Chapter Nine
Brian studied the photograph Chloe handed him for a long time. “They look like a happy family,” he said at last, and returned the photo to her.
“And my sister made them unhappy.” She clenched her hands into fists.
“I hate this. Sharee didn’t deserve to die, but these people didn’t deserve what she put them through, either.
If someone followed me around, taking pictures like that and calling my house, I would have been terrified.
Even if that person was a teenage girl.”
He returned the photo to her. “It sounds like this teacher and his wife couldn’t have had anything to do with Sharee’s murder. Do you know if the investigators are looking at other men she might have met here?”
“The detective wouldn’t tell me anything else about the investigation, except that they know how to do their jobs and they’re still looking.”
“We should tell them what Leann and Krista said about her coming on to older male tourists,” Brian said. “In case they haven’t heard that yet.”
“You’re right, but I dread talking to them again. The detective was so…condescending.”
“I’m not their biggest fan, for obvious reasons.” He picked up the broom once more and resumed sweeping. “I finally worked up the nerve to call the lawyer Connor’s girlfriend told me about,” he said.
“Oh? What did they say?”
“She said that until I’m formally charged there’s not a lot she can do, but that if law enforcement tries to question me further, I should tell them I won’t talk without my lawyer present. I’d offer to go with you to talk to the sheriff but I don’t think that would be the best idea.”
“No. You should stay away from them. And I should warn you—there’s a reporter from something called True Crime Online who’s in town.
He came by the salon but I refused to talk to him.
He said he wanted to do a story about Sharee’s murder.
Maybe I should have at least heard what he had to say, but I couldn’t face rehashing everything with a stranger. ”
Brian stopped sweeping. “He came by ski patrol headquarters, too. Connor wouldn’t talk to him, either, and he sent me to a remote part of the resort where no one would find me.” Though she had managed to track him down.
“I’m glad your friends are supporting you,” she said. “One of my stylists, Nadia, reminded me today that I should ask for help when I need it. I wish I did that more. I wish I had set an example for Sharee. Maybe then she would have asked me for what she needed.”
“She still might not have confided in you,” he said. “Sometimes it’s hard to open up to other people. Even family. And it’s hard to let yourself depend on others. At least it is for me.”
“Me, too,” she said. She moved to the next station and began wiping it down.
“I’m trying to be better about that. The women who work for me have been very supportive.
But the last few years all my focus has been on growing my business, so I’ve let friends take a back seat.
I didn’t realize what a mistake that was until now. ”
“I’m glad we can be friends.” He rested the broom against the wall and moved closer. “And it means so much that you believe me,” he said.
Alone, she had questioned her belief in him, but when she was with him, she couldn’t imagine this gentle man hurting anyone. “I want to know who killed Sharee,” she said. “But I can’t believe it’s you.”
They worked in silence for the next half hour.
The routine of cleaning and restoring everything to order soothed her.
And the mindlessness of the task allowed her to think.
When they were putting away the cleaning supplies, she asked him, “Do you know how I can find out the phone number of someone in another state?”
“Who do you want to call?”
“I want to talk to Cameron Douglas.” Before he could object, she added, “He, of all people, might know if Sharee stalked anyone else before or after she focused on him.”
“How would he know that?”
“I’m not saying he does. But he might.”
“And? Is that the only reason you want to talk to him?”
“I want to know if he ever saw those photos Sharee took of him and his family. Darinda and my dad never mentioned anything like that. I never saw anything in the newspaper articles I read. Did she try to blackmail him? Or maybe she threatened to tell his wife?”
“Do you not believe his alibi?”
“I don’t know what to believe. I… I guess I want to know how disturbed Sharee really was. If she threatened Douglas, maybe she threatened someone else. And that person may have decided to shut her up for good.”
“He probably won’t talk to you,” Brian said.
“He might not. I won’t know if I don’t try. But first I have to find his number.”
“He’s still a teacher, right?”
“As far as I know.”
“Maybe the school has a directory.” He pulled out his phone.
Less than a minute later, they were looking at the staff directory for Sharee’s former high school. “No phone number,” Brian said.
“But there’s an email.” She pointed to the address next to Cameron Douglas’s name. Her heart raced, and her stomach swam, but she wasn’t going to let herself chicken out. She took out her own phone and typed an email:
My name is Chloe Anderson. Sharee Anderson was my sister.
I know about the way my sister harassed you and I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.
But now that Sharee is dead, I have so many unanswered questions.
I’m worried she targeted someone else and it cost her her life.
If you would be willing to talk to me, just for a few minutes, I promise I won’t contact you again.
She added her phone number, hit Send, then looked up at him. “Now all we can do is wait.”
“I hope you find out something that helps.”
She could tell he didn’t think she should contact Douglas, but he hadn’t tried to talk her out of it. Instead, he had helped her. Supported her. She had heard there were people in this world like that. Too bad it took her sister’s murder for her to find one.
brIAN DIDN’T LIKE the idea of Chloe contacting Cameron Douglas.
If the man had anything to do with Sharee’s death, she ought to stay far away from him.
But it wasn’t his place to tell Chloe that.
She thought the man would give her some answers, while Brian foresaw only more hurt.
Despite the things she might have done, he didn’t think Sharee was an evil person.
She was just a mixed-up kid. One who pushed too hard and went too far.
Chloe’s last memories of her sister shouldn’t be more stories of wrong choices and poor decisions.
But Brian had no control over the things Chloe learned or how she learned them. As an adult, she could do as she pleased. All he could do was stand by her. The way she stood by him, when so many people in town thought the absolute worst.
She closed the door of the supply closet and turned off the overhead lights, leaving only the soft illumination from a pair of lamps flanking the front desk. Her face half in shadow, she looked exhausted. About like he felt. Sleep remained elusive when so many worries clamored for attention.
“I’m going to stop in at the deli and grab something to eat,” she said. “Do you want to join me?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” He didn’t want to leave her so weary and sad. He didn’t want to leave her at all, really.
Daisy waited outside while they ordered their food, then joined them on the heated patio where they ate beneath the glow of a propane heater.
A few people glanced their way but said nothing.
“I’m not sure it’s doing your reputation much good to be seen with me,” he said.
“Everyone in town knows I’m the top suspect in a murder. ”
“I don’t care what people think.”
“That’s rare. Most of us think about it too much.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” She pulled a pickle from her sandwich and ate it, then said, “Sharee didn’t care about people’s opinions, because she always assumed they were positive. She told me once that everyone liked her. That she was the most popular person she knew.”
But one person hadn’t liked her, Brian thought.
“What did you think of Sharee?” Chloe asked. “I mean, before she started, well, stalking you.”
“I thought she wanted so much to be liked and admired,” he said. “She came across as happy and confident but I think deep down inside, she was unsure of herself. She was young and impatient for a life she didn’t have yet, so she tried to make people like her. She wanted to make them love her.”
She stared at him. “You saw all that?”
He shrugged. “People who are really secure don’t have to try so hard. And like I said, Sharee was young. I know at that age I had no idea how to act. I settled for being super nice to everyone so they’d like me. Most of the time it worked and before I knew it, my personality was pretty much set.”
“Don’t knock it. The world could use more nice people.”
“Except now people think I’m a pushover. I’m not. But I still think it’s good to be nice when you can.”
“I like the way you think. I have to admit, I’m too inward focused much of the time to be that in tune with others.” She crunched a potato chip.
“I’m a preacher’s kid. We’re raised to ‘do unto others.’ At least, I was.”
She gaped at him, another chip halfway to her mouth. “A preacher’s kid. Really? What was that like?”
“Pretty much what you’d expect—Mom and Dad and three kids, our life revolved around church activities. And sports—I played Little League baseball and high school basketball. My brother was a football and basketball star, and my sister ran track.”
“It sounds wonderful. My mom left when I was five. Dad married Darinda a few years later and they had Sharee right away.”
“How was that, growing up with a stepmother?”