Chapter Eighteen
Brian spent the rest of Friday trying to work up the nerve to call his parents, but before he could pull out his phone to make the call, his father called him. “You’ve been on my mind all day,” his father said. “I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
His father always said things like this—how he had felt called to stop by for a visit or make a call.
Maybe it went along with being a pastor.
Right now, the kindness in his father’s voice was enough to bring Brian to tears, but he managed to control his emotions enough to find his voice.
“I’m having a rough time right now, Dad,” he said.
“I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to call you. ”
“What’s happened? Do you need us to come to Colorado?”
The thought of his parents here in SkyCrest was both comforting and crushing. “No, you don’t need to come here. Not yet.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.”
He spoke with the same tone he had used when Brian broke a neighbor’s window with a poorly aimed baseball when he was nine, or when he had a fender bender in the family car when he was sixteen.
Brian had rarely seen his father angry, and even then the anger was never directed at his family.
“There was this girl,” he began. “She was eighteen, and I guess she had a crush on me. She started following me around at work, flirting with me. I didn’t encourage her, I swear.
I tried to tell her nicely that I wasn’t interested.
I was way too old for her. But she didn’t take it well.
She got angry. She pretended to be someone else and called in complaints about me.
I think she was upset because I rejected her.
Before I could talk to her about it, she was killed. ”
“Killed? What happened?”
“Someone murdered her. Dad, I swear I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
“But one of my ski gloves was found near her body. I lost that glove the day before she was killed. Everyone in ski patrol knew I’d been looking for it. But when the local sheriff found out the glove was mine, and when he heard I was upset because she tried to get me fired…”
“He thinks you killed this girl?” His father’s voice had taken on a hollow tone.
“He does.” He swallowed, trying to bring moisture into his dust-dry mouth. “A friend helped me find a good lawyer and she called me this morning to tell me there’s going to be a grand jury meeting next week to consider charging me. Dad, I don’t know what to do.”
“You say you have a good lawyer. You’re innocent and it doesn’t sound like law enforcement has much evidence against you. This is a difficult time, but we’ll keep praying for this to pass. And I think your mother and I should be there with you.”
“Don’t come until after the grand jury meets,” Brian said.
Coming to Colorado would mean his father would have to find someone to fill the pulpit at his church and his mother would have to find a substitute for the middle-school class she taught.
His folks were comfortable financially, but he was sure they didn’t have a lot of cushion. He hated to put them in a bind.
“All right. But remember, we’ll be praying for you. Stay strong. Do you have friends on your side?”
He thought of Chloe. And Connor and Nina and all of the ski patrol team.
They continued to address him as “Dave” in public.
Yesterday, he had spent most of his shift rerouting fencing at Top of the Mark.
It would have been easier on everyone to send Brian home.
Instead, they had rallied around him. “I do.”
“Then lean on them. And don’t be afraid to lean on us. That’s what we’re here for.”
Easy to say, but hard to do. “My attorney says a trial is going to be expensive.”
“Don’t worry about the money. We’ll figure something out.”
“I could get a public defender. I don’t want you putting your future in jeopardy for me.”
“Our children are our future. We’ll do whatever we need to do. We love you.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
He ended the call and sank into a chair.
Daisy shoved her head into his lap, her brow wrinkled in an expression of concern.
He fondled her silky ears. Talking with Dad had helped a little.
It had reminded him that for every person like the sheriff who thought him capable of murdering a girl, there were others who believed in his innocence.
He punched in Chloe’s number. “How are you doing?” he asked, as soon as she answered.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I feel better now that the locksmith has switched out the locks at my apartment and here at the shop. And I talked to Cameron Douglas again.”
The mention of the man who had filed a restraining order against Sharee had Brian sitting upright. “Did he call you?”
“No. I called him. I wanted to know if his wife hated Sharee enough to kill her. Or to hire someone else to kill her.”
“You actually asked him that?” Chloe might be quiet, but she was definitely not shy. Not when it mattered.
“I guess I was hoping to shock him into being honest with me. But he insisted his wife didn’t have anything to do with Sharee’s murder.
She was at their house with their twins and her sister the night Sharee was killed.
She’s home right now. And he’s sure she didn’t have the kind of money to hire someone to do the deed.
He’s a teacher and she’s a stay-at-home mom. ”
“So Bunny isn’t his wife in disguise.”
“I thought she might be after Darinda told me Theresa Douglas auditioned for a role in a local community theater production once. But I don’t see how Bunny and Theresa could really be the same person.
I’m beginning to think the killer is some random person who noticed Sharee out alone that night and went after her.
Maybe Bunny doesn’t even have anything to do with this. ”
“If that’s the case, the murderer is going to be really tough to track down.” The truth of the words chilled Brian.
“We’ll keep working on it,” she said.
“The sheriff’s department doesn’t seem to be doing much in that direction,” Brian said. “My lawyer called earlier to tell me there’s a grand jury convening next week to decide whether or not to indict me for murder. She wanted to warn me I would probably end up being charged.”
“No!”
“I guess they figured they’ve got their killer and they don’t have to look any further,” he said.
“I’m coming over right away,” she said. “We’ll figure this out.”
“Chloe—” He started to tell her she should think twice about hanging out with a man who might soon be arrested for murder, but she had already ended the call.
She was still a friend he could count on.
He would need other people to hold him up through this ordeal, but how long could he lean before he toppled them, too?
FOCUSING ON brIAN spurred Chloe into action. As much as she personally wanted to find out who had killed Sharee—and why—Brian’s freedom depended on finding the murderer. She greeted him at the door of his trailer with a hard hug. “How are you holding up?” she asked.
He pulled away and looked her in the eye. “I’m okay. Better, now you’re here. How are you?”
“I’m okay. I stopped by my apartment to pick up a few things. The place is still a mess, but I haven’t had time to deal with that.”
“You know you can stay here as long as you like.”
“I know. And I plan to take you up on the offer.”
He led her over to the sofa. They sat and Daisy settled on the floor at their feet. “I’m not sure Sharee was the type to ask for help,” Brian said. “I always got the impression she liked people to think she was bold and a little outrageous—the kind of person who didn’t really need help.”
“I can’t get over knowing she spent her nights wandering around town by herself when I thought she was out with friends.” Chloe rested her head on his shoulder. “Why didn’t she want to stay home with me? Was I that uninviting?”
“Did the two of you argue a lot?”
“Not really. I got on her about not letting me know where she was going, and about being a slob. But those weren’t real arguments. She was my sister, and I loved her. But now I’m afraid she didn’t know how much.” She choked back tears. Brian laced his fingers with hers.
“I’m sorry.” She struggled to pull herself together. “I came over here to support you—not the other way around.”
“You know you can always lean on me,” he said. “No matter what.”
“What can I do to help you?” she asked.
“Just being here now helps.”
“Tell me exactly what your lawyer said.”
He repeated his conversation with Pamela Barnes. “If the sheriff’s department did find Sharee’s DNA on my glove, it looks really bad,” he said. “That’s what has me most scared, and we won’t know what evidence they’re presenting until the case goes to trial.”
“Did your lawyer say if the sheriff is looking at anyone else as a suspect in Sharee’s murder?” she asked.
“I don’t think they are,” he said. “I mean, if they were still investigating, why would they move to charge me?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’ve worked really hard so far, trying to not let this get to me, but today was the worst.”
She rubbed his back, saying nothing.
“You know when it really hit me?” he asked.
“When Connor told me an out of town reporter was looking for me. Suddenly, this isn’t only a case locals are seeing in the weekly paper.
It’s something lots of people know about.
Strangers, who aren’t going to see me as Brian Weeks, ski patroller and nice guy.
To them I’ll only ever be Brian Weeks, suspected murderer. ”
The desolation in his voice chilled her. “We can’t let that happen,” she said. “We need to look even harder for more information. There must be someone who knows something, or some clue to the killer’s identity we’re missing.”
“Where?” He raked a hand through his hair. “We’ve talked to everyone we can. We found out about Sharee’s late-night wanderings, but I don’t know what to do with the information.”