Chapter
Five

The food in my stomach rolled over, and for a moment, I thought I was going to be violently ill. Paul must have been afraid I would faint again because he got up from his chair and came over to sit next to me.

“Are you all right, Sarah? You look so pale.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t find my voice. The room spun around me, and I felt as if I were looking at myself from somewhere far away.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

I shook my head. “No. Just tell me about the flowers.” My dream from the other night came flooding back. In my mind, blood and flowers blended together in a kind of macabre torrent.

“There’s not much more to say. There was a broken vase next to Hannah’s body, and white orchids on the floor.” He frowned. “The detective I spoke to is convinced the vase was knocked off the table during a struggle. The very same way it happened with your mother. But . . .”

“But what? Did you see something different?”

He nodded. “The flowers were not only on both sides of Hannah’s body, they were on top of her. If the vase had been broken when she tried to fight off her attacker, she probably should have fallen on them. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Did you ask your friend about it?”

Paul sighed. “Yes, but after that he cut the conversation short. He wasn’t supposed to let me see that report in the first place. Besides, I’m a deputy sheriff in a small county in Missouri. He works in Kansas City. I don’t think he liked the idea of my questioning the work their detectives were doing.”

“This is exactly what happened to my parents. How can that be?” My hand trembled as I picked up my coffee cup.

“It wasn’t my intention to upset you,” Paul said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have . . .”

I shook my head and took a sip of coffee. “You did the right thing. This is my sister. My family. I need to know what’s going on.” I put my cup down and stared at him. “Was Hannah right, Paul? Was she killed because she found out something she wasn’t supposed to?” I had to stop a moment to catch my breath. “Why didn’t I listen to her?” I asked finally. “What have I done?”

“Don’t go there, Sarah,” Paul said sternly. “There was no way for you to know Hannah’s claims had any validity. Besides, I’m finding it hard to believe that whoever killed your parents came back almost twenty years later to murder your sister. That’s really farfetched.”

“Maybe she uncovered something, Paul. Like she claimed. And the wrong person found out about it.”

“But why didn’t she just go to the police? If she had proof, they would have listened.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “but if the killings are connected—”

“Are you basing this solely on the flowers? Couldn’t Hannah have bought them?”

“That’s impossible. We both hate white orchids. She would never, ever have them in her home. They remind us of the night our parents died.”

Paul crossed his arms and fixed his gaze on some spot behind me. I could tell he was trying to make sense of the situation. I was dealing with several emotions at once. The terrible realization that the person who killed my mother and father may have just murdered my sister, guilt because I didn’t listen to Hannah when she tried to share with me what she’d uncovered, and an underlying sense of fear. If the person who murdered my parents had come back for Hannah, how could I be sure he was through? Was Cicely next? Or me?

“Look, I’m going to do what I can to help you,” he said finally. “But you’ve got to understand that I’m very limited. If the sheriff found out I was nosing around in a case from another county, he’d have a fit.”

“Seems to me that people in law enforcement should care about justice.”

“We do care about justice,” he said soothingly. “Unfortunately, some departments are more committed to closing cases than finding the truth. But I care, Sarah. You won’t be alone in this. I’ll do my best to find out what really happened and who is behind it. You’ll need to trust me. Can you do that?”

I nodded. “I trust you, Paul. You’re the only person in law enforcement I do trust right now.”

“Look, Sarah, most police officers are good people whose job is to bring justice to bad situations. Don’t toss all of us out because of what happened with your parents. Right now the authorities in Kansas City know a lot more about your sister’s case than I do.” He frowned. “What will you tell the police when you see them this afternoon?”

I shook my head. “I honestly don’t know. Hopefully, I’ll find there’s no reason to say anything. Maybe they’ve already arrested someone.”

“Whatever you do, don’t mention me. If you end up still needing my help, we can’t let them know I’m stepping into their investigation.”

“No problem. Again, thank you so much, Paul. This whole thing is so confusing, and I have no idea what to do next.” I sought his eyes. “You said something about a warning. Do you think God’s telling us to leave this situation alone?”

He stared back at me, his jaw working. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t know if it’s God or my own trepidation. Something’s really off here, but I have no idea what’s behind it. I don’t want you or Cicely to get hurt. But . . .”

He stopped and stared down into his coffee cup.

“But what?”

“Look, Sarah. There’s one thing I’ve learned from being in law enforcement. Something I believe with all my heart. Letting criminals go free doesn’t help anyone. No matter how scary it might be to confront them, getting them off the street so they can’t hurt anyone else is always the right way to go. I just worked a rape case where the victim just wanted to forget what happened and move on with her life. Even though she said she’d told me everything about the incident, I knew she was holding back. She didn’t want to go to trial, didn’t want her friends and family to know what had happened to her.”

“I can understand that.”

“I can too. But what if more women are raped by this same man? What if someone gets killed? It happens. I wonder if the rest of his victims will understand? And what about their friends and families?”

I didn’t answer him, but what he said made sense. Maybe Hannah didn’t want me to go after the truth. But what if her killer hurt someone else? How could I allow that to happen? And how could I stand by and see her murderer get away?

“You see my dilemma,” Paul said. “Do I stand by that belief, or do I tell you to stay out of it because I think it could be dangerous?”

I shook my head. “Look, we’re making assumptions here. First, let’s find out what the police say. Maybe they’ll solve Hannah’s murder and lay all our questions to rest.”

I said the words and Paul nodded his agreement, but I could see in his expression that he didn’t believe that any more than I did.

We finished our breakfast, and Paul gave me a ride back to Janet’s. When we pulled up to the house, he got out of the car, came around, and opened the passenger-side door for me. Not used to that kind of chivalry, I thanked him.

“My father used to open the car door for my mother,” I said. “Not many men still do that.”

“Well, they should,” he said with a smile. He closed the door behind me and then put his hands on my shoulders. I was surprised and jumped at his touch. When I looked up at him, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing in his eyes. Was it concern? Or something more?

“Sarah, if the police try to tell you Hannah was killed by some random thief, and if they won’t listen to you, I’m going to do whatever I can to help you find the truth,” he said softly. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”

Before I had a chance to respond, he kissed me on the cheek. Surprised, I pulled away but immediately wished I hadn’t. I gazed up at him for a moment but couldn’t read his expression. Why had he kissed me? Was it just something he did with everyone, or was there more to it? My face felt hot, and I prayed he’d attribute my red cheeks to the cold air. Redheads blush easily, and I was true to the stereotype. My father used to tease me about it, calling me his “little beet.” It was one of the things I remembered about him.

“Th-thank you,” I said, embarrassed not only by my physical reaction but also for my emotional response. If I wanted his help, I couldn’t risk acting like a silly schoolgirl. He would be uncomfortable, and I’d end up driving him away.

I turned away and practically ran into the house. It took effort to stop and wave good-bye, but I didn’t want him to think he’d offended me. He waved back and got into his car. I stepped through the front door and closed it behind me. Then I slumped down and tried to calm myself. My cheek burned as if his lips were still pressed to it. I raised my hand and touched my face, remembering how it felt to have him near. I was glad Janet wasn’t in the room to see how flustered I was.