Their Last Secret Read online

  “I see.”

  “I was wondering if we could review the security cameras and maybe I could recognize the person, or something?”

  Greg folded his arms across his chest and thought. “Hmm.”

  “We could keep this confidential,” Emma said.

  “Come with me.”

  He led her across the hall to a room where a woman at a desk was watching several flat screens of activity.

  “This is Amber Fry—she’s just joined us. Amber, this is Emma, one of our counselors.”

  They greeted one another before Greg went on.

  “Amber, could you excuse us? I need to show Emma something.”

  “Sure,” Amber said, and left.

  Greg took her seat and tapped at the keyboards as he explained the system, which had about forty high-definition indoor cameras and twenty outdoor cameras.

  “Which staff lot are you in, Emma?”

  “B.”

  “Right.” He tapped. “I got you in our system and your space number is fourteen. Here you are live, now.” Greg pointed to a monitor showing Emma’s SUV. “We’ll go back on the footage for your lot.”

  Footage moved at high speed showing cars parking, people exiting, and then showing Emma. Nothing unusual.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone hit anyone,” Greg said.

  Then a blip, a flash of color and Greg tapped more commands.

  “Here we go,” he said.

  A woman with dark glasses approached Emma’s car, placed an envelope under the wiper and left the frame.

  “I don’t recognize her,” Greg said. “Let me pull in on her.”

  “Can you run through it all again, so I can record it?” Emma got her phone.

  Greg hesitated. “You won’t post it or share it?”

  “Just for me.”

  “All right, just for you.”

  Emma recorded as Greg ran through the sequence again, slowing it when the woman emerged. Then the camera zoomed closer. The woman was wearing dark glasses, a white ball cap. But Emma could determine her hair was a dark shade of blond. She wore a light blue T-shirt, jeans, pink sneakers and had a good figure. Emma guessed her to be about her age, but didn’t recognize her.

  “She look familiar?” Greg asked.

  “No.”

  “I don’t see her leaving a car,” Greg said switching to other cameras, tracking the woman as she left the lot, disappearing from the screens.

  “Oh darn,” Emma said.

  “Wait.” Greg entered more commands. “Is it possible you bumped her on the street? We can use our outpost cameras.” A few more commands and Greg, with Emma still recording, found the woman walking to the green sedan across the street, the very car Emma had pursued on foot the previous day, and there she was in the frame.

  “That looks like you chasing after her,” Greg said.

  “Yes, but she drove off.”

  They watched as the woman did just that and Emma stopped recording.

  “I guess that’s it, Greg. Thanks for trying. I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Hang on.” He tapped a few more commands. “Look, nothing shows you hitting any cars in our camera range. But some of our outdoor cameras can capture license plate information.”

  “Really?”

  “For liability, for security, you name it.” He continued tapping and Emma resumed recording. “This woman could be running an insurance scam, you know, give you a note claiming you hit her, but pay her X amount and she’ll keep it off the books, that kind of thing.”

  “I see.”

  “Looks like she has a Ford Focus, and here’s her plate.” The camera zoomed in, enlarged the plate. Emma recorded it.

  “Let me see,” Greg said, carefully tapping the plate number on his keyboard, submitting it to the school’s database. “Naw, it doesn’t come up as staff, student or parent, or anything flagged on our lists.”

  “Thanks a million, Greg.”

  “Now, you could give the plate to your insurance, or I could run it down for you. I know some people. Give me some time, I could get you a name and address, and if she’s running a scam on school property, we’ll pass it to police.”

  “No, I want to keep this confidential for now. How about you just get me her information for starters? Maybe it’s a misunderstanding. I could just call her, talk to her. If it’s something more, I’ll get back to you.”

  Greg considered Emma’s request. “All right, if that’s the way you want to go.”

  “And we’ll keep this between us. Okay, Greg?”

  “We’d better.” Greg chuckled and winked.

  Twelve

  Orange County, California

  Present day

  There wasn’t much time.

  Saturday, Kayla and Emma had been shopping all morning and were having lunch at the new Lemon Palm Grill. After they’d ordered, Emma left their table to go to the bathroom, giving Kayla a chance to continue with a little more detective work.

  Curiosity had been fluttering in the back of Kayla’s mind for days now, since that evening she’d startled Emma in the kitchen and seen how she had reacted. The way she sat, casually shielding the screen, then closing her laptop. It all looked kind of sketchy. As if she’d been caught at something.

  What had Emma been looking at?

  Kayla had only glimpsed a couple of words, anniversary and killers now. So in the short time she had before Emma returned to their table, Kayla picked up her phone and began searching those words online.

  Again, all she found was information about anniversary gifts and killer ideas for gifts, leaving her stumped. Emma could’ve been on a site that was firewalled or accessed by subscription. Kayla didn’t even know what she was looking for.

  A shadow fell over her.

  Emma had returned. She nodded to the bags beside Kayla and said, “Those tops you got today are pretty, and I love those new shoes.”

  “Me, too.”

  The server set down their soft drinks.

  “This girl time has been fun, hasn’t it?” Emma smiled.

  “Yes.” Kayla looked off, then said: “Can I ask you something?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Kayla took a moment, thought, let out a breath.

  “I got to thinking after you said your mom died in the explosion and fire.”

  “What were you thinking about?”

  “Was it like a murder, or arson, like someone did it on purpose?”

  Emma’s jaw dropped ever so slightly. “Why do you ask that?”

  “I mean it just seems so horrible and people do kill people on purpose.” Kayla flushed, slightly embarrassed. “I mean, look at what my dad writes for a living. I was just wondering.”

  Emma shook her head. “No, the gas line broke. It was an accident.”

  “What was the name of the restaurant?”

  “It was called Tony’s Diner.”

  “Where in Maryland was it?”

  “You’re full of questions today, aren’t you?”

  Kayla shrugged.

  “Tony’s was in Beltsville, a small town northeast of D.C.” Emma looked off and blinked away tears.

  “I’m sorry, Emma. I was just curious.”

  Emma slid her hands across the table and took Kayla’s in hers. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” Emma hesitated, deciding if this was the right time before continuing. “Honey, I know you’re having a hard time accepting me, having lost your mom. You and I are more alike than you realize. I mean, I lost my mom, too, when I was young, you know that.”

  Kayla remained silent, letting Emma continue.

  “My relationship with my mom was so complicated. Most of the time we didn’t speak. So many things went unsaid. Kayla, what I’m trying to say is that my heart is filled with understanding and love for
you.” Emma squeezed Kayla’s hands. “I treasure the chance we have here because deep in my heart, I know we can help each other.”

  Blinking back tears, Kayla nodded. A moment passed, filled with the sound of conversations spilling from other tables and the clink of cutlery. Then Kayla picked up her phone, smiling at messages from her friends, bringing their discussion to an end.

  For now.

  Their meals came. Lunch was punctuated with small talk about current songs, movies and celeb gossip. As they left the restaurant and walked through the parking lot to Emma’s SUV, a woman with a floppy sun hat rushed toward them.

  “Emma!” The woman arrived breathless. She was in her late fifties. A man about the same age was catching up but walking. “Go get us a seat, Barry,” the woman said to him. “I’ll be there after I talk to Emma.” Then she turned to Emma. “I’m so glad to catch you. Clara Jean O’Connor from the community association.”

  “Oh, Clara Jean, yes, of course. How are you?”

  “Good.” Clara Jean nodded to Kayla. “This will just take a moment. I was going to send you an email, but in person’s better.”

  Emma braced herself.

  “You were so kind to volunteer and help us with last year’s charity drive, Emma. This year we’re uniting with associations across the county for a big three-day sale of donated books with donations going to literacy. It’s coming up fast, Jake Gyllenhaal agreed to come to the launch on day one to help draw attention. A friend of his lives around here and set it up.”

  “That’s fantastic.”

  “Yes, well, turns out Jake had to cancel at the last minute. That leaves us scrambling, so the committee was wondering if you could ask your husband to appear on day one. Just for a couple of hours to sign books, meet people. We’ll have a lot of his books there to sell. Benjamin Grant at a book event would draw a lot of TV media attention, which would give us a boost for the next two days.”

  “Oh gosh, I don’t know...”

  “I hate asking like this but we’re in a bind and it would be a lifesaver, and of course we’d want you there helping in any way. A husband-and-wife team would be good for the cameras.”

  Concern flitted across Emma’s face. “Me on camera? I don’t think you need me for that.”

  “We most certainly do. Oh, Emma, would you ask him, please?” Clara Jean touched Emma’s shoulder. “Forgive me. I’m coming on too strong. It’s just that we’re in a jam.”

  “No, no. It’s all right. I’ll ask Ben.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Clara Jean opened her arms and hugged her. “Come with me to my car—I’ve got some material.”

  Before going across the lot with her, Emma first unlocked the SUV for Kayla, who used the time to make another online search.

  This time she entered the words Tony’s Diner and Beltsville.

  One hit came up for a Tony’s in Baltimore. Others came up across the country. But nothing for Beltsville, Maryland. Well, it was a long time ago, and the place burned down.

  Kayla bit her bottom lip and looked toward Emma.

  I’m not giving up.

  Thirteen

  Eternity, Manitoba

  2000

  Marlene was washing the breakfast dishes while Janie returned food to the fridge and cupboards when the phone rang, startling Janie.

  “What’s up with you?” Janie’s mother said. “You’re so jumpy. Can you get that? I’m running a bit late and have to put my makeup on.”

  Janie picked up the cordless handset from the table, listened, then held it out. “It’s for you.”

  “Who is it?”

  Janie shrugged. “Some lady.”

  Marlene looked at the clock on the stove. “Take a message. Tell her I’ll call her back.”

  “Can she call you back?” Janie said into the phone, listened then held it out again. “She says it’s important.”

  Marlene groaned silently, wiped her soapy hands on the towel, then took the phone, saying: “Hello?” A second later, she said: “Oh hi, Lila, I’m on my way in and—”

  Janie recognized the name of her mom’s manager at the restaurant, and resumed putting away the salt, pepper and butter.

  “No!” Marlene shouted into the phone, snapping Janie’s attention back. Her mother’s eyes widened; one hand gripped the back of a chair. It scraped on the floor as she pulled it out and eased herself into it. Listening, her free hand trembling over her mouth, her face filled with fear and tears came.

  “Oh dear God. Oh dear God!” Marlene said, her frightened eyes bulging, staring at Janie. “My daughter was in that house. She babysat for them!”

  Janie stared at her mother, shaking inside.

  Marlene listened for several moments, before finally saying, “Yes, yes, at the club later, whatever you’d like, Lila, of course.”

  The call ended and Janie’s mother sat frozen in silence staring at nothing, as if the world had ceased to make sense.

  “Mom, what’s going on?”

  A moment passed.

  “Mom?”

  Her mother’s eyes searched for the source of the question, finding Janie, looking at her, then searching for the words.

  “That was Lila Skripchuck at the restaurant. She just told me that Mr. Tullock, his wife and—” she choked back a sob “—Linda and Neal were all—” Her hands flew to her face. “They’re all dead. They were murdered... Oh God!”

  Janie froze as the earth under her feet shifted.

  Her mother flew to her, taking her into her arms.

  “This isn’t real,” her mother said. “This can’t be!”

  Janie’s face turned white. She was motionless. Her mother gripped her shoulders and searched her eyes.

  “Janie, are you okay?”

  Silent and numb, Janie stared at nothing.

  As her mother held her, Janie began trembling and shaking with intensity until she was almost convulsing as a guttural sob swirled in the pit of her stomach, clawing upward before escaping.

  As if to silence Janie’s grief, her mother crushed her to her chest, staring at the ceiling, asking over and over: “Dear God, who did this? Who could do such an evil thing?”

  * * *

  “Marie?”

  Standing with her mother in the bakery aisle of Eternity Market Mart, Marie was gripping the shopping cart and staring at nothing.

  “We need two loaves of whole wheat. They’re on your side there.”

  Marie’s mother—whose face was etched in sorrow since Pike’s death, making her look older—pointed but Marie didn’t move.

  “Hello, Earth to Marie.”

  Marie didn’t respond until her mother nudged her. Then, as if waking, Marie looked around until her mother looked from the list in her hand, repeated her request and pointed.

  “Two whole wheat.”

  Marie placed the bread in the cart and they continued to the next aisle.

  “Honey, what’s wrong? You asked to come with me.”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, you’ve been kind of out of it recently, like a zombie. Are you feeling okay?”

  Marie nodded slowly, thinking how after Pike her mother was often out of it herself.

  “Well, what is it? We need mayo, the big jar there.”

  Marie shook her head and placed the jar into the cart, then turned when her mother’s name was called.

  “Flo!”

  The slender woman wearing oversize black framed glasses approaching them with her cart was Eva Bellday, former librarian, local historian and gossip. She knew everyone in Eternity and their business.

  “Oh goodness, Flo, have you heard the terrible news?”

  “Hi, Eva. What terrible news?”

  Exercising a measure of caution, Eva glanced at Marie, then said: “I suppose with all the violence on TV, the web and those
music videos these days, Marie’s old enough to hear.”

  “Hear what, Eva?” Flo asked. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s the Tullock family.”

  “What about them?”

  “Roy, Connie, the kids,” Eva reached out and put her hand on Flo’s arm. “They were murdered in their home on Old Pioneer! Connie died in the hospital. My niece Rhonda told me. Her friend’s cousin was one of the first officers who got there. They don’t know who did it.”

  “Oh no, oh my God!” Flo cupped her face with her hands. “Murdered?”

  Eva nodded big nods.

  Marie’s attention bounced with intensity between her mother and Eva Bellday.

  “And the children, too?” Flo asked.

  Marie tightened her hold on the shopping cart handle.

  “Yes, Neal and Linda,” Eva said. “I’m not sure of their ages but they were young.”

  Marie’s mother turned to her. “Your friend Janie would know. She’s their babysitter.”

  Tears were flowing down Marie’s face as she nodded.

  “I know, honey. It’s so sad,” her mother said.

  Marie lowered her head as she cried. “They were five and six,” Marie said.

  “Five and six?” Eva repeated. “So young—” Eva caught herself suddenly, realizing that Marie and her mother had been struck by their own tragedy.

  “Neal was...he was...” Marie began sobbing harder, her body shaking as she hugged herself and bent her knees, until she was on the floor, rocking on her heels and sobbing uncontrollably. “Neal was the same age as Pike when he died.”

  Marie’s mother knelt down and wrapped her arms around her daughter. Flo’s eyes burned with tears as she stared up helplessly at Eva Bellday, whose mouth was agape.

  “Dear Lord.” Eva put her hands on Flo’s shoulders. “Tragedy after tragedy. What’s our world coming to?”

  * * *

  “You’re flying with the Sparrow on 101 Radio News in Alden...”

  Tapping on his calculator, Telforde Rahynes made notes at the kitchen table for his next painting job. His girlfriend, Nancy Gorman, had gotten up early to make his breakfast, along with lunch and a thermos of coffee for his drive to Virden and Brandon to provide estimates. But Nancy liked listening to the radio on the counter as she went about her tasks and it made it hard for Telforde to concentrate.