Dark Passing (The Ella Reynolds Series) (18 page)

Fagan stood up, then sat back down, crossed and uncrossed his legs. His nervousness filled the room and he shifted again. Finally he seemed to come to some sort of decision, and he started talking in a slow measured tone. “I knew this would come back to haunt me; I just didn’t think it would be quite so soon.” His smile was wry. “You see this investigation was a bad time in my life. I just lost my girlfriend. I was angry, hurt, and…” He trailed off and his hands rose in a helpless gesture. “There was no evidence.”

“But maybe I can find something you missed.”

“That’s what I’m scared of. Not solving the case rocked the town’s faith in me. If you, a writer no less, come in and solve a case I couldn’t, how will they ever trust me again?”

“Isn’t it better to know who the killer is than to worry about something that may or may not happen?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know anymore. I’ve made my decisions and must live with them. But I’m not hiding any grand piece of evidence from you. What you have is all there is.” He rubbed his face hard. “I’m beat. I’ll show you to a room.”

He walked me upstairs and directed me to a room to the right of the staircase. I locked the door behind me and lay on the bed. Dust billowed up around me, making me sneeze. Fantastic. After several minutes, or maybe an hour, of not falling asleep, I got up. I crept back downstairs to get a drink. I filled a glass in the kitchen sink, then padded around the living room. I looked at his shelves. There were old family pictures, some DVDs, various electronic devices, and a few books. I plucked a particularly worn spine from the shelf and examined it. A mystery, should have known. I returned the book, but it wouldn’t slide in all the way. I reached to the back of the shelf and felt around in the darkness. A slender book had turned sideways in the back, blocking my way. I pulled it out and slid the mystery back in. The red leather-covered book in my hand looked new. I flipped through the pages and saw handwriting.
Girlish handwriting.

My breath caught. I tucked the journal into the back of my pants, picked up my water, and went quietly to the stairs. Halfway up, Fagan appeared at the top. The shadows made him seem huge and ominous. “Did you need something?” His voice was quiet, but did I hear a threat in his tone?

“Water.” I held up my glass in thankfully steady hands.

He nodded. “Goodnight, Ella.”

“Goodnight.” I squeezed past him and back into the room, once again locking the door behind me. I lay in the bed with the cover pulled up to my chin and the diary pressing into my back until I was sure he must be asleep. I silently pulled the thin notebook out and opened it to the first page.

“Property of Mary Nelson” was written in her distinct script. I placed the book in my purse, making sure to bury it under my wallet and a random collection of scrap pieces of paper and envelopes with notes to myself scrawled all over them. I took out my phone and texted Gabriel. “Fagan has the diary. Do not call. Will explain everything tomorrow.”

He responded within minutes. “Where are you?”

“At Fagan’s house in Smithton.”

This response took longer. “There better be a damn good story to go with this.”

“Tomorrow. Promise.”

I lay in bed until the sun lifted in the horizon and turned the sky pink. Then I went to the restroom and splashed water on my face, hoping I didn’t look as tired or scared as I felt. Fagan lied right to my face. He had the diary this whole time. What was in it that he felt he had to hide? Was he the older boyfriend? I could think of nothing but reading it. However, I refrained, not wanting to risk getting caught in such close quarters. I opened the door and there stood Fagan.

I jumped, hand flying to my chest.

He raised an eyebrow. “Sleep well?”

I nodded and squeezed past him. “Busy day today. I thought we should get back early.” My voice had adopted a false chipper quality that I couldn’t seem to stop.

“Okay,” he said and retreated back to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

I rushed to my bedroom and shoved my hand into my purse. Relief filled me when my fingers closed around the journal. I slung my purse over my shoulder, made sure I had my phone, and went downstairs. I sat in the living room, nervously tapping my foot. Fagan’s footsteps made heavy thumps as he came down.

“Breakfast?”

I looked up, forced a smile. “Sure.”

“I don’t keep food here, but there’s a café near where I parked the car.”

“Are we near campus?”

He gave me an odd look, but nodded. We put on our coats and headed into the frigid morning air. By the time we reached the café, my sinuses were icicles. The restaurant was almost full, but we were squeezed into a small table near the kitchen. I looked over the menu, but couldn’t concentrate on anything other than what was in my purse, not three feet away from him. When the waiter came over, I still had no idea what to order and said the first thing that caught my eye on the menu. “Eggs Benedict.”

“With hash browns or home fries?”

“Ummm, home fries.”

“White or whole wheat toast.”

“Wheat?”

“What would you like to drink?”

“Uh, coffee.” I felt like he was picking on me. Asking too many questions. Making it obvious I didn’t do a good job reading my choices.

“Cream or sugar?”

I resisted the urge to groan. “Black.” I hoped he wouldn’t come up with another question to ask. Luckily he didn’t and moved on to Fagan, who ordered the farmer’s special, which seemed like an enormous amount of food. I’d be stuck there for ages.

“You’re quiet this morning.”

“Surprise, I’m not a morning person,” I said flatly, figuring if I was too nice, he’d be really suspicious.

He chuckled. “I should’ve known.” The waiter poured us coffee. “Do you have plans for the day, other than the signing at the bookstore?”

“I wanted to see Jennifer Nelson, so I could look at Mary’s room again. And maybe visit Bryan.” I looked directly into Fagan’s eyes. “The more I find out about Mary, the less I feel I know about her.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Do we ever really know anyone?”

“Much too deep for breakfast.” I took a sip of the scalding coffee, forgetting to blow on it.

“May I join you?” Gabriel’s voice made me instantly choke on what little coffee I did manage to drink.

Fagan gave him a cool smile. Tears ran down my cheeks as I struggled to breathe. “What a coincidence meeting you here.” His voice was dry, verging on annoyed. “You always seem to be in the right place, detective.”

Gabriel sat down, patting me on the back. “I’d say I was in the neighborhood, but I wasn’t.” He rested his hand on my chair when he was reasonably certain I wasn’t going to die. “I decided it wasn’t fair for Ella to keep imposing on you. I took some vacation time to help her out, since the situation’s escalated.”

I wasn’t sure if he meant the situation with the case or the situation of Fagan spending too much time alone with me. Either way, my hackles rose. I didn’t need him to charge in and save me. I had everything under control. I asked him for help and he ignored me. Now all of a sudden, after one night alone with Fagan, he was a knight in shining armor.

“We’re a little out of your jurisdiction.” Fagan didn’t even attempt his winning smile. “But I assure you,
the situation
is under control. I was going to assign a deputy to shadow her and the other witnesses she spoke with.”

“Well, now you don’t need to.”

Fagan’s phone buzzed and he excused himself from the table, stepping out of the restaurant.

“What are you doing here?” I knocked his hand off of my chair. “How did you even find me?”

“I traced your cell phone.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that’s illegal.”

“Well, you ran off to a town where I can’t protect you. Then you texted me in the middle of the night to say you’re in a house alone with a man who”—he glanced to make sure Fagan was still outside—“you suspect is a murderer and who happens to have the dead girl’s diary in his house. What the hell was I supposed to do?” he hissed. “For all I knew, you’d be dead this morning.”

I looked down at my mug. Perhaps I could’ve handled this better.

“How did you end up here with him?”

“Fagan wanted to get a drink before he went home. I didn’t know he was planning on taking me here. He said something about having a reputation to maintain in Jackson.”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened as he looked into my probably bloodshot eyes. “You’re drinking again.” It wasn’t a question and he wasn’t smiling.

Fagan sat back down at the table.

“Anything interesting?” I asked to divert my attention from my growing guilt.

“Just police business.” Fagan took a mouthful of coffee.

Damn it. He would’ve told me if Gabriel wasn’t there.

The rest of the meal was all awkward silences and glares. I couldn’t eat, so I pushed my plate in front of Gabriel. My life was so much easier before I had so many men pushing their noses into it.

Right, like back when you didn’t leave your house and only spoke with a therapist,
a mean know-it-all voice said in my head.

“Touché,” I muttered.

Gabriel frowned at me as we walked to his car. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Ella—”

“Stop. I only drank with him because I wanted to know what he was hiding. I wanted him to talk to me. I’m not ‘drinking again,’ but if you keep harping on me, I will.” I shoved my hand through my hair. “And how did this all become my fault? I’m the one who should be mad at you.”

“Me? Why?”

“I told you I’d talk to you today. That wasn’t an invitation for you to come charging in and ruin any goodwill I managed to establish last night. I don’t exactly excel at being friendly, you know.”

“So you don’t want me here? I thought you wanted my help.”

Crap.
“I did want your help, but you weren’t interested in giving it to me until you thought Fagan might be competition.”

He opened the car door for me, waited for all my limbs to be securely inside, then slammed it shut.

“So you want me to go back?” he asked after he climbed in his side. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, just that you should’ve called me, talked to me about it.”

He drove for a while, not talking and looking straight ahead. I couldn’t make head or tails of his damned enigmatic face. “I asked for time off work before you texted last night. I figured with the third murder, maybe you did need me here.”

A flood of thoughts washed over me. Maybe I was overreacting. Everything would be easier with Gabriel there for transportation. Plus, I’d always have someone nearby who I could trust, and I would feel safer. However, Fagan would share less with me, I’d still have to go to events with him, and Gabriel was already jealous, and… “What about the house?”

“The house will be fine. I can get Eric to pick up your mail and keep an eye on things.”

I stifled a yawn and pressed back against the seat. “Then I’m glad you’re here. Three people have died. And you’re right; I’m in over my head, but I don’t want to quit.” My eyes were heavy and my blinks became longer and longer. “We’ll figure it out,” I mumbled.

You haven’t looked at the diary.
The fleeting thought trailed through my mind and as the words sank in, my eyes popped open. I picked up my purse and dug the journal out. Gabriel glanced over. “Is that the diary?”

“Yeah.”

“Christ, Ella. You removed the only piece of evidence linking him to Mary Nelson from his house. Not to mention when he figures out it’s missing, it won’t be hard to figure out who took it.”

Crap, I didn’t think about any of that. “But I needed to read it.”

“What do you think it’s going to say? It’s not like she’ll have written about her murder.”

“I don’t know,” I snapped. “Maybe her boyfriend. Maybe some clue as to who was in her life.” Maybe working with Gabriel was a mistake. I counted to ten before continuing. “I wanted it so I could figure out who her boyfriend was. But since Fagan had the book, isn’t a student, and lives near the campus, it’s probably him, so you’re right. It was dumb to take the journal.” I’d had oral surgery that was more pleasant than telling him he was right.

His lips curled as he bit back a laugh. “Wow, look how the mighty have fallen. You’ve admitted I’m right twice already and it’s not even noon.”

I tried to glare at him, but ending up smiling instead.

“Well,” he relented, “since we have it, you might as well crack it open.

January 1
^st

Dear diary,

I’m going to name you Cecelia because I can’t go on calling you by such an impersonal name as diary, can I? This year is going to be wonderful. My life is starting to make sense—all the pieces are coming together. School is better than I hoped. It was a little scary at first. I didn’t know anyone, except Alfie, and nearly everyone there is so… Pretentious seems too small of a word.

But getting out of Jackson was the best thing I ever did, though I still have to spend my weekends there and it smothers me. However, I have plans. I applied for an internship over the summer that will take me away for the entire vacation, and after that I‘m getting my own apartment!!