Chapter 29
What was she missing?
Emily stared at the pages spread across the bed. She’d been juggling information and names for the past three hours. Kept her mind occupied.
You just needed someone to blame besides yourself.
She blocked Clint Austin from her head. Focused on the pages.
These were the names of all the people who had been aware of Emily’s plans that night and a few others who might be somehow connected, like her father and Principal Call.
Each name had two columns, “Negatives” and “Positives.” The “Negatives” column obviously represented reasons that person might have had for wanting to hurt Heather.
The “Positives” were all the reasons that same person wouldn’t possibly want to hurt Heather.
For more than ten years Emily had lived with the idea that Heather was murdered in her stead.
If Austin wasn’t the killer, then the murder hadn’t been about Emily. It was about Heather.
Marv, for example, had gotten angry with Heather a few weeks prior because she’d gone back to Keith. Keith, on the other hand, had gotten super jealous over her dating Marv. None of which, as far as Emily could recall, had really been investigated.
The police had their murderer; why look any further?
That concept settled inside her like a block of ice.
Focus on the list.
Violet. She’d wanted to be captain of the cheerleading squad. She’d wanted Keith. Heather’s death ensured the path was wide open for both.
Cathy . . . well, she was just jealous of Heather’s popularity. Everyone had loved Heather the best out of their tight little group. Heather was simply the most popular girl in the entire high school at the time. Had been for years.
Megan had nothing in the “Negatives” column. Same with Principal Call.
Ed Wallace: “A secret with Fairgate.” There was no reason Emily’s father would have wanted to hurt Heather. The idea was ludicrous. There was only the business with Fairgate.
Fairgate. “Secrets. Lies. Protect his interests.” All those things were listed in his “Negatives” column.
Justine . . . nothing.
Misty . . . weird, which didn’t really count.
Austin . . . nothing. There was no reason whatsoever that he would have wanted to hurt Heather.
If Emily was not the intended victim, he had no motive.
Why hadn’t the police considered this theory?
Chief Ledbetter hadn’t been a fool. Ray Hale—Emily paused—maybe she should add him to her list. But why?
Ray had known Heather, but he was three years older.
It wasn’t like they’d hung out together.
Every single person who had known Heather couldn’t be a suspect.
Otherwise Emily would be adding Mike Caruthers and God only knows who else.
Emily crawled around the papers and off the bed. She paced the small room. If Clint Austin wasn’t the murderer then Heather’s killer was still out there. Just like Clint said.
That subzero sensation sank all the way to Emily’s bones.
If that was the case, Clint would be a target. She would be a target. He’d said that too.
A rap on the door nearly sent her jumping out of her skin.
She took a moment to reclaim her breath.
Maybe her father had decided to make amends. No, her parents wouldn’t be out at this hour.
Clint Austin? Emily didn’t want to see him again. At least not yet.
She peered out the peephole in the door.
But it wasn’t Clint Austin.
Reeling with shock, she drew back, gathered her courage, and opened the door, anticipation rising.
“Good evening, Miss Wallace. I’d like a moment of your time if you’re not too busy.”
Sidney Fairgate.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The idea that she should be afraid crossed her mind, but no reason materialized to suspect he had anything to do with Heather’s murder. Still, the truth was, Emily couldn’t be sure.
“I can see my visit has had a profound effect. Perhaps you’ll allow me to step inside so that you might hear what I have to say.”
Somehow she backed up; he came inside the small room and closed the door behind him. No bodyguards. No dogs. Just him. She should be afraid. She knew this. But what she felt was hopeful. Maybe now she would know the truth about her father.
“You’ve changed your mind,” she suggested. Please let that be the case. All she wanted was the truth.
“Actually, yes. I have changed my mind. A previous negotiation failed to live up to my expectations.” He smiled and those black eyes glittered. “I see this pleases you.”
Her attempt to conceal the new rush of anticipation had obviously failed. “Yes.” Her defenses snapped into place, a little behind the curve. “What will this cost me?” The idea that they were in a motel room alone with the bed right behind her wasn’t lost on her.
“This, Miss Wallace, is for free.”
Surprised, she reiterated, “No strings?”
He moved that narrow head from side to side. “None.”
She moistened her lips, summoned a little extra courage. “Okay.”
“Brace yourself, Miss Wallace,” he said with all the pomp and circumstance of a well-rehearsed freak show. “Your father, and mine, allowed an innocent man to go to prison for murder. I won’t bore you with the details. I’m sure you can learn those straight from the horse’s mouth.”
She started to shake. It began with a quaking deep, deep inside her and radiated outward. She wanted to demand an explanation, but she couldn’t seem to summon the necessary cognitive processes.
“Have a nice evening.” He turned to go, then hesitated. “I almost forgot.” Those dark, toxic eyes connected with hers once more. “I heard on the scanner on the way here that there’s trouble at the Austin place. Something to do with Troy Baker and some of his friends.”