Deadly Echoes (21 page)

Cicely let out a big sigh. “She's knows that. I have to take it down.”

Janet nodded. “Good. I love Facebook, but I'm very, very careful with my privacy settings. And I don't accept friend requests from people I don't know. It can be dangerous, and kids shouldn't be on it.” She put her hand on her hip. “But maybe it's time
you
got a Facebook page, Sarah.”

I shook my head. “I don't think so. I like keeping my life private.”

“We'll see.” Janet kissed Cicely on the head. “Bet you one week of doing the dishes she'll change her mind within a month.”

“I don't know,” Cicely said. “Aunt Sarah's pretty stubborn.”

“I beg your pardon?” I said. “Stubborn? Me?”

Janet snorted and Cicely giggled.

“You people obviously don't know me.” I winked at Janet, glad she was able to make Cicely laugh.

“Here,” Cicely said. “This is Mom's page. She hardly ever posted on it. She only had a few friends, mostly people she went to school with. They didn't post much either. It was usually just me and Mom. I haven't been on it since . . .”

I put my hand on her shoulder. Maybe I shouldn't have asked her to bring up Hannah's page. “That's good enough, Cicely. Why don't you let me take over from here?”

When she didn't respond, I peered over her shoulder so I could see why she'd suddenly grown silent. At the top of Hannah's page was the last comment she'd typed late the night she'd died.

I am feeling grateful tonight. Grateful for my
wonderful daughter, Cicely, and for my incredible sister, Sarah. My
life is so rich because of them. No matter what
happens in the future, I consider myself very, very blessed.

“I'm so sorry, Sarah. That must have been tough,” Paul said when I told him of Hannah's last Facebook posting.

“It hurt, but yet it helped too. She spent her last night on earth counting her blessings.” I sighed. “It upset Cicely though.”

“Probably made Hannah's death seem more real.”

“I think you're right. Her mother's last words.”

“I'll pray for her.”

“Thanks, Paul. Are you coming over tonight?”

“I'm going to try, but I'm not sure yet. Some people don't know how to drive on snow and ice. I've spent most of my time helping people get their cars unstuck. It looks like I'm going to be pretty busy. Have you heard from Mike?”

“No. Janet thinks he'll be here because he has a big SUV with four-wheel drive.”

“Yeah. I've pulled a couple of those out of snowdrifts so far.”

“I should have asked where he was staying. I know he said he was in Fredericktown. There aren't that many motels there. I suppose I could start calling them.”

“There are only three motels in town, and I'll be driving right past them. Might be easier if I just stop by. I want to meet him anyway. What color is his SUV?”

“Black.”

“If I can't find him, I'll let you know. As far as tonight, I'll call you, but the roads don't scare me. I plan to be there as long as the rest of the county can stay out of snowdrifts.”

“Great, but be careful.”

“I will. Do you have time to make a list of everyone whose name starts with
J
in Hannah's phone book or among her Facebook friends? I don't want to assume
J
is John Smith. It wouldn't hurt to look at all the people whose names start with
J
.”

“I looked through her friends list. Only one name started with a
J
. Julia. According to what she says about herself on Facebook, she worked with Hannah. She looks older, and I doubt she's the
J
Hannah was talking about. I'm afraid her list wasn't very helpful. Hannah only had a little over twenty friends, and as Cicely said, they rarely posted.”

“But maybe one of them knows who
J
is.”

“That's possible. I'll ask Janet how to contact them. It won't hurt to ask.”

“By the way, have you found anything in the address book that matches the
MLS
in Hannah's notes?”

“No, nothing,” I said. “That's still a mystery.”

“Okay. I'm checking out our John Smith. Hopefully, I'll have something soon.” I heard someone talking in the background. “I've got to go, Sarah, but I'll call you later. Do you all need anything?”

“We're fine. Janet is always prepared for storms. I think we could ride out Armageddon with all the supplies she has.”

“Good. I'll talk to you soon.”

I said good-bye and hung up the phone. Even though he seemed confident about his ability to drive on icy roads, I took a moment and prayed for his safety.

“Everything okay?” Janet stood at my bedroom door.

“Just talked to Paul. I'm still not sure he and Mike will get here tonight, although Paul doesn't seem to think it will be a problem.”

“I'm making beef stew in the Crock-Pot. There will be plenty if they make it. If not, we'll have leftovers.”

“That sounds great.”

Janet came over and sat down on the bed, next to my desk. “I wasn't actually asking about dinner. How are
you
?”

“You mean after seeing Hannah's message?” I sighed. “It made me sad and happy all at the same time.”

She reached over and took my hand. “Sarah, I want you to know how proud I am of you. I know you've wondered more than once whether you should just walk away from what happened to Hannah or keep fighting for the truth. You know, I wasn't the first person my ex-husband abused. I put up with him for several years, praying he'd change. Unfortunately, things just got worse. What made me finally decide to get out was finding an old letter written by his previous wife.” She shook her head. “It was a shock to discover he'd been married before. I had no idea. But it was seeing what she wrote to him that finally made me understand what was really happening—what I'd become and where I was going if I didn't get out. That woman's letter changed my life. I never got to thank her or tell her how much it meant to me. Because she stood up to him, she saved me. Her bravery helped me to find freedom. Finding out what happened to Hannah may save someone else, you know. Someone who will become the next victim unless you make sure the person who
did this faces justice. You may not be fighting just for you. You might be fighting for someone you don't even know.”

“Paul said the same thing.”

She let go of my hands. “He's a smart man.”

“He must be. He likes me.”

“Yes, he does.” Janet's smile slipped, and the corners of her blue eyes crinkled with concern. “So what will you and Paul do next?”

“Cicely mentioned a man named John Smith who was talking to Hannah. We're trying to find him. Hannah made notes about a
J
someone and something called
MLS
. Maybe this John Smith is the
J
she mentioned, but I'm not certain about it. We're still looking for people whose names start with
J
. Can you help me contact Hannah's Facebook friends? Ask them if they have any idea who
J
is? There aren't many of them.”

She frowned. “I can try, but I might need to log on to Hannah's or Cicely's account to access her list.”

“Thanks. I'd do it but—”

“It would take you forever. I know Facebook. I can do it.”

“I appreciate it, Janet.”

She left, but I sat there awhile longer, thinking about Cicely. I finally got up and headed to her room, still unsure what to say. I knocked on her door and heard a muffled, “Come in.”

She was lying on her bed in a fetal position, her head on her pillow.

“Hi, honey,” I said gently. “I just wanted to make sure you're all right.”

She wiped a tear from the corner of one of her eyes. “I . . . I thought I was. But I keep wondering what Mom thought about. If she—” A small sob cut off her next words.

“Her message from that night made everything seem more real, didn't it?”

She nodded.

“I understand. It made me feel the same way.”

Cicely slowly raised herself up to a sitting position. “Why did I have to go to Brenda's that night, Aunt Sarah? Maybe I could have helped my mom. Maybe I could have saved her.”

“And maybe you would have gotten hurt.” I came over and sat on the edge of her bed. Janet had covered it with a beautiful burgundy and deep blue quilt in a star pattern. I touched the fabric with my fingers. It was so soft and welcoming. Just like Janet. “I can tell you without any doubt that your mother would not have wanted you to be in danger, Cicely. Keeping you safe was more important to her than anything else.” I stared into her green eyes. “You have nothing to feel guilty about, honey. You're a child. It was never your job to take care of your mother.”

“Do you think she was scared?” she asked in a soft voice.

Emotion shot through me like electricity. What could I say? I had to tell her the truth. “Yes,” I said finally, “but I believe the knowledge that you were safe next door gave her strength. That night, before she died, she was thinking of us, honey. How much she loved us. And how happy she was.” I took her hand. “Hold on to that, Cicely. Okay?”

She seemed to accept this, and I breathed a sigh of relief and let go of her hand. “I need to ask you a question about your mom's Facebook friends. Do you know a woman named Julia?”

Cicely was quiet as she considered my question. “Yes,” she said finally. “She was really nice. And kind of old. She had something wrong with one of her legs and wore a brace on it. Mom liked her a lot.” She frowned at me. “Why are you asking about her?”

“I just want to make sure none of your mom's Facebook friends are involved with what happened to her.”

Cicely's eyes grew wide. “She didn't have too many friends.
A few from work and some she went to school with. None of them would hurt her.”

“Cicely, is there anything else you can tell me about John Smith?”

“The man I told you about?”

“Yes. You said he called your mom a couple of times.”

“Yes. I told you about him. I overheard Mom talking to him on the phone. About the flowers.”

“That's right. Did you hear anything else they talked about? Besides the flowers, I mean?”

She shrugged. “He came to our house a couple of times.”

I stared at her with my mouth open. “Cicely, why didn't you tell me this before?”

She shrugged. “You didn't ask.”

My first reaction was to grab her and shake her as hard as I could. This was information we could have used earlier.

“What do you remember about him?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

She frowned. “Well, he was very nice to me, but he seemed kind of . . . sad. When he came over, Mom made me go to my room. She always seemed a little upset after he left.”

“Did you tell the police about John when they talked to you?”

She shook her head. “I didn't think about it, Aunt Sarah. I'm sorry.”

Instantly, I felt ashamed for my momentary flash of irritation. “If you recall anything else about him, or what he and your mom talked about, will you tell me right away?”

She nodded. “I'll try. Sometimes I'm not sure if what I remember is important or not.”

“I understand, honey. Just tell me everything you can. I'll figure out if it's important.”

“Okay.”

I stroked the side of her face. “I'd like Janet to send a message to your mom's Facebook friends. Can you help her?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Why don't you take your laptop downstairs? And when you two are finished, Janet plans to make some chocolate chip cookies. Do you know anyone who might want to be her assistant?”

Cicely sighed. “I'm not five years old, Aunt Sarah.”

I shrugged. “Okay. I'll tell her to forget the cookies.”

She rewarded me with a small smile. “Don't do that. I'll help.”

“Good. I'll come down and join you in a little bit. Save some cookies for me.”

“I'll try.”

She picked up her laptop and walked to the door of her room. Then she turned and looked back at me. “Aunt Sarah, do you think John Smith killed my mom?”

My breath caught in my throat. “I . . . I don't know, honey, but I'm going to make sure the police check him out. Just in case.”

She nodded. “Good.”

I watched as she left her room and went downstairs. Then I hurried back to my room and closed the door. I made my bed, opened my desk drawer, and took out all the papers I'd kept upstairs. Then I spread everything out on the bed and riffled through them until I found the one that mentioned a
J
. Once again I read Hannah's note.
J
behind
everything
?
Why
?
What
is
the
connection
to
MLS
?
I really didn't need to look at this again. I'd memorized everything. But looking at Hannah's notes helped me concentrate.

I grabbed Hannah's phone book and turned the pages until I found the entry for John Smith. Was he involved? He was actually in Hannah's house. But if she was afraid of him, why would she let him in? It didn't make sense.

I started putting the papers back into the envelope when the newspaper article about the other murder fell out. I'd only scanned it before, but this time I read it thoroughly. Why had Hannah saved it? Maybe Hannah and her reporter friend had noticed the similarities between our parents' murders and these killings. Reproaching myself for not paying more attention to the article the first time I found it, I slowly read through it, trying to understand why it was important.

A couple had been killed in their apartment about four months after Mom and Dad. The article said they'd been found stabbed to death. As I looked more closely at it, I realized that woman, Elise Summers, had worked at
The Kansas City Star
, the same place my mom had worked. I hadn't noticed that before.
The Star
was a big operation, but I found the coincidence a little odd. The husband, Martin Lewis Summers, was an accountant working at a firm in Kansas City. The article stated that no one had been apprehended in their deaths and police were convinced the couple was killed by a burglar looking for drugs or money. I went back to the computer and put in the name Martin Lewis Summers. Several old references to the case came up, but there was nothing saying the crime had ever been solved. I had just pulled up an old obituary when I realized that Martin Summers's initials were
MLS
. Just like the note my sister had made.
What is the connection
to MLS?
That discovery surprised me, but the next thing I noticed shocked me even more. There was only one survivor named. A stepson.