Deadly Reunion (31 page)

“Isn’t Beth there?”

“No, I thought she was. She should be here any minute though,” Grace said, walking back downstairs and into the basement. “Anything else?”

“
There’s a file on Adam,” Kyle said. “When are—”

Grace looked toward the ceiling.
“I think . . .” she started to say before tilting her head to the side. Straining to listen, she heard nothing but the sound of a car passing on the street. She shook her head. “Sorry. This place is getting on my nerves. Anything else?”

“
You know, I can be there in less than fifteen minutes.”

Feeling guilty and a little foolish at her nervousness, she forced a laugh. “Don’t be silly. I’m perfectly fine, besides
, Beth and her family will be here in a few minutes,” she said, more to reassure herself than him at the moment. “Keep reading.”

“Well
, this is interesting. I opened up the file on Adam. Turns out Steve knew Adam and Crystal were working on a deal to make a movie about what she knew. Quote, Adam is looking for Crystal’s scrapbook, too, unquote. Following that is a list of times and dates. It looks like he had been following Adam. According to the date and time here, he was following Adam the night you and he broke into the school.”

“
No wonder he got to the police station so quickly.”

“
I wonder why he didn’t let Bellamy know Adam had been there, too. Oh . . .”

“What?”

“I think
I just found the smoking gun. Listen to this, Steve followed Tom after the reunion. Apparently, Tom didn’t go straight home. He went to the Moxley house first. He was there all night. Hey, have you heard the latest? That’s where they found the murder weapon. They found all three trophies buried in a duffle bag in the back yard. They also found three purple silk strands on the murder weapon. They’re trying to connect them to Tom right now.”

“Diana told the police
that night that she saw Tom carry a black duffle bag to his car,” Grace said reflectively.

“And Steve watched him go straight to the Moxley House after the reunion.”

“How much you want to bet that Tom has Hope’s missing wrap, too.”

Excitedly Kyle said,
“That’s it! That’s where those three strands came from. Tom must have killed Crystal and wiped down the murder weapon with Hope’s wrap. He then buried the weapons in the back yard. I wonder if Bellamy’s found any more evidence, yet.”

“We’re still missing something. If Tom killed Crystal, then who killed Sam?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know, but I think we should talk to the police. I wonder why Steve hasn’t said anything to them . . . Grace? . . . Are you still there?”

Grace tilted her head. “That’s got to be Beth this time. I just heard a door shut,” she said, walking up the steps. She pushed open the door to the kitchen. “Beth?”

Sudden darkness caused her to freeze. There was just enough light from the window to see the door slowly open the rest of the way. The next instant a dark figure darted out of the garage, hurtling straight for her.

Reflexively,
Grace threw up her hand as her attacker pushed her back. Unbalanced and with nothing behind her, she toppled down the stairs.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

S
omeone was crying
. Her brain sluggishly processed this bit of information as she slowly struggled to open her eyes. Basic awareness came next. She was lying on her stomach. The ground beneath her was hard and cold. She could feel someone gently stroking her hair, whispering her name. Kyle, she thought. Next, came pain, hitting her hard, causing her suck in a breath and open her eyes.

She jerked back, causing pain to shoot through her body.

Surrounding her were four of the most frightening faces she had ever seen. Heart thudding, she tried to sit up, but strong hands held her down.

Their voi
ces were set in a high-pitched wail. Their faces were twisted and ravaged: white and cakey, with huge red bulbous noses, gigantic mouths, and frightful multicolored hair. Battling through the pain, it took her mind a few moments to realize she was looking at the very worried and upset faces of Beth and her children; for some bizarre reason, all dressed up as clowns.

Finally remembering where she was
, she tried to lift her head, only to have the hand softly stroking her hair, tighten and hold her still.

“Grace, please don’t move. The ambulance will be here in just a minute,” Kyle whispered
, sounding suspiciously close to tears.

Closing her eyes
, Grace reflexively tested her muscles. Except for the excruciating pain in her arm, she seemed to be all in one piece.

Opening her eyes again, she found herself face to fac
e with Beth, who was still sobbing her heart out.

Trying to get some semblance of order
, Kyle begged Beth to take the kids upstairs. Four pairs of large red feet stomped past Grace’s head and disappeared from view.

Realizing that the night was literally turning into a three
-ring circus, Grace again struggled to sit up, only to have Kyle push her back down and order her not to move.

“Kyle?
The video.”

“What?” he asked, lying down next to her.

“Is it still here?”

Disbelief crossed his face. “I don’t know or care. Just stay still. The ambulance is on its way.”

After a few minutes of argument, Kyle stood up and crossed the room to check the video recorder, giving Grace enough time to finally have her way and sit up.

“I think my arm’s
broken,” she said, carefully holding it against her chest.

“I told you to sit still,” he snapped. Frustrated
, Kyle turned back around and shook his head. “Who ever tried to kill you, took the video with them.”

*  *  *  *

Kyle sat on the leather sofa in the living room, glaring at the women seated a few feet away in the dining room. Silently cursing the emergency system in this town, he checked his watch again. Twenty minutes had passed since he made the call to nine-one-one. Twenty minutes and no sign of an ambulance. Twenty minutes of pure torture.

Despite his better judgment
, Grace had insisted in coming upstairs. She then insisted on not being treated like an invalid. Kyle tried arguing with her. Tried convincing her to lie down in one of the spare bedrooms until the ambulance came, but Grace would have none of it.

Happy that Grace wasn’t dead, Beth s
urprisingly took her side. She quickly ushered Grace into the hallway bathroom to help her clean up. They emerged three minutes later with Grace’s arm in a makeshift sling and sat down at the table where Beth related the harrowing experience of finding Grace at the bottom of the basement steps. Neither Kyle nor Grace asked where the family had been, or why they were dressed like clowns. Kyle wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“It was just so scary!
Coming home and finding you like that.” Beth said, draping another quilt over Grace’s shoulders. “I just can’t believe it.”

Grace nodded her head. “Neither can I.
Was anything else stolen?”

Beth shook her head.
“Not that I can tell. It seems it was just the video. It’s just so strange that they would take that video. But the weirdest part is that they turned all of my pictures and dolls to the wall. Why would the killer do something like that?”

Adopting a completely innocent expression, Grace shook her head and sh
rugged her uninjured shoulder. “Weird.”

“I think we are dealing with someone really disturbed,” Beth said, her multic
olored wig bobbing up and down. “A true sicko.”

Hearing the siren, Kyle breathed a sigh of relief
, while Beth, still in costume, rushed out of the house to greet the ambulance.

Mark sat in t
he armchair next to the sofa. Taking the green wig off his head, he looked Kyle in the eye and pointed to his wife. Using his other hand, he pointed his index finger towards his temple as he made a twirling motion.

Kyle nodded his head.
“I hear you, buddy.”

*  *  *  *

Grace stirred. She was lying on her side facing the hospital door. The clock on the table next to her said seven twenty a.m. She closed her eyes. Everything was quiet. Her parents must have gone to the cafeteria for breakfast. She had gotten very little sleep, what with family, police, doctors, and nurses traipsing in and out of the room all night. All because of a broken wrist, a little bump on the head and some minor dizziness. She had tried to convince her parents to go home, but after Bellamy had refused to provide police protection, they had insisted on taking turns keeping watch. Turning over on her back, she yawned, and sleepily wondered when they were going to be back and more importantly if they were going to bring her something to eat.

As she lay back
, pondering her breakfast options, the door quietly opened. Without opening her eyes, she asked if they brought her any coffee or a donut, at the very least.

“Sorry, I didn’t come bearing gifts.”

Grace’s eyes flew open. Tom had walked the rest of the way in and was standing beside her bed. Worried, she asked, “Where’s my family? What have you done with them?”

Tom smirked. “Relax. They’re fine.
Your mom went to change clothes and your dad just left to get some coffee. He asked me to watch over you for a few minutes.”

Stunned
, Grace sank back down. She was seriously going to have to have a talk with her dad on what his definition of ‘keeping watch’ actually meant.

“I told y
ou to stay out of this, Grace. You’re lucky you just have a broken arm and a knock on the head. You could have died.”

“I thought you would be in jail
, by now,” she said, reaching a hand down to grab the call button.

“Why?
Because of that search warrant?” he smirked. “They spent all afternoon searching and didn’t turn up anything. They’re not going to find anything, either.”

Pressing the call button, sh
e asked, “Someone saw you carry a black duffle bag out of the high school. Someone else saw you go straight to the Moxley house later that night. The same place where they found the murder weapon hidden inside a black duffle bag. I think even Bellamy can connect the dots.”

He laughed. “Unfortunately, it’s not going to do them any good. It’s just such a shame they didn’t have a warrant when they dug up my back yard. Ever heard of the fruit of the poisonous tree? Since they searched my property with
out a warrant, they won’t be able to introduce the murder weapon or say where they found it. Without that, they don’t really have anything tying me to the murder. And that duffle bag
someone
says she saw me carry out? Well, it could have contained anything. I had helped my wife plan the reunion. Crystal brought a lot of stuff to the high school that night. No one can prove that the duffle bag contained anything other than extra party favors, and balloons. Not that I’m admitting to carrying any such duffle bag, you understand.”

“What about Hope’s wrap
? That’s what you used to wipe off the trophies, isn’t it? They haven’t found that yet. Once they do—”

He leaned over her.
“They’re not going to find Hope’s wrap.”

“Why Tom? Why did you do it?” Grace still couldn’t believe that the boy she had grown up with, that she so easily would have accepted into her family, could have turned into such a monster.

“Have you ever wondered why I cut off all ties with Hope? Have you ever wondered why I married Crystal, Grace?

“
It wasn’t for love, was it?”

Tom laughed b
itterly. “As a matter of fact, it was. I’m going to give you some very good advice Grace, and I want you to take it. Leave. Go back to New York and if you love your sister, if you value her safety, take her with you. Leave, before you both get hurt.”

Their heads swung around as the door opened and Hope walked in.

“Well, speak of the devil,” he said, smiling as he turned to leave.

Before Tom
could walk out the door, Grace asked, “What about Sam? Did he really commit suicide?”

Tom reached out
to gently caress Hope’s cheek. “Ask your sister. She should know. She tends to have a bad habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

*  *  *  *

Grace sat at the table trying not to notice the creepy clown painting hanging in Beth’s 1950s retro kitchen. Everywhere she stood, the clown’s dead eyes watched her. It was a completely unnerving feeling. Especially, after the night before.

Suddenly
, a coffee cup in the shape of a clown head was thrust into her good hand. Grace looked up as Beth sat down across from her. Beth was her last hope.

“Beth, do you remember
—”

“Are you excited?
I bet you’re excited! Oh, it’s just like a fairytale!” she said, accidentally spilling her coffee on the table.

Grace reached for a napkin to
prevent the coffee from spilling over the edge of the table. Oblivious, Beth continued, “I’m just so happy for her! Aren’t you?”

“Who are you talking about?”
Grace asked in confusion. As far as she knows none of her friends or acquaintances had anything to be particularly happy about.

“Don’t be coy!
I want all the details,” she said excitedly. At Grace’s confused look, Beth added, “I’m talking about Kyle Drake and Melodie, of course. I saw them at the country club the other day. They make such a beautiful couple.’

At Grace’s less than enthusiastic expression
, Beth asked, “Aren’t you happy they found each other?”

“Oh yes
, I can’t begin to describe how happy I am,” Grace said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice or at least sound less sarcastic. After her near death experience, she had made a vow to be a little less sarcastic. It was wasted on Beth anyway, since she never seemed to notice. Unfortunately, it was getting harder and harder to keep her vow.

“See, I knew you would be happy for her. Some people in town are saying it’s too soon. I
can understand their point. I mean, Larry only died a couple of months ago, but if two people love each other . . . I just don’t think time should stand in the way. Do you think they may get married soon?”

Grace choked on her coffee. “If they do
, I hope they name their first born after me,” Grace said, deciding some resolutions were made to be broken.

The next ten minutes was spent listening to Beth discuss possible wedding venues, whether
Melodie would wear white again, Melodie’s first wedding, Beth’s wedding and finally why Grace wasn’t married yet, before Grace finally was able to focus Beth’s attention onto the subject of the slideshow, and if she had seen any of the pictures of Sam.

“Let me see
. . .” she said, tapping her forehead with her finger. “There were a couple of Sam playing football. One of him when he was five; I think he was playing with a train set. I bought a train set for my boys a few years ago. They were so cute. I think the older toys—”

“Beth, the pictures,”
Grace insisted, desperately attempting to refocus the other woman’s thoughts.

“Oh yes, there were a couple of school pictures. I always hated my school pictures
. . .”

Grace decided to make herself comfortable. The best thing to do in these circumstances
was to just let Beth talk. Eventually, Beth would get back on track. Grace took a peek outside.

It was pretty outside. Much prettier than the clown painting hanging behind Beth’s head, staring at her. Grace glanced back at Beth, who had launched into a description of how her mother used to style her hair before picture day.

Ten minutes passed with little comment from Grace except the occasional
“hmm” and “oh.” She started to take another drink, when Beth’s last words registered in Grace’s mind.