Secrets in a Still Life Page 13

  "Alex," Linc cut me off. "Get to the point."

  "The point. Right. Similarly to how I noticed Missy's, um, leg, originally, something bright in a patch of darkness caught my eye. When I adjusted the settings, it looked like a locket," I explained.

  "So you just decided to go get it? A little Saturday afternoon treasure hunt?" Detective Spaulding's voice had an edge to it now.

  "I, uh, I knew Missy wore a locket because she showed it to me at the salon that day," I explained. Before the detective could ask, I said, "We didn't want to call in the police right away because we weren't sure who it belonged to. It could have been left there forever ago. We wanted to be sure before bothering anyone."

  "And once you realized it was Missy's, you thought bringing it back here was better than leaving it where you found it?" Linc's voice held a similar edge—equal parts sarcasm and disbelief. In hindsight, taking the locket did seem a bit hasty.

  "We weren't really thinking," Colleen admitted. "But Alex took lots of pictures of where we found it."

  "How kind of you," the detective said sarcastically. "Show me."

  I did. I zoomed in on the picture where we thought we saw blood. As soon as he saw it, he called his crime scene guys and asked them to meet him by the reservoir.

  "Wait at the top of the path in the parking lot. I'll meet you there," he said before disconnecting. Then turned his attention back to me. "I'm going to need copies of those photos. Do you happen to have them date and time stamped?"

  "Of course."

  "I'll also need everything you took that day at the reservoir."

  "Every picture? There are over a hundred. Some of them aren't very good." I hated showing people my raw images. Even those I submitted as a photojournalist still had a bit of color correction and contrast adjustments.

  "Every picture, Ms. Lightwood," he repeated. Uh-oh, we were back to Ms. Lightwood.

  "If you wait a moment, I can put them all on a thumb drive for you now."

  "That would be great. Bring your computer out here so I can be a witness to the chain of evidence."

  I swallowed. "Chain of evidence" sounded terrible. I had been trying to help myself, but now I was in even more trouble. I took my time walking to my bedroom to gather my laptop and the extra thumb drive. I wanted a moment to collect and bottle my emotions.

  "What were you thinking?" Linc's low growl behind me made me jump and squeal. He grabbed my elbow and spun me around to face him.

  "Cheese and crackers, you scared me. I should get you a bell," I said, willing my heartbeat to slow.

  "Answer me. Why would you go looking for evidence?" he asked. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them. Like the sky before a storm.

  "We were just trying to help. Like I said, I didn't want to feel like an idiot if it turned out to be nothing," I repeated.

  "Not a great idea, Alex. You seem to keep forgetting this is a small town. And there are very few secrets in small towns. Word is going to get out that you're poking into this," he explained.

  "So?" What was the big deal?

  "So, there is still a murderer out there." His voice had gotten louder, and we heard conversation stop in the other room. He took a deep breath and backed away from me a step before continuing. "If they feel like you're getting too close, they could come after you next."

  The color drained from my face. I hadn't thought of that. Still, I hated being treated like a child.

  "It was the middle of the day. I had Colleen with me. We weren't in danger."

  "Great." He threw up his hands. "A pixie-sized photographer with a bum ankle and a preschool teacher with hair you can see from space. Quite the menacing duo."

  I narrowed my eyes at him and poked a finger into his chest. "I have survived just fine on my own for the last decade in places much more dangerous than Piney Ridge. And I don't need your guilt trip. I already feel bad enough for not leaving that locket where we found it." I grabbed my laptop off the bed and elbowed past him.

  "Dammit, Alex," I heard him say behind me. I didn't stop moving.

  Detective Spaulding asked Colleen questions while Nana K sipped on a lemonade, looking amused. I set up the laptop on the kitchen counter and began transferring the images from my camera to the thumb drive. As they loaded, I scrolled through the folder with the reservoir pictures to take out any that were completely out of focus. I had a little bit of dignity left.

  "Tampering with evidence aside," Detective Spaulding said, leaning over my shoulder as I worked, "these photos are really great. I love the ones by the water."

  "It's really hard to mess up something as beautiful as the reservoir," I said, diminishing his compliment. "I just shoot what I see."

  "You have a very good eye. I would have never thought to get down on eye level with the rocks."

  "I guess laziness pays off sometimes," I joked. When the last picture transferred, I removed the thumb drive and handed it to him. "If you need explanations of where any were taken or whatever, just ask."

  He looked from me to Colleen and back again. "Tampering with evidence is serious. How do we know you didn't plant this necklace?" He held up a hand before we could protest. "I might be crazy, but I believe your story. For now," he added ominously. He checked his watch. "I've got to go meet the crime scene crew."

  He walked to the couch to address Nana K. "Ms. Klafke-Klafken-Klafski—" he tried.

  She laughed and interrupted, "It's pronounced Klahf-ken-ev-ski. Everyone calls me Nana K. You, my darling, can call me whatever you want, just don't call me late for cocktails."

  "Okay, Ms. K," he said, smiling. "It was really great to meet you. Try to keep your granddaughter out of trouble."

  "Usually it's the other way around," I murmured.

  Detective Spaulding made his farewells to Colleen and Linc—a warning to stay away from evidence for Colleen and a stiff handshake for Linc.

  "Detective Spaulding?" I asked as we walked to the door. "We thought maybe Missy was killed by the water and then dragged into the brush. We looked around but couldn't really see any drag marks or anything."

  He rubbed a hand over his face. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but I think you need to know. It'll be in the papers soon enough anyway. She was dragged. We noticed mud on her heels and disturbed brush the night we discovered her. By finding this necklace, you might have helped us pinpoint the actual murder spot." He opened the door to leave, then turned and added. "You shouldn't be looking into this on your own. Next time you even think you find evidence, call me first. Your boyfriend was right about that."

  I nodded but felt compelled to add, "Linc isn't my boyfriend. We knew each other in high school."

  We turned to look back toward the kitchen where Linc paced back and forth with a scowl on his face. He ran a hand through his hair when he caught us looking his way.

  "Huh," Detective Spaulding said. "Well then, he has some major big-brother issues happening where you're concerned."

  "It's because I'm so short. People feel like they have to treat me like a child."

  He looked down at me with his green eyes glowing. "Ms. Lightwood, you are anything but a child."

  Then he left. Dazed, I wandered back to the kitchen. What did that even mean? If I didn't know better, I'd have thought he was flirting. But that was ridiculous since he totally thought I was a murderer.

  "I don't like the way he looked at you," Linc said. "Like a predator."

  "He is hunting a killer. And I keep putting myself in the crosshairs," I said, falling onto the couch beside Nana K. Without asking, Linc got me a bag of ice for my ankle. Ever the EMT. Although this time he handed it to me instead of applying it himself. He must really be angry.

  "What did he say to you?" Colleen asked.

  "He told me our assumptions were right," I said. "She was dragged." I frowned, realization dawning. "Would that eliminate Mike? Couldn't he carry her?"

  "Maybe," Linc said. "Unless he was trying to hide her and not take her out of the forest comp
letely. But," he added, holding up a finger when my eyes lit up, "I managed to drop Crystal's alibi into conversation with my nosiest neighbor. She confirmed Mike's car was parked in front of Crystal's house all day."

  "Well, poo. Two suspects essentially crossed off the short list. Now I really need to talk to Becky and her ex-husband," I said, already forgetting the detective's warning to stay out of it.

  Linc opened his mouth to undoubtedly remind me of that warning when Nana K piped up for the first time since the revelation of the locket. "In my experience, I find that people are often willing to let their guard down more around unassuming citizens and old ladies than the police. And there is no harm in being friendly and talking to folks. That's what we do in small towns."

  "You aren't helping, Nana K," Linc said. "It isn't safe for Alex to be snooping around. For any of you to be."

  "Talking, not snooping. You need to change your mindset," Nana K clarified.

  "Unbelievable," Linc said, running his hands through his hair again.

  "Okay. How about a compromise?" I said, trying to keep him from blowing a blood vessel. "You can be the one to ask Becky a few questions on Monday. I won't even open my mouth except in terms of the shoot."

  He gave me a long look. "You aren't going to let this go, are you?" he finally asked.

  I shook my head. "I can't."

  "Fine. Not one word from you even if you think I'm not doing it right."

  I mimed locking my lips with a key and throwing it over my shoulder.

  "Sit down and have some chicken, Linc," Nana K said. "You're making us all nervous with your pacing."

  He followed orders and sat on the other side of Nana K on the couch.

  I tried to lighten the mood. "You'll never believe what Detective Spaulding said by the door."

  "That he wants to show you how else he can use handcuffs?" Linc mumbled.

  "What? Don't be ridiculous."

  Nana K guessed, "That he wants to marry me and make my final years heaven on earth?"

  "Not quite," I said, laughing. "He thought Linc was my boyfriend. Isn't that silly?"

  Linc stood up from the couch abruptly. "Silly. Right." He stomped toward the door. "See you on Monday at the firehouse, Alex. Stay out of trouble until then. Fang, come."

  The frame rattled as he slammed out the door. So much for lightening the mood.

  "What was that all about?" I asked.

  Colleen shrugged and heaped another scoop of coleslaw on her plate. Nana K sat back on the couch with a bemused smile on her face.

  Chapter 21

  An obnoxious noise woke me out of a difficult dream. I reached over to silence my phone alarm, but no amount of button smashing would stop the intermittent noise. Groaning, I rubbed at my eyes. I had a moment of panic when I opened them in a strange room before remembering I was in the loft at the orchard. I glanced at the time on my phone and nearly fell out of bed. Six thirty in the morning. On a Sunday. I hadn't been awake this early on the weekend since my mother made me attend early morning Mass at St. Joseph's.

  So, if the noise wasn't coming from my phone, where was it coming from? I went to the window to look outside. Below me a flock of chickens pecked around by my steps. As I watched, one particularly fluffy one stretched his neck and crowed. I'd found the source of my impromptu alarm clock—a rooster.

  "Well, Lash," I said to my fish on the dresser beside me. "I guess farm animals are the trade-off for the amazing price of this place."

  As I dropped some fish flakes into Lash's bowl, I added earplugs to my mental shopping list. A list growing exponentially each moment. A list I should probably consider transferring to a note in my phone so I didn't forget anything.

  I shuffled into the kitchen to find some breakfast.

  "Thank you, Mom, for knowing me so well," I said, as I pulled a box of sugary cereal from the cabinet. Maybe the sugar would wake me up a little and help me shake off my dream.

  In it I was stuck in a room with Linc, Detective Spaulding, and Rick. Linc and the detective each pulled on one of my arms. Linc, with his stormy-gray eyes and adorable grin, kept reminding me of the kiss we shared in his truck in high school. Detective Spaulding, with his sharp, green eyes and intriguing scar, told me over and over that I was anything but a child. Wreck-it Rick stood in the background laughing his head off. I didn't need Freud to help me figure out what that meant. What bothered me was why I dreamt about these men at all. I wanted nothing to do with the opposite sex. At least not in a romantic way. Rick had ruined that for me for a while.

  Not that it mattered. Neither of those handsome alpha males would give an awkward pipsqueak like me a second glance in real life.

  To take my mind off it, I contemplated a way to talk to Becky's ex-husband, Danny, without being so obvious. And to figure out where Danny lived.

  Begrudgingly, I called my mother.

  An hour later, I had showered in the beautifully tiled bathroom, all the while pretending I was at a spa, and slapped on some light makeup, mainly to hide the bags under my eyes from lack of sleep. I put on my least-threadbare cargo pants and an unwrinkled T-shirt. For once I left my hair down around my shoulders instead of pulling it up into a messy bun on top of my head. I was headed to the Ladies' Auxiliary Sunday luncheon. My mother would be here to pick me up in ten minutes. Just enough time to pack my go bag of camera essentials—I never went anywhere without it—and head down the steps to meet her.

  When I opened the loft door, a tan-colored chicken stood at the top of the steps as though waiting for me. It cocked its little head to one side and looked up at me.

  "Well, hello, there. How'd you get up here?"

  The chicken made a little coo sound in its throat and looked at me with the other eye.

  "Okay, then. Don't poop on the steps, please," I scooted around it to descend. I guessed I'd have to get used to having farm animals visit.

  My mother pulled up a moment later, scoffed a little at my outfit without saying anything, and zipped us off to the luncheon.

  Mom reintroduced me to her friends—it had been several years since I'd seen any of them. Noticeably missing was Laura Poledark, Missy's mother. A fact that didn't go unnoticed by the other women either.

  "Poor Laura. She can't bring herself to get out of the house yet," Judy Gosling clucked.

  "And poor Jodie too. The sisters were really close. I mean, Missy practically raised her since Laura was always busy with her charities and... things," Anne Fletcher added. Everyone knew "and things" meant getting drunk on cheap wine and passing out on whatever barstool she found herself on.

  "Not to mention Michael Junior and Patsy," my mother said, mentioning Missy's kids. All the women made affirming noises and shook their heads as they passed the pitcher of mimosas around the table.

  "I'm going to take Laura a casserole," Anne said definitively. Everyone agreed that would be a wonderful idea. They made a schedule to feed both Laura and Mike and the kids.

  Slowly, their conversation moved to the actual murder. It was the most exciting thing to happen in Piney Ridge, and everyone felt like they had some sort of personal connection to the crime. I sat back and listened intently. Most of the women regurgitated what had been printed in the paper. Others spouted theories and gossip. Most thought Mike did it.

  When it seemed like they weren't going to talk about Missy's infidelity, I tried to steer the conversation that way. "I heard Missy was having an affair as well."

  "Oh, yes. With Daniel Tidwell. But that ended a while ago," Anne Fletcher said.

  "Didn't it break up the Tidwell's marriage?" I made sure to repeat the surname so I would remember it later.

  "Yes. But honestly those poor kids were heading for divorce anyway, in my opinion," Victoria Munhouse chimed in.

  "I heard that too," Anne confirmed. "They had a pregnancy scare a few years ago that had them get hitched in the first place. When that turned out to be a false alarm, the marriage seemed doomed. Becky tried to make it work for a while. But whe
n you trick a man into marrying you like that, the trust is never going to be there."

  "I saw her coming out of Wyatt Fielding's office about a month before she found out about Missy," Victoria said.

  "Who's Wyatt Fielding?" I asked.

  "He's a lawyer. Specializes in divorces," my mother explained.

  "But I heard she and Danny had a huge blowout when she found out about Missy. That's why Danny isn't doing the first-responder calendar this year."

  "No calendar?" Anne asked. "What a shame. I love that calendar. Mainly for the animals, of course."

  Mom huffed. She leaned in and whispered in my ear. "Animals, my dupa. She has her calendar set perpetually to August. I'll give you two guesses whose month that is."

  I only needed one. "Linc?" Mom nodded. I grinned.

  "I'm doing the photo shoot this year. You’ll still get a calendar. Although it might look a little different. I think Danny and I have different styles," I explained. The ladies let out a collective sigh of relief.

  "How wonderful," Victoria commented. "It'll be nice to have a change of style. They were getting a bit redundant over the last few years."

  "I'm guessing Becky and Danny aren't still married? Linc indicated he wasn't welcome anywhere near the firehouse," I said.

  "Nope. Becky got the house. Danny tucked his tail back to his parents' house. When Becky kicked him out, he lost her and Missy," Anne said.

  "That's right." Mom laughed. "Nothing puts out a flame like moving back in with Mommy and Daddy. No offense, Peanut," she added for my benefit.

  I rolled my eyes. "I managed to move out in less than a month," I reminded her. "What's taking Danny so long?"

  "Lack of motivation. He likes having women take care of him," Victoria said. The ladies chuckled. Then the conversation moved to all the ways they cared for their husbands.

  I tuned out to process the information I learned. If these ladies were correct, Becky didn't really have a motive to kill Missy. They were headed toward divorce well before she knew about the affair. And the affair ended months ago. I felt a little better about my compromise with Linc. It didn't matter what he asked her; my gut told me it wasn't her. That would be a dish of revenge served very cold.