Chapter 3
THREE
A man lay dead, and here I was obsessing over my boyfriend… or whatever he was to me. I forced my gaze to sweep the room, to focus on what was in front of me instead of the chaos in my head. Somewhere in this crowd of former classmates was a person who might’ve wanted Brett Brinkley dead.
Joe Larson was now back behind the bar, serving up shots of bourbon, which was probably a good idea after the attendees had watched one of their own perish right in front of them.
Presley Lombardi was on her phone, speaking in hushed tones to someone on the other end of the line, occasionally hiccupping soft sobs.
The cameraman, Lee Frank, was slouching near the stage, seemingly confused as to what to do now that their camera subject was gone, and Mina was sitting behind him, a pinched expression on her face as she continued to stare at the camera screen.
Savilla was directing a server to place trays of hors d’oeuvres on long tables in the back.
Our former class president held hands with a few others and seemed to be finishing a prayer circle. This was Valerie Hurt, née Warren, who had returned home with a husband a few years ago to take a position as a third-grade teacher at the elementary school in town.
She was very pregnant with their first child and very proud of the fact, rubbing her belly as—the prayer circle now disbanded—she walked over with her husband, whom I’d never actually met.
She sank her off-kilter frame down into one of the covered chairs, and her husband followed behind her, grabbing another chair and placing her swollen feet on the seat. He did all of this without a word, and for his efforts she gave him a scowl.
“My husband, Will.” Valerie motioned at him by way of introduction.
“Will Hurt?” I repeated.
She nodded as if this was an absolutely normal name, as if anyone who met him wasn’t thinking, This Will Hurt.
Valerie patted the seat next to her, and I felt compelled to sit. “How are you?”
“Um… not great,” I answered.
Valerie shot me a pitying look. “I’m so glad that I have a chance to chat with you, especially after all this.” She peered into my eyes as if she was about to confess to murder.
I had the urge to stand and call for Charlie, but I would wait. I inched forward, anticipating her next words.
“Well, it’s just… I haven’t seen you at church in forever,” Valerie finished.
I sat back. That was not what I’d expected.
Valerie put out the hand that wasn’t on her stomach to grip my forearm. “I know you may have struggled to return since your mother passed, God bless her, but you’re still on the membership roll and can come back anytime.”
I had no idea how I’d gotten on the membership roll in the first place, but I could guess that it had something to do with Aunt DeeDee.
Regardless, “struggling” wasn’t exactly the issue.
I no longer lived here, and even if I did, I preferred my Sundays spent in the hills that surrounded our town rather than sitting in hard pews beneath a popcorn ceiling.
“The Lord always welcomes his little lost sheep,” Valerie reassured me. She smiled in a way that made me feel both accepted and also broken, but perhaps that’s exactly what Valerie intended.
“I live in New York,” I said. “I’m in vet school and just in town for the weekend.”
I left out the real reason why I’d chosen this exact weekend to come home because I didn’t want to explain that I was actually the illegitimate daughter of Frederick Finch and his will reading was tomorrow.
As far as I knew, Savilla was still in the dark about our biological connection, though I was beginning to wonder if Mr. Finch somehow knew that I was his daughter.
Otherwise, I had no idea why I’d been summoned by the lawyer.
Regardless, I certainly didn’t need any judgment from Valerie.
“Are you really?” Valerie’s eyes lit. “Maybe you can come to our career day at the end of the school year. You could talk about all creatures of our God and King.” She released my arm and I noticed red marks from where her fingers had pressed into my flesh.
“We’d also love to see you at our knitting circle—or maybe our book club?
We read Amish romance fiction, which is quite inspiring, and once a year we have a conference where we… ”
Before Valerie could give a rundown of the entire church calendar, she remembered something else. “Oh, and we have an excellent singles group! They go into Roanoke once a month to meet up with the other singles at churches in the area.”
“Oh, I’m not… single,” I corrected involuntarily, before practically hitting myself for the admission.
“Oh?” Valerie was waiting.
“I’m dating Charlie Strong,” I admitted, reminding myself that this fact wasn’t actually a secret even though I wasn’t sure where exactly we stood at the moment. “You know, the sheriff we elected earlier this year?”
“Okay, then.” Valerie eyed me, a new look of respect creeping into her expression. “That’s a different story. You two could join our Sunday school class for young marrieds.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell Valerie that not only had Charlie and I not yet defined our relationship, we’d also already surely broken whatever rules she had in place for a dating couple.
We’d slept together every chance we’d had, which with the long distance was probably about a couple dozen times by now.
Ninety percent of those encounters had been amazing, which Lacy said was outstanding odds for a new relationship.
In fact, when I’d reluctantly offered the estimated number, Lacy had screamed, You sweet little slut, you better hang on to him, a detail which I also would not share with Valerie.
“I’ll talk to Charlie about it,” I said, without any intention of doing so.
Will cut in, sheepishly. “Honey, we should really see if we can get you a room so you can rest.”
I glanced at my watch. It was nearing 9:30 p.m., an hour or so past the time when I was supposed to have escaped the reunion and found myself in Charlie’s arms. Instead, I was part of a dead man’s investigation, and Charlie had wandered away with another woman.
Albeit his deputy, but still.
“Does it look like the authorities have released anyone else?” Valerie shot back at her husband. “We can’t leave yet.”
I couldn’t handle whatever dynamic was happening here, and I stood to excuse myself, aching to go outside for a breath of fresh air. But as I turned to head toward the door, I felt eyes on me from across the room. Charlie.
He motioned for me, and despite the terrible circumstances, I felt a little thrill go through me. Charlie wanted me, needed me.
“I could use a second pair of eyes, especially ones with medical knowledge, and I still haven’t found a pathologist willing to work for a pittance in Aubergine,” he told me as I joined him on the stage, which now consisted of an abandoned microphone and square hay bales that had been part of the décor.
He lowered his voice. “We’ve got the body backstage. ”
“You know I work mostly with dogs and horses?” I reminded him.
“A mammal is a mammal,” he said, his brows dipping inward. “We need to hurry because I want the body autopsied as soon as possible. No one can leave town until we get the results.”
I froze. “You’re saying that we could be stuck here for days?”
Charlie’s expression was hard to read, but it seemed a mix of impatience and, What part of this don’t you understand? He said simply, “It won’t last that long.”
My eyes widened at the hard edges of his tone, but I wasn’t about to argue here and now.
“Are you going to put everyone on lockdown?” I asked.
Charlie’s hands were at his hips as he considered.
His tone softened a bit as he explained, “People will need permission to leave the property, and we’ll need to know exactly where they are.
But for tonight, I’ve asked Savilla to arrange for everyone to stay on-site while we conduct the questioning. ”
We. By that I assumed he meant him and the deputy, not him and me. That realization felt like the final emotional jab.
We made our way behind the red velvet stage curtains that hung from the high ceiling. The wings where I’d waited during the pageant were familiar, reminding me of the nerves and comradery all of us contestants had shared. But it was different this time: a man lay dead on a gurney in the wings.
My heart began palpitating as I noticed the white sheet that had been removed from the body. The deputy wasn’t around, probably fulfilling other duties, but there was another person with us—Lacy, her hand stuck in one of Brett’s pockets.
Suddenly, the memory of the last time I’d seen Lacy and Brett together before tonight came to mind.
It was the night before she’d left for college, and he’d shown up at her house with a gun, threatening to use it on himself if she left him.
He’d ended up jumping from her second-story window when the police arrived.
The gun had turned out to be fake, but Brett’s manipulation had been real enough.
I gasped, and Lacy’s head shot up, her eyes wide with fright.
“I’m not… it’s not what…” Lacy froze in place. “He has something that belongs to me.”
Charlie cleared his throat. “Lacy? Can I help you?”
Emotions ran across her face almost faster than I could read them. Fear, hope, anger. My friend was in some kind of trouble.
“You can’t tamper with the body,” I said, stating the obvious but also trying to prevent this information from coming out of Charlie’s mouth. If he spoke the words, they might be followed by, You’ll need to come with me.
“I wasn’t. I swear.” Lacy took a moment to collect herself. “He really does have something of mine.”
“Something like…?” Charlie waited for her to complete the statement.
Lacy cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. I knew that look. She didn’t want to tell him, so she wouldn’t. “Something personal… a piece of paper, a note.”
Lacy was lying, I was sure of it, but thankfully Charlie couldn’t read her like I could.