"There's a nice path over that way," he gestured with the hand holding the beer bottle. "It crosses a creek, but it's probably too cold to wade in this early in the year. Nice view, though."
"There's a better one on the other side of the lake," she told him. To his look of surprise she said, "I've been here before. Bill used to take us camping with his family, before his wife divorced him. Haven't been here in a few years, it's really nice. This was a great idea, Kelly."
"Aw, and here I had the whole tour speech ready! The swimming area there, boat docks, great fishing over that way, and if you look across the lake you can see the back of the Bixby mansion."
Kelly sudden stopped, red-faced. "I'm sorry, Gracie. I didn't mean…"
"It's OK, Kelly," she told him.
"Have the police caught the guy that did it?" he asked, a little hesitantly. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I wanted this to be a peaceful evening for you, and I think I've screwed it up."
"No, they haven't caught him yet," Gracie said. "I hadn't thought about that much the last few days. I don't think they have any ideas, everyone's pretty much checked out. It's starting to look like it must've been a stranger. And you
haven't
screwed it up. It's lovely here. Let's put the food in the car and go for a walk."
They discovered the hard way that the creek
was
too cold to wade, but further along the path they came to a small hill with a good view of the sun setting over the lake. They sat in silence enjoying the display, arms around each other's waists. Just as the sun disappeared Kelly leaned over and kissed her.
Gracie slept in on Saturday morning. Last night had been fun in a lot of ways, but this morning she felt antsy, unsure what she wanted to do. When she went in the kitchen to fix breakfast she found a note on the counter from Mom. She was meeting Clay for lunch and a round of golf. Gracie was on her own.
As she ate she found herself thinking about the murder again, going over and over all the pieces in her mind. She
really
didn't want to think that anyone she knew could be a murderer, much easier to think it was a stranger. She suspected that Lieutenant Freeman still thought it might be Clay or Candy or Aunt Jeanine, even if he wasn't saying so. Of everyone,
she
still wasn't convinced of Cindy's alibi.
She put her cereal bowl in the sink and sat down at the computer. She wanted to see how long it would take to drive from the mansion to Dad's house. MapQuest said it took 25 minutes but it insisted on sending you down the highway; that route looked to Gracie like it took you quite a bit out of the way. Surely a more direct route would be faster. When she zoomed in she discovered a lot of the dirt roads she knew to be in the area weren't shown. She X'd out and sat at the desk drumming her fingers in frustration.
What she'd really like to do was drive out there herself to check the distance and driving-time. It was too far to ride her bicycle, and besides it wouldn't give her an accurate time. She'd be willing to use the gas the Escalade would suck down, but Mom was gone. She called Shawna, but she was at the mall and not interested in driving to the boonies. Gracie figured she'd met some guy there and was hoping he'd notice her and ask her out.
The only other person she knew who might let her borrow a car was Bill. She called and he told her she'd have to put gas in it, but she could use it. He was busy grading papers and couldn't pick her up so she rode her bike to his house.
"You wanna go
where
?" Bill asked.
"The Bixby mansion," she replied. "Out by the lake. It's too far to ride my bike."
"Gracie, why do you want to go out
there
? You don't need to see that place, and anyway there's nothing you're going to uncover. The police have been over that area with a fine-tooth comb, I'm sure."
"I'm not going there to get all teary-eyed, if that's what you think," Gracie told him.
"You planning to put flowers on the site?" he asked. "One of those roadside memorials?"
"No, I'm not," she replied. "Nobody would know who it was for, so what's the point?"
"It's not a good idea, kiddo," Bill said, disapproval heavy in his voice. "You
think
you want to see where your father was last alive – but what you'll see is where he died. It's not a good idea."
"Bill, it's not like there'll be a chalk outline in the grass, or a puddle of blood. Seeing the spot where he was killed couldn't be worse than seeing his body in that coffin. I'm sure it'll get to me a little, but I want to test out a theory."
"And what might that be?" Bill asked.
"Cindy's alibi depends on the fact that
someone
answered her phone when Jennifer called about 3:00 that day. But there's no way to tell
who
actually answered, she could've gotten a friend to cover for her. I want to see if she had time to drive to Dad's house and get there by 3:15."
"Wouldn't that mean your step-mother was in on it?" he asked. "Oh, of course. She'd be the perfect suspect, except that she was talking to the cops at the approximate time of the murder. So she gets her girlfriend to do the dirty deed and they set up the call."
"Exactly," Gracie said. "I think they planned it when Dad told everyone about his big presentation. At first I thought Jennifer had set up the burglary as an excuse, but now I'm not exactly sure what they'd planned. They
must
have had
something
in mind, some reason to make that call. Just that the burglary worked out better."
"OK. I still don't think it's a good idea for you to go out there, but I can see you're not going to rest until you convince yourself one way or the other. Be careful, and don't leave any trash in my car!" Bill handed her the keys.
Gracie thanked him, got in the car and started off. She glanced at the gas gauge and remembered he'd ask her to fill up. He hadn't been kidding, the needle was almost on "E". She stopped at a station a couple blocks away. She wasn't used to the brakes and stepped on the pedal a little too hard; the front-end went down and then bounced back up as she let off. Embarrassed, she looked around but the place wasn't busy so maybe no one had seen.
As she got out of the car Gracie noticed a French fry just under the edge of the seat. It must've slid out when she'd done that nose-dive. She tossed it in the trash can and pumped the gas, squeezing as much in as she could. Bill could use it, evidently he'd been biking to work the last few days. When she opened the door to get back in she noticed a cordless drill in the back floorboard. Bill wasn't the handiest guy around, not with power tools anyway. Maybe he'd loaned it to someone and forgotten to take it out of the car. She thought it was odd there wasn't a box of bits, maybe it'd gotten pushed under the seat.
She pulled out of the gas station and headed for the lake. It was a nice day and she was enjoying the drive. It wasn't hot enough to need the air-conditioning, which suited Gracie just fine. She enjoyed feeling the wind blow through the open windows as she sat at stop lights, and besides she knew the A/C used more gas.
Gracie also found herself enjoying the freedom of driving. She hadn't expected that, this was the longest trip she'd made in her short experience of driving. She began to understand that it wasn't just the convenience of going fast while staying out of the weather, but the process itself was enjoyable. She could get used to this! Tears stung her eyes as she remembered her Dad's offer of a new car.
She spotted a Sonic up ahead, decided to pull in and get a soda. Maybe some Jalapeño bites; she'd used a lot of energy riding to Bill's and was hungry. It would give her a chance to settle down, too. She felt a little bad, after all she'd promised Bill she wouldn't cry and she hadn't even gotten to the mansion yet.
She felt better by the time her food arrived. Actually, it felt pretty cool to be sitting in the driver's seat, ordering stuff like she did this all the time. Real grown-up. She watched the cars come and go and the carhops make their rounds as she munched. One of the guys was emptying the trash can near the entrance and the bag split, dumping half-eaten burgers, fries, and greasy paper bags all over the driveway. Half a dozen birds flew in to take advantage of the unexpected banquet. They were city birds, undeterred by the presence of a human; a couple of them darted in to grab a fry before the guy could pick them all up.
She was enjoying herself immensely until some guy in a big pick-up pulled in next to her and left the engine running so he could hear his radio. Not only did the exhaust blowing in her window
stink
, but she didn't like that station. She put her soda in the cup-holder and headed out again.
Gracie got lost a couple of times as she neared her destination, but backtracked to the main road and finally arrived. She hadn't realized there were so many little-used roads out here. The murderer must have either known where he (or she?) was going, or they'd followed Dad. Or, maybe they got lost and that's why they'd had to wait for Dad to leave Bixby's. MapQuest hadn't been any help so whoever it was wouldn't have been able to plan their route in advance unless maybe they'd come out here beforehand. They'd have had all day Sunday and Monday, plenty of time to work it out.
Which was another reason why it couldn't be Aunt Jeanine, Gracie thought. She could get lost in the grocery store she worked in! Cindy was the meticulous sort, though. She
would
check out the route ahead of time, maybe even draw herself a map. Gracie laughed. She could throw the map in the trash at the Sonic and no one would ever find it!
She pulled onto the shoulder in front of the stone walls of the Bixby estate. It was a lovely place. Both the huge house and the fence were built of native stone, and with the tall wrought-iron gate it looked a bit feudal. This close to the lake there were trees everywhere, the driveway was lined with tall oaks so that it almost looked like a tunnel. There was a big stand of firs on either side of the gate.
Gracie's throat suddenly felt tight. The lieutenant said he'd found bicycle tracks into one of those clumps of trees. Had the killer lain in wait for her Dad in one of them? This place was so out-of-the-way it was more likely to have been some boys daring each other to climb over the wall. Some local kids who had nothing better to do than cause mischief, or scare each other silly.
Ahead of her was the driveway where Dad's car had been found. Correction, she thought, Mr. Wilkins' car. There was grass on either side of the drive, and she realized she didn't know which side the body had been found on. There wasn't even any yellow crime scene tape to show her where it had happened. She swallowed with a little difficulty, took a drink of soda to help clear her throat. Bill was right, she didn't need to dwell on this.
She checked her cell phone for the time, then started off. She drove the speed limit all the way back, figuring if the time was close she might fairly safely assume Cindy had been speeding. As she drove she wondered yet again how they might have coordinated things.
Cindy didn't have a cell phone, but maybe she borrowed one from the friend she'd gotten to answer the phone. That would mean Jennifer would have to have borrowed one, too. Otherwise the lieutenant would've found the call on Dad's landline or Jennifer's cell. Or maybe they'd bought a couple of those cheap pay-as-you-go phones. Cindy could've tossed
that
in the trashcan too. It wouldn't really be necessary though, the police wouldn't have thought anything about either of them having a cell when they were investigating a burglary. They could always get rid of them later.
Gracie pulled into Dad's driveway and grabbed her phone to check the time. Thirty-three minutes. Well, so much for that theory. There was just no way Cindy could've gotten here when she did starting from the scene of the murder, not even breaking the speed limit or taking the highway. She drove back to Bill's, insisted on taking him to lunch, and then rode her bike back home.
Mom was still out playing with Clay –
golf
, playing golf with Clay. Gracie checked the mail and found Clarke had left a disc in the mailbox, a copy of the slideshow from the funeral. She let herself in, put her purse in her room, and took her EcoCanteen into the kitchen to wash it out. That done, she stood there for a minute trying to figure out what to do. She was frustrated at having proved her theory wrong, and still a little maudlin at having seen the place where her father had been killed.
Might as well have a pity party, she thought. She walked back to the living room and loaded the disc up on the PC. Idly she watched each picture glide across the screen and fade into the next; Dad as a boy, a teenager, then in college. There were shots of a very young Dad and Mom, followed by family photos with her brothers and eventually herself. Posed photos of Dad receiving awards from work, blurry pictures of him on the golf course or playing poker. And of course the last picture that someone had taken of him grilling steaks only two weeks ago. Snapshots of a man's lifetime.
When the slideshow was finished she went back through it again, this time pausing to look more closely at some of the pictures. The Halloween picture was really cute, and Gracie was (sort of) surprised to realize that baby Jeanine had slipped her little hand into her brother's pumpkin in an apparent effort to get some more candy for herself. She decided she liked the dress Dad's Prom date was wearing, but Dad looked as uncomfortable in his brand-new suit as Justin had the other day. Funny, she'd somehow thought Dad must've
always
worn a suit.
She flipped through a few more pictures and stopped at one of Dad at some fraternity party. All the boys wore formal attire on top but sported garish boxer shorts instead of trousers. The girls seemed to be wearing long nightgowns. Gracie laughed at the silliness of the theme but thought it looked like fun. Dad had on a frilly tux shirt with a black vest over boxers with chubby cherubs aiming their tiny bows at bright red hearts.