Deadly Reunion (27 page)

“Why didn’t they tear it down?”

“They finally did after Sam died.” Grace focused in on Tom’s name at the top. “You may be right about another thing, too. A jealous lover could have killed Sam. Whoever that person is, may have seen Sam and his girl together and killed Sam out of jealousy. It doesn’t necessarily have to be Tom and Hope. That may be why Sam kept the affair a secret, too. Whoever he was seeing may have been married or with someone else.”

Kyle picked up a red marker and started scribbling on the board. “The only problem
with that theory is we don’t really know who he was seeing. We don’t even know if they’re male or female. I do like your idea of our Ms. X being the killer. It’s just a shame we don’t know who that could be.”

“Whose name are you writing
, then?” Grace asked, peering around his shoulder. “Take my sister’s name off there!”

“No! Get your own board.”

*  *  *  *

Two hours later, Grace was still sitting in Kyle’s hotel room arguing with him over their suspect list. The three boards were now complete
, with suspects, motives, alibis, or lack thereof, diagrams, arrows, stars and even a crude drawing of the bell tower. The boards were starting to resemble a colorful Roshak test. Realizing that they were no closer to discovering who killed Sam and Crystal, Grace started to suggest getting a bite to eat when her phone rang. Not recognizing the number, she decided to let it go through to voice mail. Seconds later, her phone rang again.

Incapable of not answering a ringing phone, Kyle answered it for her. “Guess who,” he said, handing the phone back to her. Recognizing the voice on the other end Grace asked, “Can you not tell time?
Do you not know how long ten minutes—?”

“Grace, I ne
ed your help,” Adam said. “I can’t talk now. Can you meet me at my aunt’s lake house?”

“Why?”

“Because, I know who was in the picture with Sam.”

“
You found the picture?”

“It’s going to be great
, Grace. I’m going to record the whole thing, and I want you to be a part of it.”

“It’s nice that you thought of me
, but—”

“Of course I did. I need someone to operate the camera. Bring
Drake with you. He can help me set the lights up.”

Before she
could ask any more questions, Adam hung up.

*  *  *  *

Kyle drove the Camaro into a small clearing near the shack. The sun had just set in the distance.

“Why did you park here?” Grace asked, opening the car’s door and stepping out in
to a foot of mud.

“I don’t trust
Adam. You remember the last time we were here? We were greeted with a sawed-off shotgun. Let’s just scope the area out first before we walk up to the door.”

After scraping off the mud on her shoe with the help of the
Camaro’s door, Grace carefully made her way around the car to Kyle’s side. “I hope you have a flashlight.”

“The moon’s out. We’ll be fine,” he said
, before nearly tripping over a small branch.

Walking through the woods
, they quietly made their way to the old shack. As Grace hopped over a small thicket, she heard a car pass along the road. She could just see it tail lights as it disappeared around the curve in the road.

Kyle looked over his shoulder, towards the empty road. “I wonder if that was
Adam.”

Shrugging, Grace passed him. She could just make out the shack past a tall grouping of trees. High weeds and thorny bushes blocked any path that might have once existed to the shack. “He left a light on, at least,” she said
, as she carefully attempted to navigate around a particularly thorny bush.

Kyle grabbed her arm and pulled her back, until they were standing directly behind a tree.

“What’s wrong?”
she asked, shivering as the wind rustled the leaves around them.

“The door’s open,” he whispered uneasily. “Let’s wait a few minutes and see what happens.”

Nodding, Grace slid down the trunk of the tree, moving closer to Kyle as lightening flashed across the sky.

“We’re going to get drenched,” she said
, peering around the trunk of the tree she was hiding behind. The wind rattled the dilapidated shutters still fixed to the building, and whistled through the trees. Caught by the wind, the door swung the rest of the way open and slammed against the wall. Grace and Kyle kept their eyes on the door, waiting for Adam to come out and close it.

Five minutes passed before Kyle whispered for her to stay there while he checked the shack.

Grace tried to dissuade him from leaving her, but he paid no attention, only stopping at the sound of thunder directly overhead, followed by a quick flash of lightning.

Deciding it wasn’t exactly safe sitting by a tree in the middle of a thunderstorm, Grace quickly followed him through the woods.

By the time he reached the front steps, she had caught up with him. They slowly made their way up the steps and to the door. Thunder cracked overhead, followed by a sudden downpour. Grace seized Kyle’s arm. The darkness, the storm and the utter stillness of the cabin was combining to make her jittery.

Kyle grabbed her hand.
They both peered into the room.

Adam had redecorated the one room cabin s
ince they had last been there. A video camera and equipment were spread out around the room. A stack of cash sat on the table located in the center of the room. The corners of the room were set up with lights, the kind normally found on a movie set. A packed suitcase sat on the twin bed in the corner. A muddy shovel sat under the bed. Next to the bed was a bulletin board decorated with pictures.

Notably missing was Adam.

Grace wal
ked over to the bulletin board. No pictures of Sam. All the pictures pinned to the board were from the reunion. Crystal and Tom dancing. Hope being crowned. Crystal being crowned. A group shot of everyone sitting at the table. A shot of Grace tripping over that hideous gown.

Grace sucked in a breath as she looked back at Kyle counting the money at the table. Carefully, she yanked the last picture
off the wall, quickly stuffing it in her purse.

“What are you doing?” Kyle asked from the table, a handful of bills in his hand.

“Nothing,” she said walking towards the table. “What are you doing?”

Kyle’s gaze moved back to the money.
He carefully placed the ones in his hand back onto the table. “Nothing.”

“Did you count it?”

Kyle nodded his head. “Over five thousand.”

Grace whistled.
“Wonder why he left it out?” she asked, picking up a notepad lying beside the money.

Grace read the notation
aloud. “Duffle bag—buried after reunion—next to the fountain—Moxley house—Where’s Hope’s wrap?”

“Hope’s wrap?” Kyle asked confused.

“I had forgotten all about that. Hope lost her wrap that night. She complained about losing it all night at the hospital. She wanted me to ask the police to find it, but I told her that I thought that might be in poor taste,” she said, turning the paper over. “I wonder what Hope’s wrap has to do with this.”

Kyle walked to the back of the cabin and looked out the window. The rain was coming down hard, making it difficult to see anything out the window. “Something’s not right here. Where is he? What man in his right mind would leave the door wide open with four thousand dollars just sitting on the
table?”

“Five thousand.”

“Nope, I’m pretty sure I said four thousand,” he said pulling back the curtain.

“Put it back.”

“We have expenses. Do you know how much all of this driving around is costing me? Besides, he only paid a retainer. He still owes us.”

Suddenly
, the sky lit up with lightning. Kyle could just make out a car and a figure sitting in the driver’s seat behind a grouping of trees. “There he is. He’s out back. Sitting in his car,” he said, feeling Grace standing behind him.

“Are you sure it’s him?” she asked
, trying to peer into the darkness.

Kyle nodded. “I think so. Why would he just be sitting there?”

Grace shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t know it’s us and is scared. Come on.” Grace picked up a flashlight sitting on the kitchen counter. Turning it on, she dashed out the front door and around the side.

Kyle moved closer to the window. “Are you sure you want to go out there? Grace?” he
called out, when he didn’t get a response. Realizing she had already left he turned around and raced after her.

Grace reached the car first. The first thing she noticed was that the windows were down. Heart pounding, she walked up to the driver
-side door. Shining her flashlight into the interior, she could see Adam slumped over the wheel.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

I
t was an
hour before a squad car came barreling around the corner and screeched to a halt besides the shack. The rain had slowed to a small drizzle, as Grace and Kyle sat underneath the porch waiting for the police to arrive.

Sheriff Bellamy jumped out of the car and h
eaded to the back of the shack. When Grace would have followed, a deputy motioned for her to sit back down. While the deputy was taking their statement, an ambulance and another police car arrived.

Once Adam’s body had been taken away, Bellamy came rambling from around the corner of the shack. His boots
made slapping sounds through the mud as he made his way to the porch. Pausing only long enough to glare at them, he stomped past them and opened the door to the cabin, trailing mud behind him.

Grace watched as he threw his hat on the table, pulled out a chair and sat down counting the money.

Unable to sit still any longer, Grace snapped, “What are you doing? Why aren’t you checking for fingerprints?”

“Now
, why would I want to do that, Ms. Holliday?” he drawled, as he divided the money up into piles. “See, that’s the problem with civilians.” Looking at Kyle, he asked, “You saw the body, didn’t you? I’m sure you can explain it to your secretary, why I’m not worried about fingerprints.”

Kyle looked back at Grace, not sure what to say, “Yes, of course. Well, because . . . well, I’ll explain it to her later.” He ended lamely. “She’s been through a lot, you know.”

“Why don’t you explain it to me right now, Sheriff? You like to show off. So explain to me why you’re not interested in finding out who killed Adam.”

Bellamy sighed dramatically before looking over at his deputy, who was trying to hide a smile.

“Ms. Holliday, we don’t collect fingerprints for an obvious suicide,” he explained patiently. “Not everything is a murder.”

“Suicide?” she asked, incredulously.

Bellamy nodded. “I just spoke to the ME. That’s a medical examiner, by the way. He thinks it’s a suicide and frankly, so do I.” He held up his hand to prevent her from arguing. “He knew we were closing in on him. He couldn’t take the stress, so he shot himself. Case closed. So, you see, no need for fingerprints.”

“Where’s the suicide note?”

Bellamy sighed and picked up the notepad lying on the table and waved it at her.

Grace protested. “That’s not a suicide note.”

“Looks like he buried something on the Moxley property. I think he had a guilty conscience. Don’t worry, we’ll see what he buried, but I’m willing to bet it’s our missing murder weapon.”

“Sheriff, did you find a picture of Sam Baxter, anywhere near Adam?”
Grace asked.

Bellamy simply stared at her.

“If you find Sam’s picture could I have it, please?” Grace asked
, as nicely as possible.

“We didn’t find any pictures in the car or on the suspect.”

Feeling a sudden headache coming on, Grace laid her head on her arms.

*  *  *  *

It was twenty after nine the next morning when Grace arrived at Melodie’s home. Kyle had wanted to come with her, but she quickly nixed that idea. Grace had noticed a disturbing inclination in her old friend to ignore everything but Kyle when he was anywhere within a fifty-foot radius. At first, Grace and Kyle thought that Melodie’s interest in him would prove beneficial in uncovering more information, but surprisingly, Melodie had proved quite adept in steering their conversations away from her sister and her tragic death. So far, the only secret that Kyle had been able to uncover was that Steve attacked David Hart—although they still weren’t sure about that one—and Melodie stuffed the ballot for Hope. Grace reasoned that if they wanted answers, it was best if Grace spoke to Melodie alone.

Walking up
Melodie’s stone steps to her front door, Grace now felt certain that the key had to be in one of the pictures used in the slideshow. Despite what Bellamy believed, Grace was positive that Adam did not kill himself. By looking for the pictures used in the slideshow, he had somehow gotten too close to the killer. If she could get her hands on the pictures used that night, she was convinced that she would be able to figure out who killed Adam, Crystal, and maybe Sam. She waited impatiently for Melodie to answer the door.

As soon as the door opened, Grace asked
Melodie for the pictures used in the slideshow.

Melodie
looked over Grace’s shoulder, towards the car parked in her driveway. “Are you alone?”

Grace nodded, explaining that Kyle
had somewhere he had to be, but he really needed to see the slideshow.

Melodie
sighed. “He’s avoiding me, isn’t he?” she asked, leading Grace through the hallway and into a well-furnished office, dimly lit by a small tiffany lamp.

“No, not at all,” Grace said
, not wanting to make Melodie angry.

“Did you say something to him
about me?”

Taken aback
, Grace simply shook her head, wondering why Melodie was suddenly suspicious.

“What exactly is your relationship with
Ky?” Melodie asked, bending over the massive mahogany desk in the center of the room.

Irritated, Grace tilted her head. Lost between wanting to ask whether it was such a hardship to pronounce what is at best a two syllable name, that it absolutely must be shortened and trying to come up with a description of her and Kyle’s relationship, which was becoming more complicated by the minute, she decided to stay strictly on the reason she was visiting Melodie without sounding too condescending. “
Ky
just sent me here to look at the pictures. I’m his assistant, remember? This is what assistants do.” There, not condescending at all.

Melodie
, sensing Grace’s anger, laughed. “I knew it. You like him, don’t you? I’ve seen the way you look at him. You probably didn’t think I noticed, but the day we buried Crystal, I saw how intensely you were watching him.”

Grace hid her smile
. She was watching Kyle all right, but not for the reasons Melodie thought.

“Look Grace, we used to be friends,
so let me give you some advice—”

“Used to be?” Gr
ace asked in stunned surprised. “I thought we still were.”

“Of course we are
. That’s why I want to help you, before you embarrass yourself,” Melodie said sweetly, sitting down behind the desk.

Grace made herself comfortable in one of the large w
ingback chairs facing the desk. This ought to be interesting, she thought bitterly. If she didn’t know better, she would say Crystal was sitting before her. She had never realized quite how alike the two sisters were. “Go on. Just exactly how am I embarrassing myself?”

Melodie
leaned over the desk, a picture of friendly concern. “Grace, he is just not right for you. For one, you work for him. Office relationships never work out. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you should never date the boss?”

On that point Grace had to agree
, but she wasn’t about to give in just yet. “Melodie, I assure you. I am not dating my boss, but even if I were, it really isn’t anyone’s business.”

“Number two.
Kyle just travels in a different world than you do. He’s sophisticated, cultured, urbane. Were you aware that he is descended from royalty?” she whispered as if sharing a deep dark secret.

Royalty?
Showing remarkable restraint, in not laughing in her face, Grace said, “Fascinating. What does that have to do with anything?”

“He needs some
one who is worldly. You’re from . . . well, you’re from here.”

“So are you.”

Deftly ignoring Grace’s retort, Melodie continued. “Number three. And don’t take this the wrong way—”

“How could I?” Grace asked sarcastically.

“He needs someone his own age.”

“I’m
only three years older than him and besides, you’re five months older than me.”

“I meant spiritually.
You’re just so serious sometimes and while that’s a good thing, it just isn’t right for him. He and I have a connection. We have the same interests, the same likes and dislikes, the same background, the same—”

“You’re descended from royalty
, too?”

“My point is,”
Melodie continued testily, “He and I just make more sense together, and you’re just going to get hurt if you try to come between us.”

Sitting up straighter in her chair
, Grace asked, “Are you threatening me?”

“No. Of course not,”
Melodie said shaking her head. “I’m just warning you. Grace, you’re my friend and I don’t want to see you hurt. I want you to be happy for us.”

“Us?
Melodie, you just met him. You barely know him.”

“I know enough.
Did you know he spends his days writing poetry?”

“Did you know he spends his evenings making rabbits disappear?”

“What?”

“Nothing.
I just think you’re moving a little too fast.”

Her face turning red,
Melodie asked, “Why? Did he say something to you? Is that why he didn’t call me back yesterday?”

Tired of this argument, Grace glanced at her watch. Twenty to ten. “
Melodie, he really needs to see those pictures. Do you have them or not?” she asked, speaking slowly.

Sitting back
, Melodie took out a key and unlocked one of the desk drawers. Reaching into the drawer, she pulled out an expanding folder. The top of the folder had been marked ‘Remembrance Pictures’. Holding up the folder, she turned it upside down, spilling its contents onto the desk. Pictures, a draft invitation, and some handwritten notes lay on the desk between the two women.

“Weren’t the pictures placed on a disk?”

Melodie nodded her head. “Yes, but they’re gone.”

“
Where?”

Melodie
raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. If I knew, they wouldn’t be missing.”

When it was clear
Melodie wasn’t going to elaborate, Grace asked, “Didn’t you have a copy or a backup?”

Melodie
shrugged her shoulders. “That was Crystal’s job.”

Leaning forward
, Grace picked up several photos. “Are these all of the pictures that were used?”

“I have no idea.
Crystal is the one who set up the slideshow.”

“Crystal really never struck me as the sentimental type. Did she say why she wanted to
handle that part of the reunion?”

“I thought she was doing it to be nice. To spare me from having to remember Larry’s death.
She said she didn’t want me to be depressed before the big event. Anyway, I know these are some of the photos she used,” she said, picking up one picture, one thumb lovingly caressing the image. “Here’s one of Larry, right before graduation. I remember seeing it in the slideshow that night.”

Grace took the picture. The picture showed a smiling Larry sitting in class. From the looks of the class
, Grace thought it was probably Mr. Collins’ History class. She could just make out Melodie and Tom in the background.

Picking up the remaining pictures, Grace carefully examined each photo in turn. Mo
st of the photos were of Larry and a couple of teachers who had died in the last few years. None of Sam.

“This can’t be all,” Grace said.
“Are you sure that’s all that was in that folder?”

“Yes, I’m sure,”
Melodie said testily, picking up the folder and setting it down on the floor.

“I know I saw a couple of pictures of Sam that night.
There must be more. Can I see the folder?”

Grace thought
Melodie was about to say no, when she suddenly reached down and handed the folder over. Taking the folder, Grace opened the lid. There were four compartments in the folder. Grace carefully opened each one, checking to make sure that they didn’t miss anything. In the last compartment, Grace discovered a small picture stuck in the corner of the expanding folder. Holding her breath, she pulled it out.

Sam. Finally, she thought. It must have been taken after his accident. Sam was sitting in a wheelchair, with both legs in a cast.
Tom, Melodie, and Crystal were standing behind him, smiling. Grace flipped the picture over. Written on the back were their names and the date. November 1, 2001. Grace turned it over again. If there was a clue here, she was missing it.

“Do you remember where this was taken?”
Grace asked, handing Melodie the picture.

Melodie
shook her head. “I’m not sure. It doesn’t look like it was taken at his house. I don’t even remember posing for it,” she said, tossing the picture back on the desk.