Zasha pushed away the thought of Tom’s pleading blue eyes. If it came down to a choice between her and his mother, he would choose his imposing mother. Zasha instinctively knew that she wasn’t the most important woman in his life. Well, that scenario went both ways. If it came down to a choice between Tom and Evelyn, Zasha would invariably choose Evelyn.
“If we walk, it’s going to take too long,” Zasha decided. “Can you ride a motorcycle, by any chance?”
“You have one of those here?” Ivy asked, looking pleasantly surprised.
Thankfully, Mrs. Grey wasn’t at home. She always played bridge with some local ladies on a Sunday afternoon. Zasha’s mother, Yelena, had been invited once or twice, but it was generally accepted that it was better that Yelena was happier in her garden and with a good book.
“Can’t you tell me what’s going on?” Tom asked, looking sleepy and disheveled. Zasha had never woken him on a Sunday afternoon before, and so when she came calling, he was immediately on his guard.
“I can’t tell you,” Zasha said, folding her arms over her chest. “I just need you to trust me, and don’t tell your mother what happened.”
“Do you think I was born yesterday?” Tom scoffed. “Look, whatever it is, I can help. It’s not every day that something like this happens.”
“Evelyn might be in trouble,” Zasha said, looking down at her feet. “I need to get to the farm to see what’s going on.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Tom asked carefully. “After what happened last weekend?”
“What happened last weekend?” Ivy asked curiously, mounting the motorcycle and kicking it into action.
A loud roar split the yard and Tom winced painfully. The motorcycle, Betsy, was his whole life. Tom was fascinated by all things mechanical and had saved up for two years to be able to afford her. It was the first time he had gone against his mother’s wishes, and she always complained that Betsy was a death trap. Zasha adored Betsy.
“No offense, ma’am, but who are you?” Tom asked with a frown.
“I’m your town’s only hope, honey,” Ivy said with a wink. “Zasha, are you coming or not? We’ve got work to do!”
“Trust me,” Zasha told Tom seriously. He hesitated but nodded slowly. Zasha smiled gratefully at him, stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently before hopping onto the motorcycle.
Ivy roared off, obviously enjoying herself. Zasha held on tightly to Ivy’s middle and buried her face in the woman’s back, trying not to think about how fast they were going. Even though she loved the motorcycle, she always urged Tom not to go too fast when she was on it. Zasha had always struggled with motion sickness, and now she was struggling to keep her stomach settled. Every now and then, she would yell out instructions to Ivy, but then she would clench her eyes shut and try to imagine that she was still standing on solid ground.
By the time the two women arrived at the farm, it was crawling with people. It seemed that every man in the nearby vicinity had shown up. They all looked up when they heard the sound of an engine, their eyes narrowing in disbelief when Ivy stopped in front of them.
“Howdy, folks,” Ivy said, getting off the motorcycle and shaking her bright red hair as she removed the helmet. “I heard y’all have a problem that needs fixing.”
Zasha groaned and got off the machine with shaky legs. She held out her hands to steady herself, and in an attempt to stop the world from turning. When she looked up, she saw a group of four or five men staring at them with hostility and she clenched her eyes shut. There was no way this wasn’t going to reach her parents.
“What are you doing here?” a gruff voice asked.
Zasha recognized it as one of the neighboring farmers. She wondered where the Turners were. Ivy could face the task of forcing the men to let her do her job, but all Zasha wanted to do was find her friend and find out what was going on.
“I’m the private investigator that Mr. Hyde hired, and I’m here to find a murderer,” Ivy said, smiling humorlessly. She had dropped her affected southern accent and now squared her shoulders as she stared back at the men in front of her.
Zasha walked away, heading toward the kitchen when one of the men stepped in front of her. She looked up with a frown, but paled when she saw who it was. Sebastian Black, the town’s resident troublemaker, looked down at her with a concerned expression. This was unusual. Sebastian’s usual expressions consisted of cruel delight, teasing smirks, and a smug smile.
“I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you.”
“Won’t you ever learn?” Zasha asked, her lips curling in disgust. “I don’t listen to a thing you have to say to me. Move aside, Sebastian.”
She tried to sidestep him, but he grabbed her upper arms and held her back. His grasp was gentle, but Zasha fought against it with all her might. Before anyone could stop them, two men appeared carrying a stretcher between them.
Zasha recognized the stretcher as the military issued piece of equipment that the farmers kept on hand for whenever there was an accident on the farm. The last time she had seen it was when she was staying with Evelyn and one of the neighboring farmers had an accident with an axe.
Only this time, the person on the stretcher wasn’t a vaguely familiar face who Zasha occasionally saw at the greengrocer. This time, the awful stretcher carried the form of a person more familiar to her than anyone else on earth.
Evelyn lay unmoving on the stretcher, her face so pale that she seemed see-through and her lips a startling shade of blue. The slight young woman was sopping wet, and she was wearing a dress Zasha had never seen before. Zasha watched in horror as they hurried Evelyn to her papa’s truck. As they passed by, Zasha realized that Evelyn’s dress wasn’t new. She’d seen it a million times before. It was just that the color was now dark red instead of light yellow.
Chapter Four
Zasha’s strength left her, and her knees buckled. Sebastian seemed to have been expecting something like that, because he caught her easily and put one of her arms around his neck.
“Easy, girl,” he murmured, as though he were talking to a skittish horse.
“What happened here?” Ivy asked, walking over to where Sebastian was.
“It looks like the women were attacked while Mr. Turner was in town. They were each shot, and it looks like Evelyn hit her head when she fell. When Mr. Turner got back, he found blood leading to the water tower, it looks like Evelyn survived the attack and tried to hide. We reckon he found her just in time. If he was a second later, she would’ve drowned.”
Ivy nodded gratefully and hurried over to the kitchen. There were a few men milling around, none of them looking as if they knew what to do with themselves. She surveyed the scene, noting the positioning of the bodies, feeling grateful that someone had covered them with sheets. It was obvious that the attacker had shot the mother first, and then the girls. Evelyn had probably survived because she was further away from the assailant.
“Okay,” Ivy whispered to herself. “Look around. What do you see?”
There were kitchen utensils everywhere. When Ivy peeked through the rest of the rooms in the house, she noticed that there were items strewn all over the floor.
“The attacker was looking for something,” Ivy realized. “They must’ve killed the women first, then taken their time. They knew the father wouldn’t be back for a while. That means two things. What does it mean, Ivy? One. The attacker was weaker than the father and didn’t want to get into a scuffle. Two. They knew the family’s schedule. The family probably knew them well. What next?”
Ivy walked back into the kitchen and took a deep breath. She looked at the smears where Evelyn had evidently dragged herself up. Her eyes widened and she followed the trail of blood drops until she found herself by the water tower.
“Evelyn was scared and in shock,” Ivy muttered. “She would’ve gone to the closest hiding spot. But the killer would’ve come back into the kitchen and noticed she was gone. They would’ve followed her here.”
“Your body count stands at three, Mr. Hyde,” Ivy snapped, getting annoyed by the little man’s presence. She ignored the other men around him, noticing that none of them were policemen. “You need my help more than ever. Step aside and let me do my job.”
Mr. Hyde started speaking again, but Ivy waved him off. She had learned early on that if she waited for the permission of an insecure man who found himself with an ounce of power, she’d never get anywhere.
She started pulling herself up the rungs of the ladder, imagining what it must’ve been like for Evelyn in her injured and confused state. The sun was beginning to set, and Ivy shuddered as a cool wind danced around her. She hoped that the young woman would survive, but from the looks of her, she highly doubted it. Then again, she had seen many make it back from the brink through sheer willpower. And if the girl managed to fight her way to survival so far, then all might not be lost after all.
When she got to the top, she peered down into the murky depths, feeling her mind working at full speed.
“Have you found the gun?” Ivy called out.
“No,” Mr. Hyde said, putting his hands on his hips. “We’re waiting for law enforcement to get here before we mount a search.”
“You’re stalling, Mr. Hyde. Are you afraid of a gun?”
Mr. Hyde cried out something that she didn’t hear. Ivy didn’t try too hard to hear what he was saying as she climbed down the ladder, her mind beginning to formulate a plan. She walked over to where Zasha was still standing, as if in a trance. Her eyes looked dull as the handsome young man who looked as if he was enjoying her proximity, looked around warily.
“Zasha, darling, snap out of it,” Ivy ordered, slapping Zasha’s cheek lightly. The man moved to protest, but Ivy fixed him with a glare. “Now’s not the time to go to pieces, sweetheart. Your friend is going to need your help. I have a plan, but none of these dolts will help me out. Does the family have any flashlights?”
“One,” Zasha said, blinking quickly as she fought her shock. “I’ll go get it for you.”
She seemed to realize who was holding her and scowled up at Sebastian. He let go with a grimace and watched her hurry off with a thoughtful expression.
“Come on, handsome,” Ivy snapped her fingers in front of his face. “You can pine later. I need your help with something.”
“I’m not pining,” Sebastian protested sullenly.
“I don’t care,” Ivy said honestly. “We’re going to need those big arms of yours. Come on, it’ll be a great opportunity to show off for Zasha.”
Sebastian scoffed, but followed Ivy to the water tower. He looked up critically as she began fixing her hair with a scarf. When Zasha hurried up to them, she was holding an old, battered flashlight that looked as though it would struggle to give any light.
“What’s the plan?” Zasha asked.
“You’re both coming up with me,” Ivy decided, grabbing a rung and pulling herself up. “Zasha, darling, you’re going to hold that flashlight so that I can see what I’m doing. Handsome, you’re going to pull me up when I’ve got what I need.”
“You’re not actually going to jump in there, are you? It’s suicide! You’ll never survive,” Sebastian said incredulously.
“Your friend survived,” Ivy pointed out. “And I’m betting that the killer didn’t count on that. Now, are you climbing up, or are you chicken?”
“I’m coming,” Zasha said, her voice was shaky, but her tone was firm. She immediately hurried after Ivy, her slight frame getting up the ladder with ease.
“You’re both crazy,” Sebastian decided, but Zasha felt him come up behind her.
She fought a shiver and tried not to think about their proximity. Sebastian had always had a problem with respecting her personal space. It had all started back when they were in kindergarten. He and Tom were best friends, and he resented that Zasha had joined their little duo. Ever since then, he took every opportunity to torment Zasha. Tom and Sebastian had drifted apart over the years, but Sebastian had never stopped his persecution. He had graduated from pulling her pigtails to launching spitballs at her to pulling pranks on her. She had learned to be wary of his presence, and the present situation made things even worse.
“Okay, team,” Ivy said, looking down at them as she stood over the edge. “I’m counting on you, because this isn’t going to be pleasant.”
“What are you looking for exactly?” Zasha asked, peering over the edge of the opening and shivering when she saw the dark water.
“I’ll know it when I see it,” Ivy said with a delicate shrug. She winked at them both, then lowered herself into the water. There was a splash below them and a strangled gasp as Ivy surfaced.
“Are you okay?” Zasha asked in concern.
“Who’s your new friend, Sasha?” Sebastian asked, wrinkling his nose.
“None of your business,” Zasha snapped, rolling her eyes at him.
“Flashlight, Zasha!” Ivy called. “You can flirt later.”
Zasha aimed the flashlight at Ivy’s head, wishing she could throw it at the woman. Her cheeks burned at the remark, and she elbowed Sebastian in the ribs when he sniggered at her.
“What are you doing up there?” Mr. Hyde shouted. “Get down here at once! Zasha, what am I going to tell your papa?”
“Tell him she’s gone mad,” Sebastian suggested. “That seems about right.”
“Sebastian Black, get down here at once!” Mr. Hyde called, his face turning purple with anger. “Why’s it always you?”
“Trouble comes looking for me, and I don’t let it go without a fight,” Sebastian said, obviously enjoying the situation.
“Don’t make this worse, Sebastian,” Zasha chided.
“Have a little fun, Ross,” Sebastian said with a shrug. “You’re wound so tight; you’re going to explode one of these days. What’s the matter? Are you tired of being little miss goody-two-shoes?”
“My friend is dying,” Zasha turned on him viciously, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He jerked back in surprise, almost losing his balance. “Show a little respect for once in your life, and stop being such a pompous ingrate.”
“Pompous ingrate, huh?” Sebastian echoed faintly, looking away to the horizon. “That’s a new one.”
The silence grew heavy between them, only broken by the occasional sound of Ivy resurfacing and taking in another lungful of air before promptly disappearing.
“What are we going to do now?” Sebastian asked suddenly, his voice strained. “Evie might die. Little Clara is… gone. And Mrs. Turner too. I know this is insensitive, but all I can think about is her blueberry pie. What kind of world will it be without that blueberry pie?”
There was a storm inside of Zasha that was being held back by a single pane of clear glass. Zasha could see the storm, she knew it was there, but she couldn’t feel it yet. Sebastian’s words put a chink in the glass, and she felt the whisper of the wind brush against her cheek. She immediately pushed the feelings away and clenched her eyes shut.
“We carry on,” Zasha said passionlessly, repeating the words her papa had once told her when she asked him how he dealt with the war. “That’s all we can do.”
Sebastian looked at her in alarm, his dark eyes searching her face for some sort of emotion. Zasha decided that she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of reacting and kept her gaze squarely on the water down below.
“Who’s this woman?” Sebastian asked in annoyance. “And why are we doing this? What’s her plan?”
“If you want to leave, you’re welcome to do it. But, for the love of everything that’s good, please don’t sit here and complain.”
“As sympathetic as ever, Ross,” Sebastian said sarcastically. “How do you do it?”
Down below, Ivy resurfaced for the fourth time. She was running out of strength and hope, but she knew that she couldn’t give up yet. O
n her last trip below the surface, her fingers brushed a piece of cloth. It might be a piece of the victim’s dress, but if her suspicions were correct, then it could be what she was looking for.
Up above her, she could hear the young couple arguing, and she rolled her eyes in annoyance. If this was what she was stuck with for the rest of the case, then she might as well go home now. There was nothing she despised more than ineffective assistants.
“One more time,” she promised herself as her teeth started chattering. She took a deep breath and kicked against the metal wall to push herself down further. The light up ahead was weaker than she expected, and so she had to feel around in inky blackness. When her hands finally grasped a bulky object, she gasped in surprise, feeling the air bubbles move around her face. She immediately pushed herself up and spat water from her mouth.
“Handsome!” she called out, her voice raspy and echoing against the walls of the water tower. “It’s time!”
Sebastian immediately lay flat on his belly and reached down with both arms to grab her. Pulling Ivy out of the dark water was harder than either expected, and by the time Ivy was out, Sebastian was sodden, and they were both exhausted.
“That better have been worth it,” Sebastian panted as he lay on his back staring up at the sky.
Ivy lay on the other side of the opening, while Zasha watched from her spot on the ladder. Ivy’s clothes clung to her, and her chest was heaving as she tried to find enough breath. Zasha couldn’t help but think that most people would be scandalized by Ivy’s lack of decorum.
“Believe me,” Ivy said, “it was. Come on, let’s go down and show those dunces what I’ve found.”
“Ivy,” Zasha whispered urgently, “don’t you want to wait until your clothes are dry?”
“What?” Ivy asked in confusion. “Why?”
“You’ll shock those old men into a coma if you go down like that,” Sebastian chuckled, gesturing at her form.
Sins of the Mother Page 3