Chapter Eleven

Dutton, Tuesday, January 30, 7:30 p.m.

Well.” Meredith sipped at her drink, looking out of the corners of both eyes like a spy. “Nothing like a being a little conspicuous.”

Alex gave her a rueful look across the table at Presto’s Pizza Parlor. “I tried to warn you this would happen. People have been staring at me all week.” She looked up at Daniel, who’d made a big show of draping his arm around her shoulders as soon as they’d been seated in the booth. “And you’re not helping.”

He shrugged. “They already know I kissed you last night.”

“And that he went into Bailey’s house with you,” Meredith added.

Alex winced. “How? That just happened a few hours ago.”

“Heard it at the jukebox. You fainted and Daniel carried you out in his arms.”

“I did not faint. And I walked out of that house on my own two feet.” She pursed her lips. “I swear to God. These people should just get lives.”

“They did,” Daniel murmured. “Ours. It’s not often two prodigal children return home at the same time.”

“And start fornicatin’.” Meredith lifted her hand. “Their word, not mine. I swear.”

Alex narrowed her eyes. “Whose?”

Daniel pulled her closer. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We’re here and we’re fodder for public consumption until something more interesting happens.”

Meredith looked at the cartoon Hope had colored on the placemat. “Very nice, Hope.”

Alex sighed. “And very red,” she said, so quietly only Daniel could hear. He squeezed her shoulder in silent reply. She looked up at him. “Did Agent Randall find anything that helps you on the other two women?” she whispered. He pressed his forefinger to her lips and shook his head.

“Not here,” he whispered. He looked around, taking in the faces watching them. His eyes became hard and circumspect and she knew he was wondering if the person responsible for two deaths and Bailey’s disappearance was there, watching them.

Watching me, she thought, quelling the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She stared at her scraped palms. She’d removed the bulky bandages, but she had only to glance at her hands and the shock of the afternoon returned. The screeching tires, the screams-both those of the bystanders and the ones in her head.

Someone had tried to kill her. It still hadn’t completely sunk in.

Someone had killed two women. That hadn’t completely sunk in either.

Someone had taken Bailey. Although she’d known it, knowing blood had been spilled made it more real. She thought about the house. Now that she was no longer there, she could consider the event with a bit more objectivity.

“Nobody ever asked me before,” she murmured, then realized she’d said it aloud.

Daniel pulled back to look at her face. “Asked you what?”

She met his eyes. “What they screamed.”

His blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Really? That surprises me. So… did you know what they said before, or did you just remember today?”

I hate you. I wish you were dead. She looked away. “I knew before, but standing there… it was so clear. I could hear her voice again. Like it was yesterday.”

His hand moved under her hair to cup the back of her head, his thumb finding the exact place in her neck that throbbed. “Who says ‘No’?”

She swallowed hard. “That would be me. I think. I’m not sure.” His thumb continued to work its magic on her neck and a little of the tension ebbed from her shoulders. She dropped her chin to her chest and… absorbed. “You do that well, too.”

His chuckle warmed her. “Good to know.” Too soon he stopped, withdrawing his hand. “Pizza’s here.”

The pan slid across the table and Alex looked up into the face of the waitress, a woman with a harsh face and red lipstick. She looked familiar, but Alex couldn’t place her face. She wore too much makeup and her eyes were hard. She was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five. Her name tag said “Sheila” and her eyes were glued to Daniel’s face, but not in an alluring way. She seemed to be weighing her words.

“You’re Daniel Vartanian,” Sheila finally said flatly.

He was searching her face. “I am,” he said. “But I don’t remember you. I’m sorry.”

Her red lips thinned. “No, you wouldn’t remember me. We ran in slightly different circles. My father worked at the mill.”

Alex’s shoulders stiffened. The paper mill employed half the town at one time or another. Bailey’s father had worked there. That’s where Craig Crighton had been that night. The night her mother needed him. The night I needed my mother. She closed her eyes. Quiet. Be quiet. Daniel’s thumb returned to her neck, applying pressure, and once again the tension began to ebb, making room for other memories to surface.

“You’re Sheila Cunningham,” Alex said. “We sat next to each other in biology.” The year I didn’t finish. The year Alicia died.

Sheila nodded. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

Alex frowned. “There’s a lot I don’t remember.”

Sheila nodded again. “There’s a lot of that going around.”

“What can we do for you, Sheila?” Daniel asked.

Sheila’s jaw tightened. “You were out at Bailey’s house today.”

Meredith looked up, alert and listening. The people in the booth behind them had turned, obviously listening as well. Sheila didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes had narrowed and a vein throbbed in her neck.

“People in this town would have you believe Bailey was a tramp. That she was trashy. But it’s not true.” Sheila aimed a look at Hope. “She was a good mother.”

“You say ‘was,’ ” Daniel said quietly. “Do you know what happened to her?”

“No. If I did, I’d tell you. But I know she didn’t walk away from that kid.” She sucked in her cheeks, visibly fighting to hold whatever she really wanted to say in check. “Everyone’s all upset that those rich girls are dead. Nobody cared about the regular girls. Nobody cares about Bailey.” She looked at Alex. “Except you.”

“Sheila.” The barked order came from the window to the kitchen. “Get back here.”

Sheila shook her head, a mocking smile on her lips. “Oops. Gotta go. Said too much. Wouldn’t want to rock the boat or upset the powers that be.”

“Why?” Daniel asked. “What would happen if you rocked the boat?”

Her red lips twisted in a sneer. “Ask Bailey. Oh, wait. You can’t.” She spun on her heel and went back to the kitchen, smacking the swinging door with the flat of her hand.

Alex leaned back against the bench seat. “Well.”

Daniel was watching the door to the kitchen, which was still swinging. “Well, indeed.” He turned his attention to the pizza, pulling it onto their plates, but there was a troubled frown on his face. “Eat up.”

Meredith pushed a plate under Hope’s downturned face, but the little girl only stared at the food. “Come on, Hope,” she cajoled. “Eat.”

“Has she eaten at all?” Daniel said.

“Eventually she eats if I leave it in front of her long enough,” Meredith answered, “but we’ve only eaten sandwiches. This is our first real meal since I got here.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said. “I haven’t been a very good hostess.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Meredith bit into the pizza and closed her eye in appreciation. “It’s good, Daniel. You were right.”

Daniel took a bite and nodded. “I guess for some things you can go back.” Then he sighed when the door to the outside opened. “Wonderful.”

A big man in an expensive suit crossed the restaurant, scowling. “The mayor,” Alex murmured to Meredith. “Garth Davis.”

“I know,” Meredith murmured back. “I saw his picture in the paper this morning.”

“Daniel.” The mayor stopped at their table. “You promised to call.”

“When I had something to tell you. I don’t have anything to tell you yet.”

The mayor put both hands on the table and leaned forward, getting in Daniel’s face. “You said to give you a day. You said you were working on it. And here you sit.”