Текст книги "Crowned and Moldering"

Автор книги: Kate Carlisle

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Oh my God,” I muttered, and started to walk away. But I couldn’t let it go. I just couldn’t. I turned around and said, “The way you’ve been yammering on and on about how much you like Cliff Hogarth and how he was always asking you out, and how you wanted to give him a job at your house? It makes Tommy look more like a suspect than I could ever be. So think about that.”

Her face turned pale. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

I couldn’t have asked for a better reaction, so I spun around and walked away as fast as I could. It wasn’t often I managed to get the last word in with Whitney and I wanted to enjoy the moment.

I kept walking and ended up at the main school building, staring up at the double doors leading inside. I didn’t want to walk back to the parking lot and take a chance on running into Whitney again, so I walked up the stairs and into the building. Maybe I would stop in and say hello to Ms. Barney.

But once inside, I leaned against the door and sighed. I didn’t know why Whitney was so determined to defend Cliff when she was supposedly such good friends with Denise. I had to think it was only because of me. Tommy refused to hire anyone else to do the work on their house but me, and Whitney didn’t like that one bit. She wanted Cliff. Or anyone else, for that matter. Anyone except me.

And that was too darned bad.

“You look like you’re hiding from someone.”

I turned around and smiled. “Hello, Mr. Jones.”

“Hello, Shannon.” He glanced out the window. “Who are you hiding from?”

If only I could tell the truth, but instead I continued to smile and told a small fib. “I’m waiting for someone, but it looks like they’ll be late.” My smile faded as I realized what he’d been through today. “Is Denise okay, Mr. Jones? I’m so worried about her.”

“She’ll be fine,” he said somberly. “She’s home, resting.”

“Home? Oh, I’m so glad. I thought the police might . . . Well. I’m glad she’s home.”

“You thought they might arrest her for attacking that blackmailing scumball?” He touched my arm. “I’m sorry for that. Pardon my language. It’s not very charitable of me. But no, she’s not being arrested. The police believe she hit him in self-defense. And fortunately Hogarth is still alive, so we’ll have to wait and see what happens.”

I’d never heard him utter a harsh word before, so I knew he had to be upset. “If she needs a character reference, I’ll be happy to talk to Chief Jensen.” I gave a slight shrug. “Not that I’m anyone special, but every little bit helps.”

“That’s not true. You’re very special, Shannon. And I appreciate it.” He gave me a tired smile, and I thought how hard this had to be on him. “I’ll let you know if we need any extra help.”

“Okay.” I gazed out the window again. “Well, I guess I’d better go back to work. Maybe my friend meant to meet me at the parking lot. That’s where I can usually be found most days.” Another fib, but I didn’t feel bad about it.

“I have a free period, so I’ll walk with you.” He pushed open the door and we strolled down the stairs together. The wind had picked up and I zipped my vest closed.

“I was going to stay home with her,” he said, “but Denise told me to go back to work because I was driving her crazy. I think I’m more nervous than she is.”

“I don’t blame you. It must have been terrifying to hear what happened.”

“Yes, that’s the perfect word for it.” He shook his head as if to shake off the bad vibes and gazed around at the beautiful campus. “You’re making excellent progress on the parking lot.”

“It’s coming along pretty well.”

“It’s nice to see Sean Brogan hard at work every day,” he said. “He always says hello.”

“He’s a great team player,” I said, pushing my windswept hair off my face. “I’m lucky to have him on my crew.”

“The Brogan children overcame a lot of obstacles,” he murmured. “Their father was a real brute.”

“Did you ever have to deal with him?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyes narrowed in thought. “I had a few run-ins with Hugh Brogan. The man was a true bully. He considered his children his property, his chattel, really. He refused to take advice from anyone else.”

“You tried to talk to him?”

“Yes, about Lily.” His jaw tightened. “It didn’t go well.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too.” He stared across the greenbelt and I wondered if he was looking into the past. “I just . . . I just wish Lily had been given the chance to get that scholarship and go to college as she’d always dreamed of doing.”

“I wish she had, too. She was so smart and talented, she could’ve done anything she wanted with her life.”

“True.” Mr. Jones checked his wristwatch and sighed. “I’d better get back to the classroom.”

“Thank you for walking with me. Please let Denise know that my thoughts are with her.”

“I will.” He smiled. “Thank you, Shannon. It’s always great to talk to you.” He turned and jogged back to school.

*   *   *

I came home from work a grungy mess, covered with dirt from head to toe. I jumped into the shower to wash my hair and scrub myself clean, and when I’d dried myself off and put on fresh clothes, I felt so much better. I was filling the animals’ bowls with water and wondering what to do about dinner when the doorbell rang and I ran to answer it. “Eric, hi. What a surprise.”

“Hello, Shannon.” He was leaning against the porch railing, looking casually gorgeous in his distressed-leather bomber jacket. “Was there something you wanted to tell me?”

“Me? I don’t think so.”

He took a step closer and said, “Something about a conversation you had with Cliff Hogarth?”

Understanding dawned. “Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

I held up both hands in a sign of capitulation. “I can explain.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Okay, look. My crew guy Douglas had just told me that Cliff had offered him a bunch of money to leave me and go work with him. And I freaked out. That was the last straw. I was going to read Cliff the riot act, so I tracked him down to the Inn on Main Street and told him what I thought of him.”

“An eyewitness says you threatened him.”

“Maybe a little.”

Eric shook his head. “So where’d you go after that?”

“I, um, drove out to the Gardens and talked to Denise.” I frowned. “Why? We just talked. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t say you did. I just have another question or two.” He glanced over my shoulder at the front door. “May I come in for a minute?”

“Oh, sure.” I held the door open until he was inside, then shut it securely. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks.”

I gestured toward the two chairs by the bay window. “Have a seat. How can I help?”

He took off his jacket and tossed it on the couch before sitting down, then pulled a small notepad from his pocket and opened it. “I wanted to know if Denise Jones said anything to you yesterday that made you think she might have a grudge against Cliff Hogarth.”

“A grudge? But you can’t think she actually planned to hit him. He attacked her. She bashed his head in self-defense.”

“We only have her word that it happened that way.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to remember our conversation, then looked over at him. “I won’t pretend we didn’t talk about Cliff, because I drove straight from my confrontation with him to the Gardens, where I ran into Denise.”

“Why did you go to see her?”

“I didn’t. I just went to stroll around the Gardens. It’s pretty and peaceful out there, and I go sometimes when I need to think or unwind. And I needed to do both yesterday.”

“So you walked around for a little while and then you ran into Denise?”

“That’s right. I wasn’t going to say a word about Cliff, but we got to talking and I ended up telling her what had happened. She basically admitted that Cliff was always a troublemaker, even back in high school. He was always pushing people’s buttons.”

“Guess he pushed a few of yours.”

“You could say that. Denise agrees with me that Cliff’s timing is interesting. Why did he suddenly move back to town barely two months before we discovered Lily’s body?”

“Did she think the two events were connected?”

“She did. And I’ve been thinking about this. Cliff was in real estate. He could’ve heard that the lighthouse mansion had been sold and that someone would be moving in soon. He knew Lily’s body would be discovered and he decided he’d better be nearby when it happened.”

“Did Denise say that?”

“No. I’m saying it now to you. It’s just something to think about.” I glanced at him. “Also, just so you know, all the time I was talking to Denise, I was thinking I’d have to call and tell you everything she said.”

He was scribbling rapidly. “But you didn’t.”

“You didn’t give me a chance.” He shot me one of his looks, and I quickly added, “It’s only been a day since I was out there talking to her. So much has happened since then, I’ve lost track.”

As he wrote something down, I added, “Did Denise tell you we talked?”

“She mentioned it.”

“So you were hoping I’d corroborate her story.”

I got another of his looks.

“One thing you should know,” I continued, “is that I was the one ranting about Cliff, not Denise. She was the one who calmed me down and changed the subject. She didn’t want to feed my anger, as she put it. So we talked about cooking. And rats. Nothing that would interest you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You talked about rats?”

“Mm-hmm.” I smiled. “We talked about Dismal Dain and how he used to take care of Mr. Jones’s biology-class rats during school vacations. Just one more disturbing aspect of Mr. Dain’s odd personality.”

*   *   *

A little while later, after Eric left, Callie went to the library with her girlfriends—and, yes, they were actually going to the library to study, she insisted. Mac and I stayed home and grilled steaks. We had potatoes baking in the oven, and while I prepared a salad, we talked more about Aldous Murch and his tale of the housemaid who was assaulted.

“With Betsy’s sad story and the discovery of Lily’s bones, I might have to bring in a coven of witches to cleanse the place,” Mac said.

“Not a bad idea,” I replied.

“So, you are the hero of the hour,” he said, holding up his wineglass in a toast. “Despite all the grisly details, I think congratulations are in order. You broke through that wall and found a whole new section of the house. That’s amazing.”

“It’s an uncomfortably small section, but yes. It has a parlor with a fireplace, and there’s a narrow staircase going up to the second floor. It’s a hazard right now and I wouldn’t trust anyone to walk on it, but once it’s been reinforced, you can use it as a back staircase.”

“Cool. Good work, Irish.” He reached over and clinked his glass against mine for a second time. “Cheers.”

“Thanks.” I sipped my wine. “I think Aldous was happy.”

“That’s even better than plain old good work. That’s awesome work.”

I smiled at his accolades. “Thanks, Mac.”

“And now I have even more history and mystery to add to my article. This is amazing.”

And he doesn’t even know the true motive behind Lily’s death, I thought. But he would. The truth about her pregnancy would have to be revealed before long. Otherwise, a murderer would go free.

Chapter Fourteen

I spent the next day at the lighthouse mansion, where I continued to demolish Mac’s kitchen. It felt darn good to be destroying things—in a constructive way, of course.

Carla joined in the fun and together we managed to pull out the heavy cast-iron sink and set it outside the kitchen door. I’d hired a forklift to carry the heaviest stuff over to the Dumpster a few dozen yards up the road. This sink, on the other hand, would be taken directly to my truck. I planned to restore it and use it in another lucky house—or, at the very least, I’d refashion it to use as a quirky planter in my garden.

“Hey, Shannon,” Carla said, trying to get my attention over the hammering and pounding.

“Yeah.” I set down the sledgehammer and grabbed my water bottle. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking about the dumbwaiter,” she said, and rapped her knuckles against the old sliding door. “I think we’d be smart to go ahead and refurbish the internal mechanisms, replace the tray, and make sure the trolley system is operating. And then Mac can make his decision about the style of the outer frame any time he wants.”

I stared at the dumbwaiter wall. The shaft itself couldn’t be enlarged without damaging the structural integrity of the wall, so Mac would have to live with the dumbwaiter size as it was. And as far as I knew, the size was fine with him.

“Good idea,” I said, taking a long sip of water. “I’ll stop by the hardware store tonight and order the parts we need.”

After that, I got caught up in the demolition until Carla reminded me that it was quarter to four.

“Oh, shoot. I’ve got to run.” I put my tools away and grabbed my jacket and purse. “See you tomorrow.”

“Have a good one, boss.”

“You, too.” I ran to my truck, drove over to the school, and parked, just as the digital clock on the dashboard hit four o’clock. I jogged over to check out my guys’ work on the parking lot while I waited for Callie.

I waved to Wade. “It’s starting to look better around here.”

“We’ve cleared most of the asphalt, as you can see.” He swiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Tomorrow the geotech team will be back to test the subsurface and make sure the conditions of the soil deep beneath the asphalt are stable and good to go.”

The geotechnical engineers were an important part of the whole picture. They’d already determined there were no soil issues around the perimeter, and now they would decide if the soil under the existing site would play nicely with the aggregate layer the company planned to lay down. That layer would be followed by the asphalt base layer and finally the asphalt surface layer. If it wasn’t compatible—if there was, say, too much clay or too much iron—they would add more of some other mineral until everything was copacetic.

It was a complicated process and I didn’t pretend to know exactly how they came up with their formulations. I was just glad they were paying attention.

“I’d hate to sink that water tank into the earth,” I said, “and find out later that some corrosive element down there had eaten right through it.”

“Exactly,” Wade said. “The SolarLight people won’t let that happen.”

“They are a really smart bunch,” I said.

“Yeah. I hope we can work with them again.”

I smiled. “If Ms. Barney has her way, the school board will eventually turn all the parking lots solar and probably some of the outside lunch areas.”

“I like it,” he said, grinning.

My phone buzzed and I excused myself to check it. There was a text from Callie saying that she would be a few minutes late. She was still talking to her homeroom teacher.

I glanced up at Wade. “I think I’ll walk over to the school and meet Callie.”

“I’ll get back to the cleanup, then. See you later, boss.”

I headed for the main building, hoping I’d run into Callie on the way. Then again, if I made it as far as the classroom, I’d be able to say hello to Mr. Jones. I was curious to find out how Denise was doing.

On the way, I thought about Cliff, still clinging to life in the hospital. What would happen when he recovered? Would he go back to being a jerk or would he be chastened? Everyone would know that he’d tried to blackmail Denise, who was a beloved lifelong resident of Lighthouse Cove. How would he be able to face anyone? Never mind; I knew the answer. He would bluster and lie his way through, because that was what he’d been doing since high school.

By the time he’d finished, Cliff would have Denise looking like some chainsaw-wielding serial killer from a B movie.

And thinking of Cliff made me wonder for the umpteenth time why or what, exactly, he’d been trying to blackmail Denise over.

I didn’t run into Callie out on the walkway, so I kept going to Mr. Jones’s homeroom class. The door was closed, so I peeked inside through the reinforced-glass square. Mr. Jones sat at his desk in the front of the room and Callie stood talking to him.

She looked so pretty in a simple blue sweater and jeans, with her long blond hair worn in a single braid down her back. Mr. Jones, as always, was sweet and handsome and interested in whatever she had to say. But I was most struck by the look on Callie’s face. If I had to put a name to it, I’d call it adoration.

Strange, but I was almost afraid to interrupt their conversation. I went ahead, though, and knocked on the door and walked inside. “Hi, you two.”

“Hello, Shannon,” Mr. Jones said.

“Hi, Mr. Jones.” I gazed at Callie. “Are you ready to go, Callie?”

She winced. “Shannon, I’m so sorry. I should’ve texted you again. I’m going to stay for rehearsals and hang out with Sarah for a while. Uncle Mac said he’d pick me up in a few hours. Do you mind?”

“Not a bit,” I assured her, then turned to Mr. Jones. “I hope Denise is feeling better.”

“She is, and she so appreciates your thoughtfulness.”

“I’m glad.” I smiled, feeling oddly awkward. I wasn’t sure what it was that made this moment feel a little peculiar. It wasn’t just seeing the way Callie was looking at him. It was more than that. But since I couldn’t put my finger on it, I just took a deep breath and let it go. “Okay, I guess I’ll see you both later.”

They waved, and I turned to leave the classroom just in time to see Dismal Dain standing across the hall, staring straight into the classroom at Mr. Jones. Or was he looking at Callie? He wore an ugly glower, and it didn’t matter which of them he was looking at. Either way, it wasn’t a good thing. Dain’s mouth was sullen and his eyes were dulled by bitterness. Maybe it was my imagination, but he looked a lot like one of those rats he was so fond of.

I glared back at him. There was no way I would allow that spooky excuse for a counselor to stare at Mac’s niece with such animosity. And I was worried for Mr. Jones, too. I wondered if Dain made a habit of staring at Mr. Jones like that. Finally Dain gave a scornful sniff and skulked off, leaving me to wonder what was wrong with his mind.

Was he jealous that the students liked Mr. Jones? I certainly hoped he didn’t intend to “counsel” Callie anytime soon.

I glanced back and realized that Mr. Jones and Callie hadn’t even noticed Dismal was watching them. Brad Jones was so in tune with his students, but I wondered if he had ever noticed the counselor staring at him from across the hall.

By the time I got to my truck, I was feeling antsy and out of sorts and not ready to call it a day. I was worried about Callie because of that look I’d seen on Dismal’s face. The man was like a cautionary tale about the scary neighbor down the street whose house was always dark and whose yard was covered in dead plants and trees. Your parents always warned you not to venture too close. . . .

And there went my imagination again. But, honestly, how creepy was it that he was standing there glaring at Mr. Jones and Callie? Very creepy, indeed! High school seemed to be even more of a soap opera than I remembered. As for Dismal, it was hard to shake off the miasma that seemed to follow him around like a dark cloud and envelop everyone else in the vicinity.

I stopped at a red light and glanced over at the passenger’s seat. There was my tablet with my list of things to do. And that reminded me of the one thing I hadn’t done. I’d promised Carla I’d order supplies for the dumbwaiter tonight, but I’d completely forgotten to get the measurements I needed.

I made a U-turn and drove the short distance out to the lighthouse mansion. Despite its many twists and turns and wide curves, the three-mile drive north relaxed me and took my mind off of all the people who had been in my face lately. Like Mr. Dain and Cliff and Whitney. Although, to be fair, I had been in Cliff’s face as much or more than he’d been in mine, only because he seemed just as happy to stab you in the back as face you head-on.

Since I was wearing my Bluetooth, I gave Mac a quick call to let him know I’d seen Callie briefly. I didn’t mention Dismal Dain’s odd presence in the hall.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I’m driving out to the mansion to get a few measurements. Then I’m stopping at the hardware store to pick up some things.”

“Any chance we can have dinner together later? I had a craving for pasta, and the red sauce is cooking as we speak.”

“I am very fond of red sauce, as you know.”

I could almost hear him grinning over the phone. “And I’m very fond of you.”

“Oh.” I was surprised and happy and bashful all of a sudden. “Well, likewise.”

He chuckled and the sound was amazingly intimate. “Be careful out there, Irish. Hurry home.”

“Okay.” I disconnected the call and sighed. Maybe when Callie went back home, he and I could take up where we’d left off. Wherever that was.

I turned onto Old Lighthouse Road and bumped along over the potholes and cracks for a quarter of a mile until I reached the big house at the end of the road. There were still a few cars parked over by the massive, towering lighthouse, so I figured it was still open for business a while longer. Perhaps some tourists were up at the top, enjoying the sunset. I envied them.

Standing outside of my truck, I breathed the sea air and let my gaze sweep across the water. A few sailboats skimmed the surface, but the water was turning choppy, with white froth slapping into the air. I heard the waves pounding at the rocks beyond the lighthouse and it sounded like a heartbeat, with its comforting, steady rhythm.

For some reason, the air here felt cleaner than in town, even though my house was only a few blocks from the shore. Maybe it was the fact that there were no stores and streets in the way. Out here, there was nothing standing between me and the immense ocean.

I crossed the wide, scruffy lawn and unlocked the door. It was getting dark, and I flipped on a few lights as I made my way back to the kitchen to examine the dumbwaiter. The counters were gone, so I set my tablet and purse on the floor and pulled out my pocket tape measure.

As I measured the space and made a list of the hardware we would have to replace, I was careful not to look down into the basement below. It still gave me chills to think of Lily’s bones lying there. Instead I forced myself to study and admire the interior design of the dumbwaiter. I loved quirky Victorian contraptions like those, and Mac’s mansion was filled with them. I was determined to renovate this house so beautifully that Mac would never connect death and murder to his new home.

Being Mac, though, he would clearly relish those very things I was trying to gloss over.

I leaned farther into the dumbwaiter shaft to measure the panel on the far side of the opening. I froze when I thought I heard something.

I pulled my head out of the chamber and the sound disappeared. I wondered if I had imagined it.

I stuck my head back inside the shaft and heard it again. Something was scraping against an interior wall of the house. Was it being amplified inside the dumbwaiter?

“Oh, God.” I pulled out and stood up straight. I couldn’t hear anything out here, so I poked my head back into the dumbwaiter shaft and heard it again.

Darn it, why had I come back here alone? Why weren’t any of my crew working late today? I was suddenly leery of being in a place I’d known my whole life. And I didn’t like the feeling.

Had a new family of rodents moved into the house? I trembled at the thought. Then again, maybe it was only a tree branch brushing against the outside wall or the roof.

I stood up straight and tried very carefully to hear the sound again. But there was nothing. I heard it only inside the dumbwaiter, so I stuck my head inside the thing again. And now I could hear the distinct murmur of a human voice.

I wasn’t alone in the house.

More shivers flitted and leaped over every inch of my skin, covering me from the top of my head to my ankles. Truly, I could feel my ankles shaking. I had chills on top of the shivers, and now I had a choice of running screaming out of there or investigating whoever else was inside Mac’s house with me.

If anyone had been watching me, I knew what they’d be thinking: I could also call the police. But if I dragged Eric out here for nothing, I’d look crazier than he already thought I was.

But if I didn’t drag Eric out here and something happened . . .

I compromised and sent a text to let him know where I was and that I was checking out some odd noises. He could make the next move.

I had already run screaming out of the house once before when I saw that tiny rat a while ago, so call me cuckoo, but I was determined not to leave until I found out what was going on. I wasn’t sure if the noises had come from upstairs or from the basement, but I felt safer checking upstairs first.

I tiptoed across the foyer and quietly climbed the stairs, unsure if the talking had come from the second floor or the attic. It had to be the second floor, I reasoned, because I really didn’t want to go all the way up to the attic. That made a perfect kind of sense to me. Didn’t it?

As I got closer to the top of the stairs I could hear the mumbled words growing louder. Prepared to run at any second, I took a tentative step onto the second-floor landing and was shocked to see someone down the hall by the laundry chute.

“Aldous?”

The old man jolted, then turned and grinned at me. “Shannon! I was looking for the spot on the second floor where the old staircase would’ve been and couldn’t find a trace. They walled over the doorway. Did a good job, too.” He held up what looked like an old backpack. “So, I was looking around up here and I found this. It was stuck in the laundry chute.”

It took me a full minute to catch my breath from being frightened half to death. “Aldous, what’re you doing here all alone? How did you get here?”

“My granddaughter has some friends visiting and she brought them up here to see the lighthouse. I hitched a ride, but I couldn’t make the climb up to the top of the lighthouse. So while the girls went exploring, I wandered over here. The back door was open, so I figured, What the heck? Thought I’d take a look around.”

“All righty.” Relief flooded through me. My intruder was no more than a curious old man who had vivid memories of this house. But my breath remained stilted as I led the way downstairs to the kitchen, where the lights were brightest and we could see exactly what he’d found in the chute.

“I guess you saw the kitchen demolition in progress,” I said.

“Sure did,” he said, looking around. “It’s a real mess you’ve got here, Shannon. I hope you show me what it looks like when you’ve worked your magic on it.”

“Promise. Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.” I turned on the light that had once shone over the now-departed sink, and he held up the backpack. I unlatched the wide front pocket and pulled out a school notebook.

“Must be some kid’s,” he said.

“Yeah.” But I already knew whose it was as I flipped the notebook open. The first page was covered in doodles and flowery writing that looked like a young girl’s. Here and there on the page were hearts drawn around the initials BJ and LB.

“Lily Brogan,” I murmured. But who was BJ? I mentally scanned the list of boys who’d been in school with Lily and couldn’t think of anyone with those initials. And suddenly my heart stuttered in my chest. Not a boy. A man. And a teacher. “Brad Jones.”

“What’s that?” Aldous said.

“Nothing,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. “Sorry, Mr. Murch. I was just thinking out loud.”

And I hated what I was thinking. It doesn’t have to mean anything, I tried to convince myself. Every girl in school had had a crush on Mr. Jones. There had to be a dozen girls who’d encircled their initials with his when doodling in notebooks. We all imagined ourselves walking down the aisle with him.

But Lily had gone missing. Lily had been pregnant. And Lily had drawn little hearts with Mr. Jones’s initials on her notebooks. It couldn’t be true, could it?

But no matter what I told myself, I knew it had to be true. Brad Jones had to have been the father of Lily’s baby.

Now that I accepted that thought, I kept remembering little clues, little things that had happened lately. Mr. Jones had known that Lily had been trying to get a scholarship. He’d talked about it just the other day when he mentioned that her father had been such a bully.

Sean had told me that Lily had refused to tell anyone about her dream of college after being discouraged by Dismal Dean’s remarks. Had Mr. Jones known about her dream before Dean did?

I suddenly knew why I’d had that peculiar feeling when I saw Callie talking to Mr. Jones earlier. It was the look of teenage worship on her face. I’d seen that look so many times over the years whenever I saw Mr. Jones talking to a teenage girl.

I was reminded of a day back in high school when I happened to see Lily talking to Mr. Jones in his classroom. But rather than an artless, adolescent crush, the look on Lily’s face had revealed so much more. She had looked positively radiant, mature, and deeply in love. And I knew now, as surely as I knew my own name, that Lily had been pregnant with Mr. Jones’s child.

Not that those few minor facts alone were the reason I believed what I did. But added to all that was the fact that Cliff Hogarth had tried to blackmail Denise. It made me wonder if Cliff had known that Brad Jones was the father of Lily’s baby.

But how did Cliff even find out that Lily was pregnant? Did she tell him? I couldn’t imagine she would.

Putting those thoughts aside, I returned to the backpack. Opening the main pocket, I could clearly see a flimsy blouse and a balled-up pair of jeans. There were possibly shoes and socks and underwear beneath the jeans, but I didn’t want to disturb the contents any more than I already had.

“Mr. Murch,” I said, “let’s go find your granddaughter and get you back to town.”

“That would be swell, Shannon.” He rubbed his stomach. “I’m getting a little peckish, now that you mention it.”

For me, that red sauce Mac had promised didn’t sound quite so appetizing anymore.

*   *   *

Once I dropped off Mr. Murch, I swung by the police station to see Eric. He didn’t seem surprised that I was bringing him a key piece of evidence.