“What does Lacy do if Bent Thompson keeps following her?” Kira wanted to know. “Or if he starts following one of us? What’re we supposed to do?”
“We go to the police and report it like any other citizen. We behave as if we’re just like anybody else in this. Outraged, indignant.”
Cassidy didn’t need to worry about that part. The chief of police already knew about the incident.
That was where the conversation died. Cassidy and Melinda didn’t want to discuss it anymore and Kira assented to their wishes. Lacy didn’t see the point in pushing the issue. Cassidy had made up her mind. And, apparently, so had Melinda. Lacy tried her best not to feel betrayed by Melinda’s actions, but she couldn’t help it.
By the time they’d showered and dressed, the chitchat had turned to lighter subjects. Melinda talked on and on about her daughter. She didn’t mention the tense conversation that had taken place between her and Chuckie. The only awkward moment had come when Kira’s cell rang with one call after the other from her fiancé, Brian.
Despite the lingering feelings of betrayal, Lacy did feel somewhat more relaxed when they left the spa. Unfortunately, the slight relief was short-lived.
Although reporters from all over the country had flocked to Ashland, so far they hadn’t run into any real trouble. The police had pretty much kept them away from Melinda’s street and since the group of them hadn’t ventured out that much, there had been no incidents with the media.
But today was apparently going to be a bad one all the way around.
The instant they walked out onto the sidewalk, flash-bulbs started to snap. A reporter, conservatively dressed in a gray suit but with no manners whatsoever, rushed up to Melinda and demanded, “How does it feel to know that the world is finally aware that you killed your husband?”
Cassidy pushed him out of Melinda’s face. “You may direct your questions to Ms. Ashland’s attorney, sir,” she said firmly.
“Still showing your masculine side, are you, Miss Collins?”
Lacy had always been certain she would never live to see anything rattle Cassidy Collins. Cassidy was always cool, under any and all circumstances. But just then, it was as if an old demon, one far too familiar, had burst, full throttle, back into her life. She froze with the impact of it. No matter that alternate lifestyles were accepted every day in other places, the same could not be said here.
“Let’s go, Cass.” Lacy grabbed her by the arm. “We don’t need to listen to this jerk.”
“And what about you, Miss Jackson? Does your fiancé in New York know about your old secret lover here in Ashland?”
The look of utter devastation on Kira’s face made Lacy want to lash out at the damned man.
“I’ve called the police!”
The voice was familiar, but just then Lacy was too damned angry to analyze it.
“Come on, ladies,” the ambitious bastard taunted, “you can’t give me just one sound bite?”
“I’ll give you something,” Lacy snapped. “Go to hell!”
“Miss Oliver, come inside.”
A hand tugged at Lacy. She shifted her attention from the haughty reporter just long enough to identify Renae Rossman attempting to drag her toward a door to a boutique or store of some sort.
“Please,” Renae urged. “All of you, come inside until Chief Summers gets here.”
The reporter shouted another remark or two to their backs but somehow they all managed to get inside the shop without further incident.
“Melinda, are you all right?” Renae practically enveloped Melinda in her arms. “Shall I call Gloria or the senator to come pick you up?”
“No.” With an adamant jerk of her head side to side, Melinda eased away from the woman. “Really, I’m fine. We’re all fine.”
Renae patted her arm as if she hadn’t noticed the way Melinda recoiled from her. “This is precisely why Gloria felt Chelsea would be better protected with her.”
“This is the first time anything like this has happened,” Lacy said, unable to keep a defensive tone out of her voice.
Blue lights throbbed outside and for a moment the conversation inside lulled as they watched Rick chase away the annoying reporter and his cameraman.
When he’d taken care of the nuisance, Rick opened the door just far enough to stick his head inside the shop. “Everyone all right in here?”
Renae moved to the door. “We’re fine now, Chief. Thank you so much for your timely response.”
He and Renae chatted for a moment more, but Lacy was too busy visually examining Rick’s profile to pay decent attention. As he withdrew from the shop entrance his gaze collided with Lacy’s. The draw was so strong, so compelling, it made her ache inside.
She had to find a way to sever the connection, which appeared to be growing stronger every day.
When he’d gone, Renae turned back to them. “Can I get you something to drink, ladies? You look parched.”
No one bothered to say that it might be because they had just spent the better part of an hour in a steamy sauna and then endured the public ridicule of a ruthless media shark.
When their host had guided them to a lovely seating area done in Victorian pinks and whites, she explained, as she served the finest bottled water from the Fiji Mountains, how she came to be the owner and manager of Finer Things.
Since she and Wes, her filthy-rich husband, had never had children, he’d purchased this lovely boutique for her where she sold the finer things, like delicate, decorative women’s handkerchiefs and one-of-a-kind vases, Italian perfume bottles, and handwoven tablecloths. The shop couldn’t get that much business, not in a small town like Ashland, Lacy surmised. She supposed that whether the small business made a profit or not wasn’t the point. Obviously the exclusive shop kept Wes Rossman’s much younger, trophy wife occupied.
As she sat there, Lacy realized that so many of the people she’d known growing up here were not exactly what they’d seemed when she’d admired them as a child. What was it about this place that had nurtured such hidden unpleasantness in so many lives?
Something in the water? She stared at the bottle in her hand. Good thing this came from far, far away. She just wasn’t sure how safe it would be to let anything about the place where she’d grown up get too far beneath her skin.
Chapter 10
L
acy sat in her Explorer in the dark outside her parents’ home. She should go inside—it was past eight already—maybe scrounge up something for dinner.
Rick had been following her again. She’d spotted his truck around town twice after she and the girls had left Finer Things. She’d thought about going back to the library, but she doubted there was anything left to be learned from the archives of Ashland’s only newspaper. Going back to see Mr. Carter again would be pointless.
She’d even thought about attempting to talk to one or all of Pamela Carter’s sisters, but that could be a mistake. The last thing she wanted to do was stir up more tales about the old affair between Pamela and Charles. Melinda didn’t need any more pain in her life. And gossip flew at the speed of light around a place this size.
Approaching Nigel Canton, Charles’s former partner, was out of the question. That left no one on her too-short list. Well, except for Bent Thompson, whom she’d added after what Melinda said about how Chief Taylor had questioned her about him. But even Lacy wasn’t brave enough to approach a man like Thompson alone. Rick had warned her that he was dangerous. She’d gotten a taste of just how intimidating he could be when he’d followed her this morning.
No. She wasn’t stupid. If she intended to look up Bent Thompson, she needed to do so with at least one support person. Backup, so to speak.
Cassidy was with Melinda tonight…that meant Kira was available. Like Lacy, she hadn’t lived in Ashland in so long she didn’t really know anyone to hang out with. Lacy wondered if Kira had stayed away all these years for the same reason she had. She wondered what the journalist had meant when he’d implied Kira had had a secret lover. Maybe, like Lacy, she’d kept a secret of her own.
The only way to find out if Kira was at home and willing to do a little investigating off Cassidy’s radar was to drive to her house and ask her. That wasn’t something Lacy cared to discuss over the telephone. She needed to see Kira’s face during the discussion to really know if she was taking it the way Lacy meant it.
She started her Explorer and backed out of the driveway. No time like the present. Besides, she just wasn’t ready to go in for the night. Not and risk receiving another one of those creepy calls.
Part of her couldn’t help wondering, as did the others, why she was the only one getting the bizarre calls. She refused to believe Rick would stoop to those kinds of methods and apparently Melinda felt the same way.
But who knew?
Who could have been watching them that night?
She heaved a weary breath. Maybe nobody.
The possibility that the caller could be someone hired by Melinda’s in-laws abruptly bobbed to the surface of all the other confusing thoughts churning in Lacy’s head. But why would they call her? The tactic would be much more effective if they called Melinda.
If she gave the Ashlands any credit at all, she would agree with Renae’s steadfast assurance that both Gloria and Charles, Senior, were intensely worried about Melinda and the children, that the two would do anything to put this horrible nightmare behind them. But Lacy had a hard time believing that the Ashlands were worried about anyone but themselves. As they had chatted in Renae’s elegant shop, she’d gone on and on about what fine folks the Ashlands were. She spoke almost reverently of Charles, Senior, and how he’d even been talking about passing on the opportunity to run for vice president because of the painful family tragedy.
Lacy wondered if maybe Gloria should be wary of her beautiful, considerably younger, friend. Maybe one rich old man wasn’t enough for Renae.
Or maybe she’d gotten way too cynical, Lacy mused.
She braked, then eased into the driveway of Kira’s childhood home. The house stood two-and-a-half stories. A grand reproduction of antebellum splendor. Everything about the property, from the prestigious home to the wrought-iron fence and the well-groomed landscape, spoke of money and family pride.
Like Lacy and Cassidy, Kira had never wanted for anything. It felt so strange that the three of them, and even Melinda for the most part despite her family’s financial woes those last two years of high school, could have had so much and still felt compelled to commit a crime so heinous and desperate. She shuddered at the idea.
None of them had been or were alcoholics, drug addicts, or financially troubled at the time of the crime. It just didn’t make sense that they could have made such a tremendous error in judgment, all in the blink of an eye. But they had been young. She had to take that reality into consideration.
Lacy got out of her car and walked slowly up to the sprawling front veranda. She’d told herself over and over not to dwell on what she couldn’t change. Focusing on finding the truth was a far more purposeful use of energy.
But somehow that ugly reality just kept creeping back into her thoughts. Maybe because she ran into Rick every time she turned around, proving Cassidy’s and her theory that he was watching her, had something to do with her inability to stay focused.
Too bad the reality of why he was so interested in her didn’t change the building momentum of her craving for him on a wholly physical level.
Clearly she was on the path of another of those grievous errors in judgment.
Lacy knocked on the door and hoped she wasn’t interrupting a late dinner or maybe a movie.
The door opened right away and Kira’s mother beamed a broad smile the second her eyes told her who the unexpected late-evening arrival was. “Lacy!” She engulfed Lacy in her arms. “It’s wonderful to see you.” Mrs. Jackson drew back. “Won’t you come in?”
Lacy summoned a smile. “It’s good to see you, too, Mrs. Jackson. Is Kira home?”
Her hand fluttered to her cheeks. “Oh, my, this feels like old times.” Then she patted Lacy’s arm. “You girls were always rushing off somewhere. I’m so sorry, but Kira’s out. Would you like me to have her call you when she gets home? You have her cell number, don’t you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind your calling.”
“Sure. I’ll give her a call or catch her later.” Lacy backed up a step. “Thanks, Mrs. Jackson. Have a nice night.”
Kira’s mom waved until Lacy had settled behind the wheel of her car then closed the door, leaving Lacy in near darkness. The decorative lighting around the landscape was subtle, definitely not for security purposes. But that was the norm. Folks in Ashland expected the best out of others, even when they shouldn’t or perhaps didn’t practice the ideal themselves. Lacy dug around in her purse until she found her cell and opened it to punch in Kira’s number, but an arriving vehicle stopped her.
The car didn’t pull fully into the driveway as Lacy had done, instead it remained on the street. Lacy powered down her window in anticipation of Kira’s stride up the driveway. She couldn’t tell who else was in the car, but it wasn’t Kira’s rental. The rented sedan sat in the driveway next to where Lacy had parked.
The passenger-side door of the vehicle opened and Kira got out. Lacy frowned as she watched her friend’s determined stride. She appeared furious or in a hurry to get away from something.
…or someone.
Just when Lacy would have called out to Kira, the driver’s-side door of the car opened and someone else got out. He caught up with Kira about halfway up the driveway. Though the lighting, including that provided by the almost nonexistent moon, was sparse, she could see that it was a man.
Bradley Brewer.
Confusion disabled Lacy’s ability to draw in her next breath. That same confusion kept her focus nailed to the couple standing less than thirty feet from where she sat. She had never been more thankful for her vehicle’s dark blue color. Obviously neither Kira nor Brad had noticed her.
“I’ve waited a long time for you to come back, Kira.” Brad took her by the arms and pulled her closer. “Don’t pretend it never mattered.”
“I have to go.” Kira said the words, but she made no move to pull away from him.
“When I heard you’d gotten engaged…” He looked away a moment. “I almost came up there…I didn’t—”
“My life is in New York now. Nothing you say is going to change that.” Her voice was firmer, her chin held higher.
Lacy listened, somewhere between startled and offended, as the two went on this way for two or three minutes more. She found it funny that her friend didn’t mention her fiancé. And why hadn’t Kira ever told anyone about this situation with Brad? Was he her secret lover from the past? Or maybe she had told the others. Lacy silently railed at herself for going down that paranoid path again. She had to stop thinking the worst of her friends. No one was out to get her. She was still part of the group. Like sisters. They always had been, always would be. Charles’s murder had simply put a strain on their friendship, but they were all here, together, for each other…just like always. Besides, how could she hold this against Kira when she was guilty of such a similar offense?
“You know how I feel, Kira.”
With that, Brad released her and walked away. He had started his car and driven off into the night before Kira moved. Lacy sat there in stunned silence until Kira turned and saw her.
She started slowly toward Lacy’s vehicle then. “Lacy, I didn’t—”
That she fell abruptly silent told Lacy that she’d just realized her exchange with Brad had been overheard.
Lacy got out of her vehicle and closed the door. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Your mother said you weren’t home and I was about to leave when you and…” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I thought we could talk.”
Kira blinked a couple of times and looked as if she wasn’t sure what to do.
The awkwardness lengthened between them and Lacy understood that if she didn’t make a move to break the tension it might not happen. Getting past the issue that Lacy had just overheard a private conversation had to be the first order of business. “I don’t want to do anything behind anyone’s back,” she began hesitantly, “but I really think I need to check out this Bent Thompson guy and I don’t feel quite prepared to do it alone.”
Kira’s uncertainty morphed instantly into a mixture of impatience and irritation. She held up both hands in a signal to stop. “You know what Cassidy said. Anything we do will only draw more attention to us.” She set her hands on her hips then and copped the usual attitude. “Why are you doing this, Lacy? We all know what happened to Charles. If we’re smart, we’ll keep our heads on straight until this investigation dies and then we’ll get on with our lives. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to end up in prison.”
Lacy forced back the words she wanted to toss at her friend. Why didn’t anyone want to know what had really happened? Instead, she took a breath and spoke as reasonably as she could. “I know Cassidy’s right about a lot of things, but this just feels wrong.” She offered her hands, palms up. Why didn’t anyone get it? “We need to find out what really happened. I’m not so sure any of us killed him. I’m beginning to believe—”
“Just stop it!” The harshness of Kira’s words was belied by the unsteadiness of her tone. “I don’t want to talk about this. We all know what happened. We’re all in this together.”
What exactly was she afraid to say? There was something she was leaving out…Lacy could feel it.
“I don’t know what happened,” Lacy threw back at her. “Why don’t you tell me? Do you know who actually killed Charles?” Anger infused her tone, making her come off as hostile rather than desperate and hurt, which was what she really felt.
“You, of all people,” Kira snapped, her own anger overpowering all other emotion, “should know.”
When she would have walked away, Lacy stopped her. “What does that mean?” When Kira faced her once more, Lacy goaded her friend, “Are you insinuating that I killed Charles?”
Kira closed her eyes a moment and drew in a deep breath. When she opened them once more, she said, “We all killed him, Lacy. Equally guilty. Let’s not do this, okay?”
As much as she wanted to stay fired up, to force Kira to say the words, Lacy couldn’t bring herself to do it. Some part of her realized that if she pushed the issue, she and Kira would cross a line into territory from which there was no return. Charles Ashland, Junior, had already cost all of them far more than the bastard was worth.
“Maybe I’m the one who’s wrong,” Lacy admitted. “I guess I can’t get past the guilt.”
Kira placed her left hand on the one clutching her right arm. “Lace, this will eventually be over. All we have to do is stay calm and listen to Cassidy. She knows what’s best for all of us.” She laughed wearily. “She’s the one with the law degree.”
Maybe her friends were right. All she had to do was calm down and ride out this storm. It would pass. As horrific as it was, it would pass.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She hugged Kira. “I guess I just lost my head, what with all these calls and that weirdo following me.” She drew back and smiled for the woman she’d loved since before kindergarten. “We will get through this. Cassidy always knows what’s best.”
Kira hooked her arm in Lacy’s. “Come on. Let’s go see if my mom can still make hot chocolate like she used to.”
That was an offer Lacy couldn’t refuse. Kira’s mom had always made the greatest hot chocolate.
She visited with Kira and her mom for hours, until almost midnight. There was no reason to go home to an empty house. Or to risk getting another one of those calls.
No, the night had been far more pleasant this way, and not once had she mentioned Brad Brewer. Deputy Brad Brewer. Kira didn’t talk about him, either. Just another little secret. Apparently they all had them. Who knew? Lacy had always assumed that they told one another everything, but that was a foolish assumption considering she’d never told anyone about Rick Summers.
Was it really possible to ever know everything about a person?
Maybe not.
But there was one thing Lacy knew for certain. She was finished believing the worst about the people she loved the most. She was through digging into the past in search of things she really didn’t want to know.
She trusted Cassidy. This whole thing would blow over. All she had to do was be patient.