Page 70 of Sinister Secrets
Jeffery shrugs.
Getting up, I keep one eye on Jeffery, doing my best to swallow down my guilt as I stride over to the shelves. Try not to choke on my disappointment as I discover that every single picture is of the little boy. I should have known. But it’s not like I still can’t try to get a description from him.
A new surge of hope fills me as I remember that I brought my laptop. I can see if Grace’s old website is still up and show Jeffery a picture of her that way.
Turning back toward the kitchen, my elbow knocks into a board balanced on top of a box. I reach out, catching it before it falls, and find myself looking at one of those photo collage frames. Bingo.
I scan the faces smiling out at me. They’re all of a much younger Lucy, probably early twenties, with friends. At the beach. Dressed in costumes for Halloween. Looking inebriated, arms slung around each other’s necks at what appears to be a party.
Squinting at the picture, I take a closer look. I can’t place the location, but something about it looks familiar. Wait. Not something. Someone.
Bile rises into my throat. Sweat dampens my forehead as I struggle to swallow it down. I wish I was mistaken, but I’m not. I could never forget her face. With a shaking hand, I pull my phone from my pocket and take a picture of the photo of Lucy with her cheek pressed up against Alicia DeWitt’s.
The door flies open before I formulate a plan. I spin around, a hand pressed against my chest, trying to calm my thrashing heart as Lucy hurries inside. Is it my imagination, or does the skin around her eyes tighten with something like suspicion when she spots me over by the shelves?
“I was admiring your photos of Jeffery,” I say, putting on my best smile. “They’re great shots, he looks so happy in all of them.”
She nods as she steps farther into the room, closing the door behind her, her gaze sliding between me and her son, still coloring in the kitchen. “How’d everything go?”
“Great. He’s been an absolute angel.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Jeffery? Come say goodbye to Cassidy. I’m sure she’s anxious to get back home.”
I hurry to the kitchen before the boy has a chance to leave it and gather my things. Squat down until my eyes are level with his. “Thank you for coloring with me, Jeffery. I really enjoyed it.”
His shy smile almost breaks my heart. It shatters when he throws his chubby little arms around my neck and presses his cheek against mine. “Be careful,” he whispers in my ear. “The ghost is watching.”
CHAPTER 40
I’m trembling on the drive back to the Sanctuary. There’s a traffic jam in my brain, too many thoughts trying to force their way to the front at once, but none of them actually succeeding. My lungs refuse to draw air, seizing with the beginnings of a panic attack. It’s the last thing I need.
Pulling over, I blast the air conditioning and aim the vents directly at my face. Close my eyes as the sweat soaking me chills. As the nausea that makes it hard to swallow slowly eases.
I’m not panicked. Heck, I’m not even scared. I’m just… upset. Confused. Heartbroken. Funny how my body can’t always tell the difference.
Though I know it shouldn’t, Lucy’s friendship with Alicia DeWitt feels like a betrayal. Her parents had moved after the fire I started to keep her away from my bad influence. To know that she’d gone on to align herself with someone much worse? It brings all those nights I cried myself to sleep—motherless, friendless, on the cusp of my teenage years without a woman to guide me through—back to the surface.
Having Lucy in my life had eased the pain I felt after losing my parents. The kindness her mother had shown me had given me hope for the future. To lose yet another family, this time because of a careless mistake I’d made, had nearly destroyed me.
But none of that matters anymore. I made it through then, and I’ll make it through now. Lucy’s obviously not who I thought she was, anyway.
Slowly, my breathing returns to normal. My perspiration dries. I yawn against the fatigue that sweeps over me as adrenaline recedes. Turn the AC down as my body recovers its control, thinking about my conversation with Lucy’s son.
Jeffery said he had tried to tell her the night the killer was in their yard. That he’d knocked on her door, attempting to wake her but couldn’t. Is it possible that she didn’t answer because she wasn’t in her room? All the pieces of the puzzle are starting to slot into place, and I don’t like the image that’s being revealed.
Lucy, Gordon, and I had all been friends before she moved away. Even after all this time, I imagine that Gordon would have trusted her, at least enough to accept a roofied drink. Possibly enough to have met her at the place of her choosing, had she asked. Maybe even enough to work together to destroy the place we’d grown up.
And Lucy’s petite. It makes sense that she might have drugged a man before shooting him to reduce the chance of anything going wrong. It would have been impossible for her to carry the body, and using a wheelbarrow would have been easier than trying to drag it.
What I need to do is find out if Lucy and Alicia were still friends when Alicia died. There’s only one person I can think of to ask.
Pulling back onto the road, I execute a U-turn and drive toward town. It’s eight-forty-two. Late for an unexpected house call, but not too late, and even if it was, I wouldn’t let it stop me.
I arrive at the house just before nine. Pull up along the curb. Change my mind and turn into the driveway, blocking the garage, not wanting to take any chances—you never know how someone’s going to react when there’s an FBI agent at their door, especially at this time of night.
Getting out of my vehicle, I march up the short walkway to the front. Draw a deep breath and knock.
While I’m waiting, I check my surroundings, inspecting the nearby homes. Each looks much like the one before me—single-level ranch houses, small but tidy with neat yards. There’s nothing that stands out. Nothing to cause alarm. It’s the kind of nondescript neighborhood where you’d expect to find law-abiding citizens—not a killer.
