“Guess I’d better call and figure out how much a rental car will set me back,” she said. It wasn’t what he’d expected her first thought to be. “Not that I have a few hundred dollars just sitting in the bank for that expense.”
“Check with your auto insurance first. It might be covered.”
“Crap.” She dropped her face to her hands, her blond ponytail bouncing up. “Which reminds me of the five hundred dollar deductible I’ll need to cough up. And adding to the growing tally of expenses, I still have Vi’s birthday party coming up and her gift to buy.” She raised her face and pushed back some of the wisps of her hair that had fallen forward. Even tormented, she was pretty. Almost to herself, she mused, “Actually, maybe I can try and get by without a car until Monday, maybe longer with careful planning.”
She looked over at him, finally, and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I know this is not the biggest issue I’m facing right now. It’s easier for me to focus on the small problems than being scared out of my mind. I can’t be as cool as you.”
Clearly, she had no idea.
His hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, his shoulders relaxed. Just another day at the office for a crime writer. He was used to seeing the ugly side of people’s nature—the murder and the death. She wasn’t.
But he wasn’t about to admit he was more bothered by the recent events than he was letting on. It might freak her out even more.
Leaving her last night had been more difficult than he would have imagined. And not just because he had his own doubts about the fire.
No. He’d been bothered by how much he’d wanted to capture that full bottom lip of hers with his own mouth. To see if the wine tasted any sweeter on her own lips, her tongue. And more.
It had taken every ounce of self-control he had to get up and walk away under the pretense of more wine.
Fortunately, he’d come to his senses in time. Because as appealing as it was to consider a brief but pleasurable fling with the teacher, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. And he’d sworn off anything more than that long ago. He’d seen what kind of pain and betrayal came from caring too much. Look at him and his ex. His parents.
“So…” She trailed her fingers along the edge of the dash, pulling him from his thoughts. He braced himself for her next question. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that, the day after I announce I’m going to start making a video to honor Mr. Williams, the room where I’m focusing my search suddenly catches on fire? Or that my car is vandalized that same night?”
“It’s possible.” He glanced over to her, careful to keep his face neutral. “Do you have any reason to believe it isn’t a coincidence?”
“I have a few thoughts. But—” She paused and gave him a sheepish grin before continuing. “I’m afraid if I say them out loud, I’m going to sound like a raving lunatic. I mean, this is my life. I’m boring and predictable. This kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me.”
He didn’t like her evaluation of herself, but he wasn’t going to argue. It wasn’t as if he really knew her. “One thing I’ve learned over the past ten years while reviewing motives for murder,” he said slowly, weighing his words, “is that people are inclined to look past the most obvious answers because they can’t believe the truth could be so dark and evil. Evil, sensational things aren’t expected to happen to everyday Janes. They happen to drug dealers, thieves, people who are involved in criminal activities on a daily basis. But the people who choose to ignore the evidence are usually wrong. So, I’d say trust your instincts.”
She exhaled and stared ahead of her. “Okay. Well. If I were going to throw out some theories, I’d guess this all has everything to do with the discovery of Mr. Williams’s remains. For the past fourteen years, everyone assumed he’d died after getting lost in the mountains.” She paused and looked down at where she’d been biting off the tip of her thumbnail. She stuck her hands under her armpits. “Nothing indicated otherwise. And why would it? Mr. Williams was one of the good guys. It doesn’t seem plausible anyone could have a bone to pick with him, let alone kill him.”
“And maybe that was the problem,” Sam ventured.
“What do you mean?”
He glanced over and met her gaze for a few seconds. “The assumption that he was such a good guy. Such a Ward Cleaver. No one is as perfect as the image you have of Mr. Williams. He must have had faults. Made mistakes.”
“Well, duh. Of course. I never thought he was perfect, but—come on. He was a nice guy. But you’re getting off point. We know now Mr. Williams didn’t die in the mountains. Someone buried his body—yards away from the school—and then drove his car into the mountains to make it look like he’d gone hiking. His body would probably still be hidden for another fifteen years if it weren’t for the peace gardens.” She stopped abruptly. “Come to think of it, when we first proposed the construction of the garden in that lot, there was an extraordinary amount of opposition and debate. More than I had anticipated.”
Sam nodded thoughtfully. “The killer certainly wouldn’t have wanted the body to be discovered. Something the peace gardens construction would have made inevitable.” Ahead of him, the light turned yellow, and he slowed the car.
She unconsciously nibbled on her thumbnail again. “Then I go spouting off at the meeting about my intention to dredge up all the memories from the time preceding his death, putting together some sort of memorial and video, looking through boxes of things that might indicate what really happened to Mr. Williams.”
He watched, almost hypnotized as Allie pulled the elastic out of her bound her hair and used her fingers to comb through the ends. It looked silky, and he wondered what it would feel like splayed between his fingers.
She glanced at him, and he turned his attention back to the traffic light as she said, “Destroying the boxes would be the best way to nip my plan in the bud. To make sure there’s nothing left to tie whoever it is to Mr. Williams.” She pulled her hair up again and smoothed it before winding the band around it in a more orderly ponytail. “And just to make sure I stay completely off the trail, they vandalize my car to send me a final message.” She let out a breath. “So. Am I completely delusional?”
“Not entirely.” Someone beeped behind him, and he realized the light had turned green. “I’m not convinced the car vandalism was meant to send a message. Someone may have broken into your car to look for the boxes you’d already hauled out. Then they went a little overboard, destroying the entire windshield so it would look like vandalism.”
“But the boxes weren’t in the SUV. They’re at my house.” She looked over at him, and her eyes widened in fear. “You don’t think they’ve…?”
“I guess we’ll find out,” he said grimly and turned on the street into her neighborhood. He eased the car past her house and pulled up to the curb in front of a neighbor’s instead. “As a precaution,” he said when she looked at him curiously.
They stayed in their seats, both searching the front of the house for any sign of trespass. Then Allie slung off the seat belt and reached for the door handle.
He put his hand on her arm. “Stop for a second, Allie. Why don’t you let me go first, check the place for intruders—”
“If there’s an intruder in my house, I sure as heck am not just going to sit here and wait. I want to know about it.” She pried her arm from his grasp and hopped out.