Chapter 19
I jogged toward Selene with my hand in the air and called her name again. “Selene!”
She turned back from the curb like she just remembered her name. “Elenore, is everything okay?”
Her eyes watched at me, but she looked like she was focused on something far in the distance. If I wasn’t a hundred and ten percent sure she killed Lisa and Casey, I’d call it grief. But serial killers didn’t grieve for their victims.
Probably.
I wasn’t a hundred percent sure on that part of it, but I’d Google it later.
“No, everything is fine in the rental. I just wanted to see if you are doing okay after losing Casey,” I said and stared at the giant, hard-sided suitcases beside her.
She shook her head and swallowed. All signs of a killer trying to avoid jail time. “I’m going to stay with Samantha for a while. She doesn’t want me to be alone right now.”
Oh, that actually made sense. Samantha was so sweet. It’s just too bad she had a killer for a sister.
“Is she in the city?” Hopefully close enough that when I put the clues together against Selene, the police could pick her up quickly. I positioned myself between her two suitcases to make it harder for her to leave.
If this was my last chance to talk to her, I had to make it worth it.
She nodded at my question. “She’s on the south side. I can’t handle all the memories in this place. It’s too much. Casey is everywhere.”
It was his house, but I didn’t say that part out loud.
And I bet the memories of her dead boyfriend haunted her. She probably had an Edgar Allen Poe heart under the floorboards thing going on in there.
“I’m sure,” I said, trying to fake some sympathy toward her. “Who will watch the house while you’re gone?”
“I can’t even think of that right now,” she said, her head on a swivel. She was overplaying the grief if you asked me. She even sniffled right on cue, and I swear she had tears in the corners of her eyes.
It wasn’t polite to cry over the man you killed. Was she this upset when she knocked off his mother?
A blue Honda Odyssey pulled up to the curve. They had a Lyft sticker in the corner of their front windshield. Selene turned toward the car and gave the driver a quick wave. He got out and opened the back door.
Shit. I had to move.
I repositioned myself in front of her big case. The driver walked around the van and pulled the first suitcase toward the back. I scanned the road in both directions, hoping I’d see Reed walking home. He’d save me.
How did I keep her here and get her to confess to killing Casey at the same time?
“I know you killed Casey,” I blurted when the driver started for the bag behind me. His eyes widened, and he stopped beside his car, his gaze on Selene. It appeared I’d gone for the direct approach, and it worked.
Selene stared at me with her mouth ajar. Her face turned an ashy white color. “What?”
I’d already gone this far down the rabbit hole. I needed to finish the job. “Yes, you killed him for the house. It’s probably worth millions.”
“You think I killed Casey?” she asked, sniffling over every word. “I loved Casey.”
I stepped closer to the luggage and put my arm behind me to hold on to it. She was not getting away. “Yes.”
“I don’t get the house,” she said full out crying. She was either the world’s best actress—like get her an Oscar—or it’s possible she didn’t kill Casey. “It goes to his uncle in Ashville.”
“Ashville?” Why hadn’t anyone mentioned this uncle earlier? Before I went on my wild conspiracy witch hunt. My complete assurance she killed Casey and Lisa splintered.
She nodded. “Casey was the love of my life. Losing him is losing everything good in this world.”
Holy crap, her words and sobs rubbed a hole in my heart. Those two had the real deal.
But I still had so many questions.
“Did he know your dad built the riverside condos? That he tried to buy this place?” How did she explain her family connections? I repositioned myself and grabbed the suitcase again.
The driver of the car stood patiently by the side of the road. I waited for him to pull out his phone and start recording. He’d go viral.
“No,” she said, her voice growing firm. “And there was no need. Richard is no longer my father. He lost those privileges because I chose Casey over my family. That’s how deeply I loved him.”
Oh, no. Did I make a colossal mistake?
“Let me tell you about my sperm donor.” She marched toward me and I stepped to the side of the luggage.
Real grief or not, if she came at me, I was not above pushing the Empire State Building of Luggage at her before running.
“Richard divorced my mother after moving us to this town ten years ago. You’re never accepted in the South if you’re not from here.
No one was ever nice to me—except Casey.
“He didn’t care about my missing Southern accent or anything else. He just loved me for me.” She thumped her hand against her chest.
I flinched.
Reed was going to kill me when if he ever made it home—first for leaving the rental and second for accusing a grieving woman of murder. I inched backward toward our door, hoping to leave the situation before he got home. Then we’d never have to talk about it.
“But Dad…” She put a heavy sarcastic tilt on Dad. “Couldn’t handle it.”
“He didn’t like Casey?” I asked. Sure, I was still scared for my life, but Selene was also an excellent storyteller.
She grunted. “He never even met him. Dear old Daddy didn’t want me falling in love with a poor man, so he cut me off.”
Damn, how rich was Selene’s family because Casey wasn’t close to poor in my definition. His mother was in the garden club. Poor people didn’t have time for garden clubs. I knew because I’d never been in one, and I had first-hand knowledge of lack of money.
“No loss,” she said, continuing on with her explanation. “He’s no longer my father. I lost everything for Casey, and I have no regrets. Now excuse me.” She pushed past me, grabbed the handle on her enormous suitcase and rolled it toward the van.
The driver jumped to action and took it from her halfway. Selene had herself buckled into the back seat of the van and the door closed before I thought of an apology. They drove off, and I slunk back toward the house, glad Reed missed my epic embarrassment.
I struggled with the latch on the gate. Damn, maybe Selene didn’t kill Lisa or Casey. But then who did? The gate closed behind me as the porch lights automatically turned on from the darkening sky.
Anxiety about the approaching night crept up the back of my neck, tightening my chest. I needed Reed to return with Torin, so I had company—and people with guns. If Selene wasn’t the killer, the person responsible for two deaths was still out there.
I opened the door and slipped inside, closing and locking it behind me. If Selene didn’t kill Lisa or Casey, who did?
I’d have to pour over the articles again. Maybe we’d overlooked another clue.
“Oh, shit.” I stopped dead in my tracks on the other side of the door.
The articles!
They were gone. Along with all the other important papers I’d had on the table. Delaney’s notes, the wild theory from James, and even my laptop from the coffee table in the living room were gone.
Who in the hell would have gotten in the rental and stolen all my stuff in the twenty minutes I was outside with Selene? How did we not see them? My heart beat in triple time, hitting against my chest.
What if they were still here?
“Reed?” I called out, inching back toward the front door.
I pulled out my phone and sent him a text asking when he’d be back, but he didn’t reply.
“Reed?” I called again. Still nothing.
If someone was in the house and wanted to kill me, they’d probably have already done it.
I crept through the front room, ready to inspect the kitchen.
My feet stalled in front of my bedroom door.
It was shut, but another torn piece of newspaper attached to the wood with a silver thumbtack stared at me.
The bottom edge of the paper smacked against the door as the air from the ceiling fan picked it up and then released it in a rhythmic pattern.
“Reed?” I tried again. They said the third time was the charm. I checked my cell phone for a return text while I inched toward the door.
Big black letters matching the ones used on the last note were written across the middle of the paper.
Bonaventure Bluff—30 minutes.
Reed wouldn’t like this. He wouldn’t like it at all.
I checked my phone, but still no answer. What was I supposed to do?
We needed those notes to make the report for Delaney. I had to solve this case. Even if I didn’t catch the actual killer, I’d prove to everyone that I wasn’t a screwup. People could trust me with things, and I’d get the job done.
Hell, I had to prove it to myself.
Screw it. The risk was worth it. I’d apologize to Reed, Delaney, and my mother later.
I left the torn newspaper on the table next to a note for Reed, written on a piece of paper from the small notepad in my nightstand drawer.
Gone to Bonaventure Bluff to meet the killer.
Come save me.
—Elenore