Death is in the Details Page 8
The park was where we smoked marijuana for the first time. We were sophomores. A friend of Ethan’s had given him a joint, and we decided that we would try it together.
“I’ll go first,” he had said. “If I get sick or something, you can take me to the hospital and tell everyone you tried to talk me out of it.”
But he didn’t get sick. We both smoked the joint, and we laughed harder than we’d ever laughed before. That was the day that Ethan admitted to me that he’d tried to talk his father out of marrying my mother.
“Why would you do that?” I asked. “They’re in love. And they’re so happy. And now we’re brother and sister.” We were sitting on the swings, which had just been installed that year. I loved how Ethan would grab hold of my swing, pull me to him, then let go. I would swing awkwardly sideways, then back until I slammed into him.
Ethan took the joint from me and seemed to consider the fact that we were now brother and sister. After inhaling deeply, he passed the joint back. “I don’t want to be your brother. I thought you and I would end up together eventually.”
When my head jerked toward his, his eyes burned into mine. He was no longer laughing.
My smile faltered, and I choked a little on the pot smoke I had just sucked in. “You’re kidding, right?” I asked, coughing. “We were always just… friends.”
“We had been friends, but I was going to ask you to the homecoming dance our freshman year. And not as a friend. But then my dad told me he was going to ask your mom to marry him, and he said that under no uncertain circumstances was I to make a move on you. He told me my feelings were just silly teenage feelings, and that they would go away.”
“I remember that dance,” I said. “I went with Pukey Phillip Pearse.”
Ethan laughed. It was under his breath, and it didn’t seem sincere. “I know. I told him to ask you.”
I punched Ethan’s upper arm, trying to bring the conversation back to light and airy. “Why did you do that? I didn’t like him at all.”
“I know you didn’t.” He smiled. “But I knew you wouldn’t hurt his feelings. And I knew I wouldn’t be jealous of Pukey Phillip Pearse.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“My dad was wrong. My feelings aren’t going away.” Ethan held my swing in place, close to him. His hand rested along the inside of my thigh, his thumb rubbing a spot just above my knee. “Just for one moment, I want to remember the fact that we aren’t related by blood and pretend that our parents’ marriage hasn’t made us family.”
His eyes were the color of midnight, and they bored into mine with a look of lust. No, not lust. Love. Ethan loved me. And in that moment, high on a tiny amount of marijuana, I thought that Ethan and I would always have a bond. We would always be connected. But we would never act on the feelings we shared.
Ethan later blamed his confession on the marijuana; he said he clearly hadn’t been of his right mind. But he never denied the truth of his words, and it wouldn’t be the last time he would profess feelings for me.
When Mom picked us up that day, we giggled all the way home. She never said a word about the marijuana—not even when we ate every piece of junk food we could find, then insisted on making our own dinner right away.
But she knew.
Twelve
Aunt Leah and Uncle Henry lived in a historic home—white clapboard with a matching white picket fence—built in 1893. It wasn’t far from the heart of Paynes Creek. Uncle Henry liked living near the city fire station, and Aunt Leah was passionate about historic buildings.
I knocked first out of respect and as a warning, but then I opened the front door and yelled to Aunt Leah. She always got mad when I didn’t just come on in. This is your home, she always said. You never have to knock here. But because I was now an adult, and no longer lived with them, I felt they didn’t need me barging in unannounced.
And I hadn’t really lived here long—though it had felt like it at the time. They had helped me through months of therapy as I dealt with losing my mom, stepfather, and Ethan. I’d actually been seeing a therapist since even before Mom died—a therapist Aubrey suggested, because Aubrey was interning at her office while finishing her undergraduate degree—but the therapy became a lot more intense that last year of high school. In college, I returned to Uncle Henry’s and Aunt Leah’s during the summers, but I moved out as soon as I could afford it. Well, afford it with Finch’s help. He knew I needed my own space.
“Aunt Leah!” I yelled again as I entered the house.
“Back here,” she called.
I found her in her office in the back of the house. She did the bookkeeping for several small businesses around Paynes Creek, including a beauty shop, Bryn’s Coffeehouse, Finch’s veterinary office, a local feed store, and other businesses typical of a rural farm community. Stopping into the beauty shop and Bryn’s Coffeehouse twice a week kept her up on all the gossip.
I gave the top of her head a kiss.
“What brings you by today?” she asked.
“Do I need a reason to stop by and see my favorite aunt?”
“I’m your only aunt,” she said, continuing to work. Her eyes darted from her calculator to a yellow legal pad, where she recorded an amount. Then she set her calculator aside and peered at me over a pair of zebra-print readers perched on the end of her nose. Her eyes widened. “What happened to you?”
My fingers brushed my bruised cheekbone. “Oh, it’s nothing. I upset the mother of an accused drug trafficker in court today. Apparently she thought I was unfair in my assessment of her ‘baby’s’ guilt.” I didn’t bother to hide my sarcasm.
“Did you ice it?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” I waved her off. “Aunt Leah, you remember the night Mom was killed?” I closed my eyes a second. “What am I saying? Of course you remember. But do you remember the details? I didn’t attend the entire trial, so I never actually got to hear Ethan’s side of things—or at least what the attorney argued, since Ethan never took the stand. And the media’s coverage was so biased.”
“Biased? Ethan murdered your mother and his father in cold blood. He burned down the house to get rid of the evidence that would point to him.”
“But he pulled me out of the fire. Did you ever wonder why he saved my life?”
“Why are you bringing this up now? Has he come back to town?”
I quickly shook my head. “No. Nothing like that.” I didn’t want to tell Aunt Leah I had seen Ethan. I didn’t want to worry her. “It’s just, I’m trying to figure out some things. Despite this new evidence that caused him to be released, I still think he probably set the fire, but… why would he bother to save me if there was even a chance that I witnessed him setting the fire?”
“Well, honey, I like to think there’s good in everyone. Ethan simply had more bad than good. The bad came out when he was angry at his father and your mother for whatever reason—but the good side came out with you. He probably didn’t mean for you to get caught up in the crossfire.” She turned and resumed her work as if this were just a normal, everyday conversation.
“Maybe.” I knew Ethan had his share of darkness affecting his soul. But with his recent release from prison, and now these fires, I found myself questioning a lot of the details from that night.
Aunt Leah turned again. “How about we have some iced tea? You can take a look at this year’s proposal for the downtown Christmas decorations.”
“Is that your way of changing the subject?”
“Yes. Did it work?”
I smiled. “I’d be happy to take a look at the decorations. I’d love to make sure the decorations are tasteful and elegant and not the tacky lights that Mrs. Silverson put up a few years ago.”
“Oh, I know,” Aunt Leah said. “Weren’t those awful?”
We both laughed. I put my arm around her, and we headed for the kitchen. She hadn’t taken the place of my mother, but she sure had softened the blow of losing two of the most important people in my life.
I was on my way to Boone’s Taphouse to meet Penelope—a little early, but I would wait at the bar—when she sent me a text.
Sorry! Have to cancel. Danny threw up all over me after daycare. Temp 103.
The text about her ill three-year-old son was followed by several sick-faced emojis.
So much for girls’ night.
I took a turn and headed toward home. But when I got to the street that would take me to my house, I found myself turning left instead of right—toward the neighboring property. Although it was now inhabited by former FBI Agent Cooper Adams, everyone still called it the “Kuster Farm,” after old Mr. Kuster. Rumor had it that Cooper had been working with a renovation crew when Mr. Kuster decided to sell, so Cooper purchased it, and had lived there ever since.
It was also where Luke was staying while he was in town.
I pulled into the drive. The porch light was on, and I could see the glow of a light toward the back of the house. “This is stupid,” I said to myself. “What am I doing?” I had no excuse for being here; I didn’t even know Cooper that well. He was my brother’s age, but he and my brother had never been that close. And I had turned down Luke’s offer of dinner. Three times.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I got out of my vehicle and stepped up onto the front porch—a traditional southern porch that stretched the entire width of the house and begged for a porch swing. It looked like renovation was still underway—though most of the porch was covered in chipped paint, some portions were now raw, unpainted wood. I couldn’t help but think Cooper had better hurry and get paint on the raw wood before winter.
I lifted my hand to knock when the front door flew open.
“Oh,” Luke said when he saw me. “You’re not the pizza guy.” He peered past me as if the pizza man would appear behind me.
“No, I’m not. I…”
“Get in here. It’s getting cold out there.” He pulled me through the door, then turned and walked toward the back of the house. He was wearing a pair of jeans, a soft-looking crew-neck T-shirt, and socks. He looked extremely comfortable, as if he was in for the night.
I stared after him, wondering if I should follow.
“I thought you said you had plans,” he said. He turned and realized I hadn’t followed. “What’s wrong?”
How did I tell him that I was no good at this? That I hadn’t had a male friend in a really long time? Casual flings, yes, but… Wait a minute. That’s all this had the potential to be. Why was I making it anything more than that?
I gave my head a little shake. “Nothing. I was just… My plans were canceled. And I thought…” I was stumbling over my words.
He pretended not to notice. He raised the beer bottle in his hand. “Want one?”
I nodded. “Come on then. Cooper went to get more. I ordered pizza. You hungry?”
“I suppose?”
I followed him to the kitchen, and he handed me a beer from the fridge. Then he stepped closer and brushed his cool fingers along my cheekbone. “Doesn’t look like you’ll bruise too badly.”
I looked around. “I’d heard that Coop was fixing up the place. I like the changes he’s made so far.” I walked over to the back windows. I couldn’t see much in the dark, but I knew our homes were separated by about five acres. “It’s a big house for one person.”
“I’m sure he’s hoping that he’s not always on his own here. Or maybe he’ll fix it up and flip it.”
I faced him again. “Either of those scenarios makes sense.”
“Did you come by for a reason? And ‘just to see me’ is an acceptable answer.” He grinned. He didn’t act like a serious FBI agent when he was away from work. He was relaxed and seemed easy-going, like someone I would enjoy hanging out with—if I were the hanging-out type.
I didn’t answer his question. Instead I asked, “Why did you ask Matthew Lake if he knew the victims of the Midland fire?”
Luke took another drink of his beer while considering. When he didn’t answer, only stared at me, I continued. “You actually think you have a serial arsonist.” I lifted a finger. “Worse—you think you have a serial killer on your hands. If it were just an arsonist, he’d just be setting fires. This person is killing his victims before setting the fires.”
Just considering the possibility stirred up a rush of memories. Unable to control those visions, I stumbled backwards a little, and reached out for the kitchen island to steady myself.
“Whoa!” Luke said. He set his beer down and rushed over to me, placing a hand on my arm. “You okay?” He took the bottle from my hand. “Come sit.” He led me over to a stool on the other side of the island.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just got a little light-headed. I haven’t eaten much today.” That was a lie, of course. I stared straight ahead at a spot on the granite countertop—a new addition to the house, if I had to guess. “You don’t really think Matthew killed the Siegelmans or the Reynoldses. You as much as said that.” I was processing my thoughts, attempting to guess at the deductive reasoning Luke was using. I refocused on his eyes. “Questioning Matthew Lake was just ruling him out.”
Luke said nothing. He was just letting me talk.
Another thought popped into my head. “Why haven’t you pulled Ethan in for questioning?”
“We’re watching him.”
“Were you watching him already the night of the Reynolds fire?”
“No. We had to jump through some hoops first. The Reynolds fire helped me get the permission.”
I pressed my fingers into my forehead. “And that’s why you came here to Paynes Creek.” This was getting out of control. Why didn’t Ethan go somewhere else? Why couldn’t he have just settled in a town or state far away from here?
“I came to Paynes Creek because you had a murder that resembled at least two other cases I was investigating. I don’t know if they’re related yet.”
“But you think they are.”
The sound of the front door opening had me jumping off the barstool. Luke was standing close, and his hand went to my waist.
Coop’s voice preceded him. “Pizza, beer, and football. Is there anything bet—” He stepped into the kitchen and stopped short. “Oh, you have company.” His grin spread all the way to his eyes.
“I should go,” I said quickly. I pressed a hand into Luke’s chest to push him aside, but he didn’t budge.
“No. Have pizza with us.” Luke turned. “Coop, you know—”
“Faith Day. Of course.” He stepped forward and held out a hand.
I stepped around Luke, thankful that he dropped his hand, and shook Coop’s hand. “Good to see you, Cooper.”
“You like football?” he asked, eyeing his friend, then returning his gaze to me.
“Yes, but I…”
“Then it’s settled. You a Cowboys or Steelers fan? ’Cause that’s who’s playing.”
“Browns, actually.”
“Okay. Okay. I can live with that. You can stay.” Coop nodded, obviously teasing me. “I’ll get plates and napkins. Luke, get us all more beer.” Coop walked to the other side of the kitchen and began pulling dishes from a cabinet.
Luke turned to me. “You alright? We can leave if you’d like to talk more.”
I angled my head. “Why would you leave? I’m the one who barged in on your guys’ night.”
“There wouldn’t be a guys’ night had you not rejected me earlier.”
“He’s right,” Coop said. “I thought I saw a tear.”
Luke made a pouty face.
“You’re mocking me,” I said. There was no humor in my voice, and I imm
ediately regretted it. I just wasn’t the type of flirtatious girl these two were probably used to. And this investigation was invading my personal space a little too much. “Look, I appreciate the invite. But I really need to go.” I started for the hall, adding a quick, “It was good to see you, Cooper” as I went.
I’d made it to the front door before Luke caught up to me. “What just happened back there?”
“Nothing. I’m just not interested in staying for pizza.” Or whatever else was going on between Luke and me.
He placed his hand on the door. “Look, I think you’re interested in me. And I’m definitely interested in you. I know Ethan is a tough subject for you. We don’t have to talk about him. Not tonight.” He paused a long second. “Did I get a completely wrong signal from you?”
My pulse sped up, and I drilled the heel of my palm into the spot over my heart. I looked up at Luke, unable to hide the distress I was feeling. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
“Hey,” he said. He removed his hand from the door and cupped my cheek. “This has to do with way more than what happened here tonight, right? What’s got you so worked up?”
With his hand gone from the door, I pulled it open, ducked away from his touch, and fled before I had to answer his question.
By the time I climbed into my car, I felt utterly foolish. But I couldn’t do anything about it. Luke was right about one thing. There was some sort of attraction between us. The part that he got wrong was my willingness to do anything about it.
Thirteen
The night was still young, I was still hungry, and I didn’t want to go home. So I called Aubrey.
“You guys home?” I asked when she answered.
“I’m here. Just got home from my Pistol Packin’ Mamas meeting.”