CHAPTER SIX
Jake had spent three hours turning over every rock, leaf, and stick in the back alley of Bettina’s Bridal salon. Nothing. Whoever had thrown the stone had been careful.
And, apparently, lucky. The window in the dressing room was covered by a sheer drape; it was possible to see a figure in front of the mirror. Had Lizzie been the intended target?
Given that Lizzie and her bridal party had made an appointment at Bettina’s, an appointment that had made the society page of the Troutville Gazette—and no, it hadn’t been a slow news day—where and when the party would be was right there in black and white. Perhaps the culprit hadn’t cared which member of the wedding he or she struck as long as one of them got hit. Was the shop owner or one of her assistants involved? Had they alerted someone that one of the party was in the dressing room? Had the culprit been hanging around in front of the store, seen one of the four friends go into the dressing room, and then scurried to the back alley to throw the stone?
He pushed through the double doors of Troutville General Hospital with a lot of questions and no answers. The police had dismissed the entire incident as petty vandalism; they’d conducted a brief investigation, had turned up nothing, and asked that Jake keep them informed of any new developments. The police regarded the case as they would a bunch of feuding high schoolers.
He stopped by the information desk for Felicia’s room, then rode up in the elevator to the third floor.
“Jake!”
The moment the elevator doors pinged open, Holly was running toward him. He saw Lizzie and Gayle in the waiting area, wearing worried expressions, shaking their heads and pacing.
“How’s Felicia?” he asked.
“She’s going to be all right,” Holly said. “She needed stitches—the cut was so deep it’ll scar, unfortunately, but the doctors said she was very lucky the rock missed her eye.”
There was that word, again: lucky. But Jake didn’t think luck was involved here. The culprit had known when and where to throw that stone. And he had a feeling he or she had aimed it for the face so that whoever was hit would be a walking reminder to Lizzie of what would happen if she went ahead with the wedding.
“Is someone with Felicia now?” he asked. “I’d like to ask her some questions if she’s up to it.”
“The police were here to take her statement but they’re long gone. She’s alone, but she’s resting now.”
Jake nodded.
“They’re going to send her home in an hour,” Holly added. “She’ll stay with me and Lizzie for a couple of days. You can come by Lizzie’s later today or tomorrow.”
“Thanks, I will,” he said. “Felicia’s been through quite a lot.”
Holly smiled gently. “You were always the only person to call her Felicia.”
“It’s a nice name,” Jake said. “I don’t know why she prefers to be called Flea. I’ve never understood that.”
“Her father always pronounced her name as though it was two syllables—Flea-sha,” Holly explained. “So when she learned her name, she would refer to herself as Flea.”
“Ah, put that way, it’s a very sweet nickname,” Jake said. He remembered the first day of middle school, when they were thirteen, and the teacher called roll. When she came to Felicia Harvey, some of the Down Hillers spoke up and said everyone called her Flea for short. Pru Dunhill snorted and said, “You can borrow my dog’s collar, if you need to.” The room had erupted with laughter, and Pru had been sent off to the principal’s office. But the damage had been done.
“I assume you investigated the bridal salon and the property?” Holly asked.
“I did,” he said. “And I also told you that I don’t discuss an ongoing case.”
“Jake, Flea could have been killed,” Holly said, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re not talking notes and scratched cars anymore. We’re talking about life and death.”
“I’m aware of that, Holly.”
She stared at him, taking measure of him. Jake was aware of how well she still knew him. She would get no further information out of him. He saw her process that. He also saw she was angry about it.
She sat on a hard plastic chair, and he sat down across from her. “Lizzie wants to cancel the engagement party,” she said. “Dylan was here a couple of hours ago, but he had an emergency with a client and had to go. He also thinks they should cancel it.” She buried her face in her hands, and he was tempted to put his arm around her. He braced his hands on his thighs to keep them from touching her, from tucking aside the heavy strand of brown hair that always fell in her face when she hung her head. From comforting her. Soothing her worries. From telling her everything would be okay.
God, how he wanted to do all that.
“I’ve spoken to Dylan by phone,” Jake said. “And I’ve talked him out of canceling the party.”
“What?” Holly said, jumping up. “You can’t be serious!”
“Holly, the engagement party is in two weeks. Hopefully, I’ll catch the jerk long before then, but if I don’t, I can count on him or her being at the engagement party. Practically every one of my suspects is on the guest list. That means they’ll all be in one room at the same time. Any suspicious behavior will be noticed. It’ll also allow me to question people surreptitiously. Besides, if they cancel the party they might as well call off the wedding.”
She seemed to be taking that all in. “But it also tells the person that Lizzie and Dylan won’t be scared off. What if they resort to more violence? What if instead of a rock, the next weapon is a knife or a gun or—” She stopped and shook her head, closing her eyes. “I’m just so scared for Lizzie. For all of us, now. I don’t know what to think, who to talk to.”
“Holly, just be assured that I’m on the case. Dylan has hired discreet bodyguards to trail the four of you at all times. In fact, if you look to your right, there’s a rather muscular man supposedly reading the paper.” She glanced over. “But he’s watching the area very carefully.”
“I need to do more,” she said. “I need to work with you on this case.”
“No.”
“Give me one good reason,” she said.
“I’ll give you three. One, you’re not a detective. Two, you could get hurt. And three, I don’t want to work with you.”
“Because of what happened between us?” she asked softly.
“Nothing happened between us.”
“You know what I’m referring to,” she said.
“In any case, that’s not the reason I don’t want us to work together.”
“Then why?” she asked.
“I gave you three reasons, Holly. That’s all you’re getting.”
“The police are acting as though what’s happening is high school hijinks,” Holly said. “Flea might as well have been hit by a water balloon.”
“They did conduct an investigation and found nothing,” Jake explained. “Not just from what happened at Bettina’s, but every incident. They know I’m working on the case and that I’ll keep them apprised of all developments.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to do the same,” she said, standing.
He stood, too. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m going to conduct my own investigation,” she said. “And I’ll keep you informed.”
She stared at him, waiting, he knew, for him to tell her she would do no such thing, that she could get hurt, killed, and that, all right, they could work together, but he was the boss and she’d better remember that.
“You will do no such thing,” he began.
A hint of a smile crossed her red lips.
“We’ll begin Saturday night at the reunion,” he said, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake. At least by working with her, he could keep tabs on her. She was absolutely right about how serious their culprit was. “Similar to the engagement party, a good majority of the suspects will be there.”
“And we’ll all be safe,” she asked, “at the reunion?”
“I’ll have excellent security stationed,” he responded.
She nodded. “Thank you, Jake. I mean, for agreeing to let me work with you. I need to do something. I need to help.”
“I understand.” He glanced at his watch. He had an appointment to interview Bettina Tutweller in ten minutes. “Till the reunion, then. I’ll see you there.”
He froze for a moment; those were his exact words the night of the prom. He’d wanted to pick her up at her house; he’d spent the afternoon polishing his beat-up car, but Holly had wanted to meet at the school gym, where the prom would be held. He’d been disappointed; he’d wanted to do the entire night right—pick her up, knock on the door, be greeted by her parents, wait for her to come downstairs in her beautiful dress, pin on her corsage, his hands sure to tremble.
But she’d wanted to meet at the prom, and so he’d said, “I’ll see you there.”
If she remembered, she showed no sign. Then again, why would she remember? He’d been just a friend to her then, not the love of her life.
As she’d been his.
Holly had been in Troutville for two entire weeks. She couldn’t quite believe it. A week and a day ago, she hadn’t thought she’d last a weekend. Yet here she was, staying at Lizzie’s in her old family neighborhood, spending time with her friends and her aunt Louise and Lizzie, and with Jake Boone, of course.
Not of course. During the past two weeks, she’d seen him a few times. He came by to visit with Flea those first few days after the accident, and once Holly had run into him at Morrow’s Pub. He’d been cordial, nothing more, nothing less. She’d asked if there were any new developments in the case—there weren’t—and that had been that.
Actually, there had been more, unless she was imagining it. It was in the way he looked at her, with those intelligent, knowing eyes. It wasn’t a look of anger or resentment or long-simmering bitterness.
It was a look of ... desire.
Perhaps she was crazy. Perhaps she’d been without male companionship for too long. But the way he looked at her was the way a man looked at a woman he was very, very attracted to. There was nothing overtly sexual about it; the look in his eyes, his body language, came from somewhere deep inside.
And tonight, they would meet where they had left off ten years ago. With their classmates. At their reunion.
I can’t believe I’m really going, Holly thought, glancing at herself in the mirror over Lizzie’s bureau. She, Lizzie, Gayle, and Flea were all in Lizzie’s bedroom. Lizzie sat at her vanity table, halfheartedly applying cosmetics while glancing sadly at Flea, who lay on Holly’s bed with a tray of cookies, a pot of tea, and a thick paperback romance novel. Gayle was rummaging through Lizzie’s closet for sexy shoes with which to impress her boss, who would also be attending the reunion. Luckily she and Lizzie wore the same size.
“I really don’t feel right about going to a stupid high school reunion while Flea is still recuperating,” Lizzie said, absently stroking a blush brush over her cheeks. “Why don’t we all just skip the reunion and stay here and have a slumber party. Like old times.”
No one jumped at the idea. For one thing, old times might have been not so perfect, but at least no one was hurling heavy stones at them or leaving mounds of dirt on beds back then. Now, their huddling together was necessary for them to feel safe. It was almost too much a reminder of all that was going on.
A week had passed since Flea had been hurt in Bettina’s salon—a week without further incident or notes—or clues, for that matter—and Flea was recovering well. The emergency room doctor had encouraged her to stay quiet for two weeks, and though she wanted to get back to work, Lizzie insisted she follow the doctor’s orders. Flea was sleeping over at Lizzie’s tonight since Lizzie had cable television and a movie Flea wanted to see was on at nine, and a security guard was posted outside the house.
“Lizzie Morrow, if you stay home on my account, you’ll make me feel terrible,” Flea said. “I’ve got goodies, a great book, and cable. I’m very comfy. Besides, you know I’m happier being a homebody than going out.”
Lizzie swiped a cookie from the tray next to Flea. “I know, but this is our reunion. What’s a reunion without the four of us? Especially because Holly’s back in town. I never thought I’d see the day.”
Holly smiled. “Me, either.”
“Lizzie, sweetie,” Flea said. “You guys go and have a good time. I’m much happier here, believe me. Plus, I’ve been dying to see the movie that’s on tonight. And anyway, you heard what Jake said last week—the person responsible for all this trouble could very well be there. Maybe someone will slip up or try something and be caught.”
“But—” Lizzie began.
“Are you going to argue with an injured person?” Flea asked, grinning. “Look, the reunion is a perfect place to find a whole bunch of people who don’t like the fact that our Lizzie is marrying Dylan Dunhill.”
“Great,” Lizzie said, flopping down on her bed. “All the more reason to go. I can’t wait to walk into a room with a group of people who hate me and wish me a lifetime of unhappiness.”
“Screw ’em,” Gayle said. “And it’s not a group of people, it’s just one loser.”
“Actually,” Holly said, “we don’t know that. It could be more than one person. Two, or even a group.”
“Even better!” Lizzie said, slapping her hand over her forehead.
Holly sat down next to Lizzie and held her hand. “Honey, the last thing I want is for you to be in danger’s way. But with Dylan and Jake and the security team watching, I’m comfortable with the safety factor.”
“And what more likely place for the culprit to strike,” Gayle put in, “than at the high school reunion.”
“And when they do,” Flea said, “Dylan and Jake will be there to catch them.”
Lizzie shot up. “Oh, God. What if Dylan or Jake gets hurt?” She dropped back down and covered her hands with her face. “This is too much. There’s too much danger. Too much at stake.”
“The only way to catch this ... this person or people,” Flea said, “is to hunt them down. “I think Jake’s right—he’s going to find this monster among us. Whether it’s at the reunion, the engagement party, or walking down the street.”
“That’s so scary,” Holly said.
“We’ll get him. Her. Them. Whoever,” Gayle put in. “Jake is a great private investigator.”
“That’s true,” Lizzie said. “With Jake on the case, I do feel a lot better. Safer.”
“He’s such a good person, too,” Flea said. “It was so nice of him to come by the hospital and see how I was doing. And he stopped by my house twice in the past week. If anyone can find out who’s behind what’s been happening, it’s Jake Boone.”
I hope so, Holly thought. Because I sure don’t know how to go about this. She stood and walked over to the window. Was the culprit out there right now? Watching? Listening?
Holly shivered and closed the window.
“I still can’t understand how it’s possible that our psycho left no clues any of the times he or she has struck,” Holly said, sitting down next to Flea. “In movies, even the most careful criminals mess up and leave clues.”
“Perhaps tonight,” Lizzie said, “at the reunion, he or she will do or say something that will incriminate them. We all have to be on high alert.”
“It’s like, on one hand, you want them to do something so that we can catch them,” Holly said. “But on the other, you want to feel safe.”
“I think I’ve forgotten what it feels like to feel safe,” Lizzie said. “I just want to stay home with Flea.”
“Because that’s the safe thing to do,” Flea said. “But it’s not the right thing to do. Not for your future. You’ve got to let Dylan and Jake catch this person. And the best way to do that is to go about your business and not be stopped from living your life!”
“You are absolutely right, Flea,” Holly said. “I want my dear cousin safe, too, but you’re right.”
Lizzie sat up. “Great. First I have a madman after me and now I have to help catch him.” She offered a weak smile. “I know you’re right, Flea. But you’re sure—about us going to the reunion without you?”
Flea nodded her head. “Absolutely. Besides, you know I hate parties. I’m way too shy.”
“If we’re going, we’d better start getting ready,” Gayle said. “The reunion starts in forty-five minutes.”
“I didn’t bring anything fancy,” Holly said. “I did bring a pantsuit I could wear.”
“Let me guess,” Lizzie said with a smile. “Beige?”
“Beige is classic,” Holly said. “Goes with everything.”
“Except for a good time,” Lizzie responded with a laugh. “Beige and fun definitely don’t mix.”
Flea laughed. “She’s got you there.”
Gayle was still in Lizzie’s closet. “Oh, Holly, I would love to see you in this—with your wonderful brown hair and blue eyes, a pale pink would be so dramatic on you, yet feminine—or ... what about this!” She pulled a long, red silky dress from the closet. “Liz, what do you think?”
“That would look so great on you, Holly!” Lizzie said. “Try it on—pretty please?”
“It is pretty,” Holly said, running a hand down the floaty material. It’s so soft. And the color is beautiful.”
Lizzie shooed Holly behind her old-fashioned dressing screen. “Chop-chop, Cousin. You’ve only got a half hour!”
Holly took off her dress slacks and blouse and slipped on the dress. It fit perfectly, skimming over her body. It felt like heaven against her skin.
“Does it fit?” Gayle called.
“Perfectly!” Holly said. “Lizzie, could I borrow a pair of shoes? I don’t think my sensible beige, one-inch heels are going to cut it with this dress.”
A pair of three-inch-high red sandals appeared in a hand behind the screen.
Holly laughed and slipped her feet into the shoes. Luckily, she and her cousin were the same size.
“Come on out,” Flea said. “We want to see!”
Holly stepped out to a collective gasp.
“You look so beautiful!” Lizzie breathed. “Oh, Holly, you look like a princess!”
“You do,” Gayle said. “Red is definitely your color.”
“Just beautiful, Holly,” Flea said, smiling sweetly. “It’s a really lovely dress. Not one of mine, but lovely nonetheless.” She laughed. “All right, girls, you’d better all get ready or you’ll be late.”
In moments, Gayle and Lizzie removed their dress bags from Lizzie’s closet and shimmied into their dresses.
Lizzie flopped down on her bed next to Flea. “I feel awful about this. Here I am, getting all gussied up for a party, and one of my best friends is holed up here, with a bandage on her head. I won’t go.”
“Lizzie Morrow,” Flea scolded. “We’ve been through this. You’re going and that’s that. Besides, you look way too beautiful to stay home.”
“You do, Lizzie,” Holly seconded. Lizzie wore a long silky dress, royal blue, with a large royal blue flower on one strap.
“I can’t get over how stunning you look, Holly,” Lizzie said. “This dress says, ‘Jake Boone, you will not be able to take your eyes off me!’”
“Lizzie!” Holly said, her cheeks flaming. “I do not want Jake Boone’s eyes on me! Not that I think they’re on me in the first place. In fact, quite the opposite.”
“So you’re not attracted to him,” Lizzie stated. “Not at all.”
“No,” Holly said. “Not one bit.”
“Liar,” Lizzie singsonged. “I know you, Holly Morrow. And I know when you’re very interested.”
Holly hoped that didn’t mean she was transparent. Could Jake tell she was attracted to him? He hadn’t known when they were teenagers and neither had Lizzie, so clearly she wasn’t that transparent.
“I saw the way you looked at him when he was here earlier this week questioning Flea,” Lizzie said. “And I knew you were in love with him in high school.”
She turned beet red. “I wasn’t looking at him in any way,” Holly lied.
Actually, she’d been unable to take her eyes off him. He looked so handsome, so ... masculine. So...
She closed her eyes and pictured him, his face, his strong shoulders.
“Oh, yes, you were,” Lizzie said with a smile. “And I know you loved him in high school. You didn’t want to, because you wanted nothing to stop you from leaving Troutville. But you did love him. You think you could hide something like that from your cousin? I knew it, Hol.”
“Me, too,” Flea piped up from the bed. “And Gayle, too.”
Holly bit her lip. “I—”
“We understood,” Lizzie said. “You desperately wanted to leave Troutville. That was your dream. If you’d given in to your feelings for Jake, you might not have left.”
“It was for the best that he heard what you said on prom night, Holly,” Flea said. “Or he might have followed you wherever you were going, when it was his dream to stay in Troutville and prove everyone wrong about him.”
“Followed me?” Holly asked. “Why would he have followed me?”
“Because he was in love with you,” Flea said. “Madly.”
“What?” Holly shouted. “Jake Boone was in love with me?”
Lizzie nodded. “Anyone could see it.”
“Except me,” Holly said quietly.
“Sometimes we see what we want to see,” Flea said. “If you did acknowledge his feelings for you and yours for him, you would have ruined both of your dreams.”
“But their real dream was to be together,” Lizzie pointed out. “Wasn’t it?”
“At the time, all I wanted was to leave,” Holly said. “I’m ashamed of that now, but at eighteen, that was what was burning in my heart.”
“Well, you’re both adults now. And what happened was a long time ago,” Lizzie pointed out.
“He hates me,” Holly said. “He hated me on prom night and he hates me still.”
“He doesn’t hate you!” Lizzie said. “Right, Flea? You were there that night—was it hate you saw in his eyes? Or a broken heart?”
Holly glanced at Flea, who could be counted on to always tell the truth, even when it might hurt.
Flea said nothing for a few moments.
“Flea?” Holly asked.
“I don’t know,” Flea said. “He was very angry that night. But he was so young then.”
Holly took a deep breath and glanced down at herself. “I think I’d better change. I’d be more comfortable in my pantsuit.”
“You’re wearing this dress whether you like it or not, Hol,” Lizzie said. “If I have to take this fuchsia lipstick and draw on your pantsuit, I will.”
“You would not,” Holly said.
“Oh, but I would,” Lizzie said with a devilish smile. “You’ll forgive me eventually since it’s a good cause—your love life.” Lizzie waved the lipstick, then pointed it at Holly. “What’s it going to be?”
Holly caved. “You win.”
“I wish there was time for a pedicure for you, Holly,” Flea said. “Those shoes are screaming for a hot red pedicure.”
Holly smiled. “Three-inch heels and a pedicure? One is enough for one night.”
Miss Ellie would sure enjoy seeing Holly in shoes like this.
Would Jake? she wondered.
What am I thinking about? she scolded herself. The man doesn’t even want to work with me on the case; he’s not the least bit interested in me as a woman. Perhaps he was, once, as Lizzie and Flea insist. But he isn’t now. I can see it in the way he barely looks at me.
She wondered why he didn’t want to work with her, what his cryptic reason was. If not because of the past, then what?
You’re now an amateur detective, she told herself. And you have all of tonight to try to figure it out.
If she didn’t fall flat on her face in these skyscraper heels.