Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Emotionally, she was kind of a mess. Vivi knew that Mason and her brother were doing everything they could, along with the police, to figure out not only who had killed Tyler but also who had attacked her in the parking lot.
She felt better knowing she would be staying with Mason, but her heart still hurt for Tyler.
Angry tears burned her eyes, obscuring the view from the windshield as Mason turned into her driveway and pulled to a stop next to the house.
“You okay?” he asked.
He seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to her and her emotions. She thought she had been holding it all in fairly well, but she couldn’t hide anything from him. She blinked back the moisture in her eyes and nodded as she reached for the door handle. “I'll be fine.”
Not waiting for his response and not really wanting to talk about it anymore right now, she climbed out of the car and trudged toward the house.
But instead of making her way to the front door, she cut across to the backyard and took a seat on the deck.
She had always found peace out there; Ellen’s backyard was like a tropical oasis just outside the city.
Her gaze landed on the lilies lining the fence, and a sad smile touched her mouth.
Ellen had seemed so… different that morning.
Vivi knew she was withholding information, but she didn't have the mental fortitude to confront her right now.
Besides, who knew if Ellen would even remember?
It was an uncharitable thought, but one she couldn't help.
“I helped her plant those, you know,” she said as she stared at the lilies lining the fence.
She studied the flowers, and Ellen’s words from several weeks ago floated back to her. The flowers had been Christine’s favorites, but there was something else. What was it?
Suddenly it hit her like a bolt of lightning.
She had been completely thrown by Ellen talking about Christine adoring the calla lilies that she had almost forgotten the second part of the statement—that he had hated them.
Such an odd thing to say. Was it Russ she’d spoken of?
And why bring him up at all unless it was relevant in some way?
Her heart thundered in her chest. What if Ellen hadn't been talking about Christine at all?
She remembered helping Ellen plant the lilies the summer after she moved in.
If they had been for her daughter, why wait so long?
By the time she had arrived, Christine had been dead for fifteen years.
It wasn't out of the realm of possibility, but it was just one more inconsistency that didn't fit.
She could feel Mason’s eyes on her. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Those flowers.” She nodded toward the lilies. “I helped her plant those.”
“Right...” Though she didn't look directly at him, she imagined him nodding, processing her words.
“That's not what I mean.” She shook her head and met his gaze. “I mean, she waited until years after Christine's death to plant the flowers supposedly in her memory. Why would she do that?”
Realization dawned in his eyes. Though she didn’t dream as often anymore, those visions still weren’t entirely clear.
They altered from night to night, almost as if her brain was trying to pull memories free a little at a time.
Though she never actually reached the end of the dream, there was no doubt in her mind that the two things were somehow interconnected.
“What if…” she tried again. “What if he hurt Christine, then tried the same thing with me? What would Ellen do if she found out?”
“I'd have killed him,” Mason said quietly.
She drew in a sharp breath before continuing. “And if you killed someone spur of the moment and were afraid to go to the police…”
“You would need to hide the body,” Mason supplied, his gaze sweeping across the yard and over the lilies. “And what better way to do that than bury him in her own backyard?”
He pushed to his feet and strode toward the calla lilies. “Elijah could have helped her hide the body and get rid of his things.”
“Could have.” But something still didn't fit. “Why don't I remember any of this?”
Mason shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe you weren't there that night.”
“Maybe,” she conceded as she stared up at him. “I know this sounds totally crazy.”
“Desperate people do desperate things all the time. I think anything is worth looking into.”
Mason turned and headed for the shed, and she moved toward the flowerbed.
A moment later, he appeared by her side and passed her a shovel.
A twinge of guilt assailed her as she sank the tip of the spade into the earth and uprooted a half dozen bulbs.
If they were wrong, she was going to feel absolutely terrible about this. But she needed to know for sure.
An hour later, hot and sweaty, they had made decent progress. The hole they’d dug was about ten feet long and a foot deep. The deeper they went, the thicker and heavier the dirt was.
“I'm going to grab a water.” She set her shovel aside and looked at Mason. “Do you want one?”
He wiped the back of his wrist across his forehead. “Please. I'll keep going.”
She headed into the kitchen and poured two glasses of ice water for Mason and herself.
Just as she was getting ready to take them back outside, a knock from the front door drew her attention.
Her entire body went rigid as she froze.
It was rare for anyone to show up unannounced, and she knew that Mason and she weren't expecting anyone.
Quietly she headed through the living room, making her way toward the front door at an angle, taking care to stay away from all of the windows.
She peeked through the little sliver of glass between the curtain and the window frame, and a man's form came into view. As he turned around, Harrison Grant’s profile came into view.
She let out the breath she'd been holding and opened the door. “Harrison.”
He turned toward her, a smile on his face. “Virginia. So good to see you. I saw the vehicle in the driveway, but I thought I’d missed you.”
“We’re here,” she said, keeping her body in the open doorway. “What brings you by?”
“I felt so terrible after that encounter in our office. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“It's funny you said that. Elijah actually stopped by a couple of weeks ago and apologized. We both put it behind us and have moved on.”
“Good,” he said, his voice full of relief. “I'm glad to hear that.”
His icy blue eyes landed on her hand where it rested along the doorjamb, and his head tipped slightly to the side. She followed his gaze to the dirt beneath her fingernails and fought the urge to curl her hand into a fist to hide them from view.
“Looks like I caught you in the middle of something.” He chuckled.
“Just doing some landscaping,” she said, keeping her voice light.
“I hope you've been taking care of the flowers. Ellen loves them.”
“I know.” She swallowed hard, unease slithering down her spine.
Those eyes turned hard and cold as he studied her. “What are you doing in the yard, Virginia?”
She hesitated, and a frown marred his handsome face. “I really hoped I wouldn't have to do this.”
Before she could process his words, Harrison lifted a black pistol he'd pulled from his waistband and aimed it at her face.