
I place my hand on his shoulder, “I’m so sorry this is painful.”
He crushes me to him suddenly, his face hot against my temple, his body shaking. The fridge kicks back on, but the hum isn't loud enough to cover the sound of his pain.
I cling to him, offering whatever comfort my embrace will give. He takes a shuddering breath and pushes me away.
“Crying about it won’t bring her back.” He turns away from me to wash his face at the kitchen sink.
“I’ve cried plenty,” I tell him. “It does help.”
He tears a paper towel off the roll hanging under a cabinet and blows his nose loudly. He still hasn’t looked at me. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s been the strong one, the rock, the one who holds me when I lose it. Seeing him torn down by grief makes my heart ache, but also fills me with a sense of purpose. He trusts me to let down his guard, if even for a moment. No one’s ever trusted me like that.
"So," he says sharply and turns. "What's our next step? What else do we know?”
The vulnerability that consumed him moments ago hardens into resolve. His eyes narrow and his lips push together. I yearn to smooth the harsh expression away, but what he needs is answers.
“I heard from a client that Crystal and her friends liked to hang out at that shack down by the river.”
"Which explains your appearance at the bridge the other day." A touch of a smile flitters across his face. My lips tingle remembering our kisses. "I forgot about that place. Did you find anything or sense something?"
"Not sure if it's important, but I found this." I pull the coin out of my pocket and hand it over.
“A gold coin?” He inspects it the same way Grandma did earlier.
“Does it mean anything to you?”
He flips it in his palm. “No. You found this at the shack?”
“Yeah, and a bunch of empty bottles and beer cans.”
He flips the coin a few more times, searches it desperately like it will offer up answers.
Message in the Grave Page 9