Chapter Seven
Hope spent the rest of the day on pins and needles, waiting to hear something, anything, about Devon. Because there were no incoming calls about her friend, she made some of her own.
Her first call was to Detective Reid. Nothing new there. The next call was to Devon’s sister. Felice sounded upset and worried. She hadn’t heard from her sister since move-in day. After Hope hung up, she had one more question added to her long list: if Felice hadn’t spoken to her sister in two days, who had Devon been arguing with on the phone last night? Hope’s final call before she dashed out to the library was to Claire to check if Devon had returned home. She hadn’t.
Hope arrived at the library fifteen minutes before class was supposed to start. She used the time to set up and mentally prepare. All thoughts of Devon needed to be put on the back burner. At least until after class.
Her students arrived and took their seats.
She did a quick head count. They all came back.
Plus one.
What on earth was she doing there?
Elaine strutted to the front of the class in her knee-high boots. How she had navigated the slick patches of ice in those four-inch heels baffled Hope. Didn’t the woman own any sensible winter shoes? Hope glanced at her sturdy black ankle boots designed for real life, not runways.
“What are you doing here?” Hope asked, dragging her gaze upward.
Elaine unbuttoned her faux fur jacket and revealed her form-fitting red sweater. The woman had curves, and she knew how to use them to her full advantage. Hence, her four husbands.
“I figured because I had to cut my vacation short, I might as well learn about blogging.” She scanned the two tables where the other students had settled. “Where should I sit?”
“Registration is full,” Hope said.
Elaine blinked, giving Hope full view of her expertly applied eye makeup. From the skilled application of winged eyeliner, to the depths of a smoky eye, to lush false lashes, Hope couldn’t fathom the time spent. She barely had time to apply one coat of mascara.
“No worries. I worked it out with Angela. I’m auditing the class.”
“Auditing? This isn’t a college course.”
“Of course not, silly. Ooh, there’s a seat.” Elaine sashayed away to a seat next to Phillip Rafferty, who looked pleased to have her next to him. But his look quickly changed when she gave him a cold glare that had back-off written all over it.
Elaine took off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. Next, she pulled out a notebook from her designer bag.
“Don’t you like to start class on time?” Elaine tapped her blinged-out watch.
Hope heaved a heavy sigh. It would be a long class.
“The assignments you all turned in were great.” Hope moved back to her laptop. Before the class, each student had emailed their completed assignment for her to review. She wasn’t grading; there were no passes or fails. Though she did provide feedback to them.
She forced herself to stop staring at the newest edition to the class and dwelling on how long class would be. When her gaze moved from Elaine, she saw Laila beaming. Her assignment had been the most thorough. It was clear that Laila wanted more out of life than whipping up cappuccinos every morning for tired customers. Hope continued scanning the class. Gail’s chapped lips curved up into a satisfied smile. Her assignment was light on detail, but Hope could see her student had a clear vision of her blog. Two seats over was Shirley. She didn’t look pleased. Hope was puzzled because Shirley had turned in a solid assignment.
Hope absorbed the excitement that bounced off her students. As any long-time blogger would tell you, it was easy to get caught up in all the minutiae and lose sight of what first attracted them to blogging. Seeing the activity through the eyes of newbies was invigorating. Their enthusiasm was refreshing.
“Tonight we’ll cover how to design your blog. For this, we’ll be working on the back end. I expect this will be our most intense class. But trust me when I say it’s important for you to understand how it works behind the scenes.”
Elaine raised her hand. “Do you think I could get a private lesson to cover what I’ve missed so far?”
Hope cleared her throat. “We can work something out. Now, back to what I was saying about designing your blog.” She wasn’t a website designer, but she believed for any blogger to be successful, she should be able to do simple tasks on her blog without having to pay a designer.
She tapped a key on her laptop’s keyboard and an image of the website’s dashboard came up on the screen, and as she expected, confused looks appeared on everyone’s face.
“This is the dashboard. It’s not as scary as it looks.” She scanned the class. Her words had fallen on deaf ears from the collective puzzled looks on their faces. She was losing them.
Quick, say something. Now.
“This is where you will spend most of your time as a blogger. Remember what I told you about blogging not being glamorous? Well, here’s why.” She gave a little laugh, and the class joined in. Feeling more relaxed, she continued with the lesson.
By the end of the class, there were a lot of glazed eyeballs, but to their credit, each student was still enthusiastic and eager to work on the new assignment—ten ideas and outline the first two posts.
All in all, the session could have turned out worse. At least no one was racing to the door.
She was thankful they kept her mind off Devon. She did a quick check of her phone. Still no update. Not even from Ethan.
He’d been in and out of meetings all day. Then he had a retirement dinner to attend for the police chief in the next town over.
“Well, that was a lot of information to take in.” Shirley stopped at Hope’s table.
Hope looked up from her phone and then set it down.
“I promise, it’s not too bad once you start using your website. Do you have a minute?” Hope had been churning over Devon’s theory that her father had been unfaithful to her mother at the time of the disappearance. Maybe Shirley could shed some light on it.
“I suppose so. What’s up?” Shirley set her purse on the table.
“You were friends with Joyce. Did she ever confide in you that she suspected her husband was having an affair?” Hope asked in a low voice as the last of the students left the room.
“Why are you asking?” Shirley’s thin lips clamped down and her gaze narrowed, signaling to Hope their conversation would not be pleasant.
It wouldn’t be the first unpleasant conversation she’d had. There was the divorce conversation with her ex-husband, the time she had to explain to Detective Reid why she trespassed onto a crime scene, and the chats she had with killers when she got into their crosshairs. So, Shirley’s warning look didn’t have the impact she’d expected it would have on Hope.
“Devon said she believes her father was having an affair.”
“I can’t believe she’d say such a thing! Outrageous! I’m surprised you’d be repeating such nonsense.” When the look didn’t work on Hope, Shirley raised her voice, prompting the last of the students walking out the door to look over their shoulders.
Hope gestured to them that everything was okay and then turned back to Shirley. “Devon doesn’t believe it’s nonsense. If she did, I doubt she’d say it publicly.”
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it does no one any good to dig up the past. My goodness, Greg’s not here to defend himself. Talk about unfair.”
“Don’t you think what happened to Joyce was unfair?” Hope countered.
“You have a reputation of stirring up hornets’ nests, and I strongly suggest you stay out of the Markhams’ business.” Shirley yanked up her purse and stormed out, passing by Gail, who was reentering the room.
Gail gave Hope a curious look and then pointed to her seat. “I forgot my notebook.”
“She’s right about you having a thing for stirring up hornets’ nests.” Elaine approached the table. “Like you did when my sweet Lionel was murdered. But I know you can’t help yourself.” She tilted her head sideways and smiled. Though the smile didn’t feel sincere to Hope.
“Is Shirley okay?” Gail, with her notebook in hand, joined Hope and Elaine.
“I’m not sure.” Hope grabbed her coat. What she was sure about was that Shirley wasn’t behaving like her usually perky self. She always had a sunny disposition, like her daughter, Amy. It didn’t take an experienced detective like Sam Reid to realize there was something about Joyce’s disappearance that Shirley didn’t want to discuss.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her storm out of anywhere.” Gail shoved her notebook into her tote bag.
“Hope can have that effect on people. Though she means well,” Elaine said.
Hope bristled at being spoken about as if she wasn’t even there. “We should get going.” Her tone was sharp and her patience short.
“Are you feeling a little tired? Ethan says you’re working so much. You know, I have a concealer that will work wonders for your under eyes.” Elaine dug into her purse and pulled out a small tube. “Try this. It’s a lifesaver. Especially these days. There’s so much to do, settling into my new house.”
“New house?” Gail asked.
“I found a rental I love. It has an option to buy. So I’m giving it a test drive, so to speak.” Elaine looked at Hope. “Ethan was so kind as to help me with my alarm system.”
“I’m sure helping you fill out the paperwork to register the system wasn’t too much for him to do.” Hope eyed the concealer. Did she really have dark circles under her eyes?
“Oh, he did way more than that.” Elaine gave a breathy laugh as she handed the tube of concealer to Hope. “He helped me with the system. I got all flustered with how to use it. He showed me how to do it just right. The man is a wonderful teacher. Toodles!” She waved as she sashayed out of the room. That was how Elaine went through life—sashaying and batting her false lashes.
“She’s a piece of work,” Gail observed.
She most certainly is.
When had Ethan gone to Elaine’s house? Why hadn’t he told Hope? It wasn’t like house calls to set up alarms were a part of his job description. She tamped down her irritation with both Ethan and Elaine.
“Anyway, it was a great class. I’m looking forward to brainstorming post ideas,” Gail said before she walked out of the room.
Hope shrugged into her coat after she gathered all her papers into her tote along with her laptop. With all her belongings plus the tube of concealer, she walked to the doorway. Before she left the room, she looked back at where Shirley sat during class.
A niggling feeling reinforced her suspicion that Shirley was hiding something.
* * *
The next morning, Hope’s alarm went off, but all she wanted to do was pull the covers over her head. She reasoned she didn’t have the oomph she needed to get up and head out for her run. Then a little voice in the far recesses of her mind reminded her of all the indulgences she enjoyed over the holiday season. While the holidays were long over, the aftereffects still lingered on her hips. Plus, a ramped-up schedule of recipe-testing had also tilted the scale in the direction she didn’t like.
Adjusting her reflective headband over her ears, she prepared herself for a long, grueling run thanks to a lack of sleep and it being freakin’ cold outside. After she tied her sneakers, she patted Bigelow on the head. He’d stayed curled up on her bed, sleeping. He never seemed to have restless nights.
Passing through the downstairs to the mudroom, she found Princess curled up on a chair in the family room. It was hard to imagine her as the wild child she was a few months ago. She looked so peaceful and angelic. They grew up so fast.
Hope packed her waist belt with her bare necessities and pulled open the back door and was greeted by a slap of cold air. Walking to the road, she turned on her playlist, then picked up her pace.
She’d thought her morning run would snap her out of her sleep-deprived fog. It had. During the three-mile run, she was anything but sleepy thanks to the frigid February air. The best part about running in the winter months was, her speed increased because she was freezing her glutes off. But an hour later, seated across from Jane in The Coffee Clique, her eyelids were heavy, and her yawns were increasing.
Hope tried to fight it, but she was powerless against it. She covered her mouth with her hand as she yawned again.
“Didn’t sleep well, dear?” Jane asked before she broke off a piece of her glazed apple walnut muffin. She’d called Hope midway through her run and suggested they meet at the coffee shop.
The idea had perked Hope up. A hazelnut coffee would be the perfect reward for finishing her workout. Without hesitation, Hope said she’d be there. With a prize at the end of her run, she had dug deep into her reserves to power through and arrived at The Coffee Clique right after Jane had.
Hope suppressed another yawn as she nodded. Too bad The Coffee Clique didn’t have a megasize coffee cup. The large she ordered just wasn’t doing it for her. She needed another one. Or two.
“I kept tossing and turning all night.” Between worrying about Devon, being annoyed by Elaine barging into her class, Ethan’s secret visit to the widow’s house, and dreading having to talk to Iva about the missing bracelet, Hope’s mind had raced a mile a minute once she’d lain her head down on the pillow.
Her bed was normally her sanctuary. While she saved money where she could in her house remodel, she splurged on her bedding. She indulged in cloud-soft pillows and luxurious linens, including a down comforter that had an eye-popping price tag. She spent long hours every day on her feet, either recipe testing or working on some DIY project around the old farmhouse, and when it came time to sleep, she wanted to be cocooned in comfort.
Too bad her sleep cycle didn’t get the memo that she was supposed to be relaxing and dreaming about kittens overnight, not fretting about everything that happened the day before.
“Still no word about Devon?” Jane wiped her mouth with a napkin and then set it down on the table. She wore a lavender-colored scarf tied around her neck and a matching hat. Her red wool jacket was draped over the back of her chair.
“No. Ethan texted me after he got back from the retirement party. There wasn’t any news.” Hope chugged her coffee. When she received the text, she was tempted to ask about Elaine’s alarm system, but she resisted. The conversation should happen face-to-face. She kept her thoughts from spiraling out of control because she knew the kind of man he was. They’d known each other since high school. Ethan was a straight-up guy who didn’t cheat on his significant other or his taxes. But she’d been married to a man who did, and the experience had left her wary.
“It feels like her mother all over again. One day she’s there and the next she’s not.”
Those haunting words had Hope’s thoughts shift from Ethan back to Devon. She knew her relationship with him was solid. Nothing to worry about. But Devon? There was a lot to worry about there.
“I’m glad you called because I wanted to ask about Shirley. You’ve known her for a long time, haven’t you?”
“I have. Though we aren’t close friends. Amy was in one of my reading groups at the library. Shirley would stop and chat when she picked Amy up.” Jane sipped her tea. Yes, she was more refined than Hope was.
“Why are you asking?” Jane asked.
“Last night she got all weird when I asked her about Devon’s claim that her dad was having an affair. She made it clear no one, not even Devon, should dig up the past.” Hope went back to drinking her coffee like a normal person. Setting down the cup, she caught a glimpse of the pastries.
“Well, I doubt Shirley would have been eager to talk about something so private even if Devon was shouting it all over the internet with her podcast.” Jane’s blue eyes, generally filled with curiosity and warmth, turned serious and changed the whole demeanor of her rounded face. “It’s not in Shirley’s nature to discuss such matters.”
“I understand, but you’d think if she and Joyce were such good friends, she’d want to find out what happened. Wouldn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you what?” Drew approached the table holding a tall coffee cup and a plated bagel smeared with cream cheese. His messenger bag was slung crossbody over his navy jacket. He set his breakfast on the table and removed his bag, then sat.
“We’re talking about Shirley’s lack of interest in finding out what happened to Joyce.” Jane finished the last piece of her muffin.
“How could she not be interested? Weren’t they like best friends back in the day?” Drew bit into half of his bagel with a vengeance. Hope guessed he’d hit the gym already and worked up an appetite.
“Believe me when I tell you, she was adamant last night that what happened in the past should stay in the past.” Hope lifted her cup and leaned back. “If it were me and one of you disappeared, I’d want to know what happened.”
“Thank you, dear. I appreciate knowing you’d move heaven and earth to solve my disappearance.” Jane finished her tea.
“Yeah, right back at you, Hope. On a different matter, have you heard Elaine’s back in town?” Drew asked between bites.
Hope nodded. “I saw her the other day at the police department and last night at the library. She’s auditing my class.”
Drew gave her a confused look. “Really, for an adult education class? Does she even know what the word means?”
Jane laughed. “Don’t be too harsh on her. She lost her husband a few months ago, and her life was turned upside down.”
“It feels like wherever she goes, things get turned upside down. She wants me to give her a private lesson so she can catch up with the other students.” Hope took a breath. She didn’t want to talk about Elaine anymore. Except with Ethan. Definitely with Ethan.
“Moving on. Have you heard about Maretta’s bright idea?” Drew asked with a touch of sarcasm after he took a drink of his coffee.
Hope and Jane glanced at each other and then shook their heads in unison. Jane’s wispy bangs fluttered.
“In her infinite wisdom, she’s decided to move forward with her proposal to ban snowball throwing. And the police paid Billy Murphy’s parents a visit.”
“Absurd. Children love snowball fights,” Jane said.
“I can’t believe the police spoke to his parents. He and his friends weren’t being malicious. I was there.” They didn’t need a visit from the police, just a reminder not to throw snowballs at people who weren’t playing along. Hope pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and checked her messages. None from Ethan or Claire or Reid. And where the heck was Devon?
“Can she really ban throwing snowballs?” Jane asked.
“She has to go through the Town Council. They’ll do just about anything not to have to deal with her. I have a feeling her mayoral term is going to feel like forever for all of us.” Drew took another bite of his bagel.
“My thought exactly on election day.” Hope drained the last of her coffee and seriously considered a refill. She had a feeling she’d be testing how much caffeine she could ingest before becoming too jittery.
“The one good thing about Maretta being the mayor is that the Town Council meetings are now a lot more interesting. The last one had—” Drew was cut off by the chime of his cell phone. He retrieved it from his messenger bag and read the screen. “Oh. My. Gosh.”
“What? What is it?” Hope leaned forward.
“They found Devon’s car in a ditch off Hargate Hill Road.” Drew didn’t look up; he kept reading.
“Who says?” Jane asked.
Drew finally looked up. “My source.”
“Who’s your source?” Hope asked.
Drew returned his phone to his bag. “Does it matter? The police are on scene. I gotta go.” He stood, slung his bag across his body, and gathered up what was left of his breakfast.
“I’m going with you. I’ll call you later, Jane.” Hope rose to her feet, grabbed her coffee cup, and ditched it in the trash can as she followed Drew to the exit.
“You understand I’ll be gathering info, so you’ll be on your own while we’re at the scene.” Drew held the door open for Hope.
“Got it.”
They walked to Drew’s sports car. It wasn’t the most practical vehicle for winter months in Connecticut, but it sure was sleek, and the way it drove made her swoon. And that’s why she drove an SUV.
“Did your source say anything about Devon?” Hope snapped the seat belt buckle into place.
Drew glanced at his side mirror and then pulled his car out of the parking space and headed north on Main Street. “No.”
“Where on Hargate Hill did they find the car?”
“Past Swamp Hollow.”
Hope winced. She knew the spot well. It was an isolated stretch of road with a sharp curve. Beautiful in three seasons of the year and treacherous in the winter.
Several turns and ten minutes later, they were on Hargate Hill Road. She glanced at Drew. He’d drawn silent. She sensed he was keeping something from her. Something his source had shared with him, but he didn’t want to share with her.
The stillness of the cold air blanketed the hilly landscape as the morning sun struggled to break through the thick patch of clouds above, ice glazed over the jagged edges of the rocky wall they drove by, and snow weighed down the limbs of the bare trees. They were getting closer to Swamp Hollow Road when the tires of Drew’s car did a little hula dance. Instinctively, Hope’s hands reached out for the dashboard and pressed hard as she looked to Drew.
“Just a little slip. Nothing to worry about.” He pulled the steering wheel back and regained control. “Up ahead.”
Hope nodded. The crime scene was coming into view. Among the various rescue vehicles was Hank Padgett’s tow truck.
“Hank’s your source, isn’t he?”
“Maybe.” Drew parked his car on a small patch of packed-down snow. The spot also made sure his vehicle wouldn’t be in the way. “I can leave the car running so you’ll stay warm.” His finger hovered over the Start button.
“You really think I’m going to stay in here?” She opened the door and stepped out. The frigid air gave her pause to reconsider Drew’s offer.
“You’re not dressed for the elements or terrain in your running shoes. Be careful! We don’t need another rescue!” Drew closed the door and walked toward the scene. His stride was fast and confident. He was in his glory. Being first on the scene, getting an exclusive, doing what he loved. She’d asked him countless times why he chose to stay at the Gazette when he had the talent and skill for a larger publication. He always said the same thing: he loved Jefferson and didn’t want to live anywhere else.
The one big downside to living and reporting in a small town was, eventually the big news of the day would be about a friend, neighbor, or relative.
Like today.
Devon was the story.
A man’s voice shouting instructions distracted Hope from thinking about the possibility that Devon was in the car when it went off the road and didn’t survive the accident.
She couldn’t think like that. At least not yet.
She came around to the front of Drew’s car and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. A pit of coldness settled in her stomach. It wasn’t the kind of coldness that could be warmed up, like adding another layer to her jacket. No, the coldness inside her just sat there, expanding with every minute that passed, and it hurt.
The strobe lights on the rescue vehicles lit up the gray morning, and the constant sounds of radios squawking with what sounded like garbled conversations disturbed the usual quietness of the wooded area.
“Come on! Keep moving!” A uniformed police officer, bundled up in layers and a thick hat, directed traffic on the now one-lane road. The cars passing by moved at a slow speed so the drivers could get a glimpse of what was happening. Human nature at its finest.
Amid the controlled chaos of the scene, Hope spotted Drew walking back toward her, and Ethan was beside him.
Ethan’s jaw was set and his shoulders were squared. He was in full cop mode. If Hope didn’t know better, she would have been nervous.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Ouch. He was channeling Detective Reid.
She tried not to take his abruptness or tone personally. He was the police chief and on the scene of an accident. He didn’t have time for chitchat. Not even a simple hello to his girlfriend.
“I was with Drew when he got the tip someone found Devon’s car.” She raised to her tippy toes to see over Ethan’s shoulders. He was blocking her view of the scene.
“Why did you bring her?” Ethan asked Drew.
“Do you really think I could have stopped her?” He gave Hope a double take and shrugged as he mouthed, Sorry. He looked back at Ethan. “Who found the car?” He had his cell phone out and tapped on the recording app.
“Jimmy Lightfoot. He was out walking his dog when the dog broke free from the leash and wandered into that area.” Ethan turned and pointed up ahead, where there was a break in the fencing. “He spotted the car when he was getting his dog out of there and called us.”
“Is he still here?” Drew did a full 360 turn, scanning the scene.
“He’s finishing up his statement.” Ethan turned his attention to Hope. “I wish you hadn’t come with Drew.” His stern look softened, as did his tone.
“I won’t get in the way.” Hope folded her arms over her chest. Drew was right; she wasn’t dressed for the weather, at least not for standing in place.
“I didn’t think you would.” Ethan looked back to where the first responders were working. Several had huddled at the break in the fence where it looked like the car hit before plummeting down the hillside. He looked back at Hope and held her gaze for a solemn moment before he cast his eyes downward.
Hope gasped. “Devon’s in the car, isn’t she?”
He closed the small gap between them and touched her arm. “I’m sorry, but I can’t confirm the identity of the victim at this time. Not until the next of kin has been notified.”
Hope’s hand covered her mouth. Devon was dead. She was certain of it.
“They’re bringing up the body now. Are you going to be okay?”
Hope stared at him for what seemed like a lifetime. Everything went still around her. Around them. And silent. She wanted to cry, to scream, to wake up from this nightmare. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t a dream, it was real. Devon was dead. She fought back the tears. She couldn’t cry. Not then. Ethan and Drew had work to do. They didn’t have time to console her. She wanted them to do their jobs and not worry about her.
She dipped her head to compose herself and then looked back up. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Go back to your officers.”
“Wait, before you do. Can you tell me if the victim’s death was a result of the accident?” Drew asked.
“At this time, I can’t comment. There will be an autopsy to determine the cause of death,” Ethan said. “Also, under no circumstances are you to reveal the victim’s identity.”
“Of course not. No way I want to be responsible for a family member learning about a loved one’s death via my article. Can you tell me if there was any sign there was foul play involved?” Drew asked.
“Again, I can’t comment at this time. We’ll do a full investigation and then release our findings,” Ethan said.
“Chief!” an officer from the section of the broken fence called out.
Ethan raised his hand to acknowledge he heard. He took a step closer to Hope. “I have to go. There’s nothing out here for you to do or see. Go back in the car. You’re shivering. I’ll call you later.” He squeezed her arm before turning away and walking toward his officer.
Hope opened her mouth to protest but didn’t say a word. How could she argue with him? He was right. Maybe it would have been better if she’d stayed at the coffee shop with Jane.
“I’ll be a few more minutes.” Drew followed Ethan and then changed course. Hope saw that he’d spotted Jimmy Lightfoot on the other side of the road. He wasted no time in getting his exclusive interview. She scanned the scene, and everything seemed to go into slow motion, and the shouts from the first responders seemed to fade as the body bag came into view.
Hope’s stomach somersaulted, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth to stifle her cry.
What happened on Hargate Hill? How long had Devon been in that ditch? Was she alive when her car careened through the fencing? The questions repeated until they became a never-ending loop in her head.
She looked away, refusing to look back at the disturbing scene. She leaned against the driver’s side of the car. The body was out of view. A few minutes later, Drew joined her, and nudged her with his shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked, concern filled his voice. “It’s okay if you’re not. She was a friend.”
“We were. Though we hadn’t seen each other since high school. Maybe ‘friend’ isn’t the right word.” Hope looked at Drew. They’d gone through life’s ups and downs, like her divorce and very public loss on The Sweet Taste of Success, and her first-ever recipe video going viral. They were friends. Best friends for life.
“Maybe not. Still, you and Devon were friends in high school. You had a connection with her. I can’t imagine being here is easy for you.”
“What about you? You were friends with her too, back then.”
Drew wrapped his arm around Hope’s shoulders and pulled her close to him. “I’m here doing my job. I’m a professional. I have to be emotionally detached.”
“I see. So, what does your emotionally detached, professional brain tell you about all this?”
“That’s easy. I suspect this wasn’t a simple accident.”
“Exactly what I’m thinking. I mean, it’s too much of a coincidence Devon shows up here to find out what happened to her mother and then disappears the day she’s supposed to talk to the retired detective and then she’s found dead in a car accident.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Neither do I.” Hope pulled away from Drew and the car. She walked to the hood. “I think someone staged this to look like an accident.” She looked over her shoulder. “I think someone murdered Devon.”
Drew opened his mouth to say something and then clamped it shut, his lips thinning into a grim line. Hope followed his gaze. Approaching from the other direction was Norrie Jennings.
“Oh. No. She’s not going to steal my story.” Drew’s voice went up a notch, and he stood up straight.
“I thought you were in a professional, emotionally detached mode?”
“Not when it comes to her.” He lunged forward, but Hope grabbed his arm. He glowered at her.
“Drew, you have your quotes and your photographs. You need to get back to the office and write up your article before she writes hers. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Drew was standing firm.
Hope tugged his arm. Still no movement on his part. She pulled, harder, and it yielded to him caving and walking back to the driver’s side.
Behind the wheel, he navigated his car through a four-point U-turn and then drove back to town. Hope welcomed the heated seats and nestled her head in the soft, leather headrest. By the time she’d get dropped off at her house, she expected to be thawed out.
“We need to find out if Devon made it to Milford to speak with the retired detective. Can you check?” The warmth from the seat spread throughout Hope’s body, chasing away the cold that clung to her.
“I can. I’d love to get my hands on her research notes. I wonder if she had copies or saved them to the cloud? Maybe Felice knows?”
“Felice! She’ll be devastated when she finds out what happened.” Hope’s heart broke, thinking about the news Felice would soon be receiving. “Who’s going to tell her?”
“Ethan was heading over to Felice’s house with another officer.”
Knowing Ethan would be the one delivering the devastating news gave Hope some comfort. He’d be gentle, compassionate, and would stay if Felice needed him to.
She swiveled her head and looked at Drew.
“She asked me to help her. Maybe if I had said yes right away . . .” Her throat choked with emotion.
“Hey, don’t do that to yourself. You’re not in any way responsible for what happened. Who knows, if you had said yes, we could be pulling your body out of a ditch.” Hope knew his words were supposed to be supportive, but they painted a gruesome picture instead. He must have caught her grimace. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all dark on you. But you know what I mean.”
“I do.” Hope shifted her gaze back to the road ahead. “I can’t shake the feeling I let her down.”
“Oh, boy. You’re not thinking of doing what I think you’re thinking of doing, are you?”
Hope huffed. “I can’t just sit around doing nothing. Devon was murdered.”
“We don’t know for certain.” He flicked on his turn signal. “Look at me being the sensible one. Not leaping before the facts are in.”
“Yeah, didn’t think it was possible,” Hope quipped.
“Hey! I have feelings, you know.”
She stretched out her hand and rubbed Drew’s arm. “I do know. So, are you going to help me?”
Drew eased his car to a full stop at an intersection and waited for the pickup truck coming from the other direction to drive through before pressing on the accelerator.
“Like you even have to ask. Let’s find out what happened to Devon and her mother.”