door.
“Did you need something, dear?” Martha’s voice rang out from the other side.
The energy, mist, and words evaporated before my eyes as if they were never there. Huh. “No, I’m fine.”
“I thought I heard you say something.”
I opened the door and smiled. “Just talking to myself. I don’t think I have time for that nap after all.” I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and went downstairs to winterize. Was the voice asking for help the same one I’d experienced at Jennifer’s house? Was it Mary? If yes, wouldn’t it be easier if she just told me who killed her? I glanced back at the staircase, wondering if something like an Ouija board would help her talk to me. I opened the door and charged out into the cold. Ouija boards probably wouldn’t hold up in court.
The diary wasn’t in any of the evidence boxes, nor was it listed on the inventory sheet. I studied the pictures of Mary’s car with a magnifying glass, hoping to see something, anything that could’ve been a diary, but there was nothing. Fagan and most of the deputies were in and out of the building, busy on Lakota’s case. There was a constant murmur of chatter and the murder board taunted me with Lakota’s pictures as I walked through the room.
Lakota’s face was all I could think about as I wandered around the main level of Martha’s house, waiting for Fagan. Three minutes after 8:00 p.m.—I hated late people—there was a knock on the door. I swung the door open and glared at Fagan. “You’re late.”
He stared like it was the first time he’d seen me. “Wow,” he breathed.
I rolled my eyes and threw on my parka. “How long is this thing supposed to be?”
He rallied against his initial shock. “I don’t know. Do you have a curfew? Should I speak to your father?” A lopsided grin almost dared me to be charmed.
“No, but I do have a life, and this isn’t a date. I’m doing you a favor because you’re doing me a favor. That’s all. I can barely handle dating one man.”
He smirked. “Detective Troy didn’t look too happy when I dropped you off last night. It didn’t cause a fight, did it?”
“No. Gabriel knows me better than that.” I took a step back, having second thoughts. Did I really want to go anywhere with Fagan? Was anything worth it?
He laughed. “Ella, I’m teasing you. Detective Troy seems like a fine person.”
I brushed past him and through the door. When we were in his SUV, I said, “Where are we going?”
“To a fundraiser at William Laurie’s house.”
“What’s he raising money for?”
“A scholarship in Mary Nelson’s name.”
“Huh.” I let that sink in. Why would he want to start a scholarship in her name, and why now of all times? “Is it already established and he’s just hoping to increase the endowment, or is it new?”
“Brand new. Maybe they were inspired by you writing a book about her.” There was a hard edge to Fagan’s voice, similar to the way it sounded when he interrogated Bryan. Was it anger, irritation, what?
“Maybe. Why are you going?”
“Any opportunity to campaign. These will be the richest, most influential people in a 100-mile radius.” He flashed his politician’s smile, and I looked out the window. A few minutes later we pulled up in front of a huge house. How could a district representative and real estate agent have this much money?
Fagan caught me gawking. “Family money. Lola Laurie’s loaded. William hasn’t worked a day since he married her, well, until he went into politics. I think she only works to keep from getting bored.”
“That explains the private schools,” I muttered as I opened my door and climbed out. We walked inside quickly and I removed my puffy coat in the foyer, handing it to a lady behind a small table who gave Fagan my claim ticket. I did my best to ignore the assumption and walked into an impressive great room. Lola and William stood in front of the doors, greeting people.
“Oh, William, she
“Did you need something, dear?” Martha’s voice rang out from the other side.
The energy, mist, and words evaporated before my eyes as if they were never there. Huh. “No, I’m fine.”
“I thought I heard you say something.”
I opened the door and smiled. “Just talking to myself. I don’t think I have time for that nap after all.” I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and went downstairs to winterize. Was the voice asking for help the same one I’d experienced at Jennifer’s house? Was it Mary? If yes, wouldn’t it be easier if she just told me who killed her? I glanced back at the staircase, wondering if something like an Ouija board would help her talk to me. I opened the door and charged out into the cold. Ouija boards probably wouldn’t hold up in court.
The diary wasn’t in any of the evidence boxes, nor was it listed on the inventory sheet. I studied the pictures of Mary’s car with a magnifying glass, hoping to see something, anything that could’ve been a diary, but there was nothing. Fagan and most of the deputies were in and out of the building, busy on Lakota’s case. There was a constant murmur of chatter and the murder board taunted me with Lakota’s pictures as I walked through the room.
Lakota’s face was all I could think about as I wandered around the main level of Martha’s house, waiting for Fagan. Three minutes after 8:00 p.m.—I hated late people—there was a knock on the door. I swung the door open and glared at Fagan. “You’re late.”
He stared like it was the first time he’d seen me. “Wow,” he breathed.
I rolled my eyes and threw on my parka. “How long is this thing supposed to be?”
He rallied against his initial shock. “I don’t know. Do you have a curfew? Should I speak to your father?” A lopsided grin almost dared me to be charmed.
“No, but I do have a life, and this isn’t a date. I’m doing you a favor because you’re doing me a favor. That’s all. I can barely handle dating one man.”
He smirked. “Detective Troy didn’t look too happy when I dropped you off last night. It didn’t cause a fight, did it?”
“No. Gabriel knows me better than that.” I took a step back, having second thoughts. Did I really want to go anywhere with Fagan? Was anything worth it?
He laughed. “Ella, I’m teasing you. Detective Troy seems like a fine person.”
I brushed past him and through the door. When we were in his SUV, I said, “Where are we going?”
“To a fundraiser at William Laurie’s house.”
“What’s he raising money for?”
“A scholarship in Mary Nelson’s name.”
“Huh.” I let that sink in. Why would he want to start a scholarship in her name, and why now of all times? “Is it already established and he’s just hoping to increase the endowment, or is it new?”
“Brand new. Maybe they were inspired by you writing a book about her.” There was a hard edge to Fagan’s voice, similar to the way it sounded when he interrogated Bryan. Was it anger, irritation, what?
“Maybe. Why are you going?”
“Any opportunity to campaign. These will be the richest, most influential people in a 100-mile radius.” He flashed his politician’s smile, and I looked out the window. A few minutes later we pulled up in front of a huge house. How could a district representative and real estate agent have this much money?
Fagan caught me gawking. “Family money. Lola Laurie’s loaded. William hasn’t worked a day since he married her, well, until he went into politics. I think she only works to keep from getting bored.”
“That explains the private schools,” I muttered as I opened my door and climbed out. We walked inside quickly and I removed my puffy coat in the foyer, handing it to a lady behind a small table who gave Fagan my claim ticket. I did my best to ignore the assumption and walked into an impressive great room. Lola and William stood in front of the doors, greeting people.
“Oh, William, she
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