Kurt and Simon hesitated, and Wally ordered, “Move it. Both of you get into the squad car.”
They walked slowly toward the car and got into the backseat. Wally followed, slipped behind the wheel, started the engine, and drove away. Skye couldn’t believe he had left her. He hadn’t even tried to save her! He’d had his gun out. Why hadn’t he shot Jackie? His desertion hurt more than the pistol-whipping.
Once the men were gone, Jackie stuck her free hand into her pocket and pulled out the car key. But when she tried to fit it into the trunk’s lock, she dropped the key ring and it bounced under the car’s bumper. Forcing Skye to her knees, Jackie knelt beside her, reached under the car, and swept the ground with her hand.
Jackie wasn’t having any luck with her search, and Skye felt a ray of hope until Jackie’s hand emerged clutching the key ring. As they got to their feet, Skye made a decision: If she let Jackie get her into the car, she was as good as dead. She had to make a break for it.
Waiting until Jackie was distracted with opening the trunk, Skye wrenched out of her grip and whirled around, prepared to run for the office. But before she could take a single step, the world exploded, and Jackie crumpled onto Skye. Blood oozed out of the hole in Jackie’s chest, and Skye shoved her away. Jackie fell, sounding like a sack of something heavy and wet thumping down on the asphalt.
When Jackie’s body hit the ground, Wally dashed out from behind the adjacent cottage. Beads of sweat stood out on the skin above his top lip, and the expression on his face was a combination of anger, agitation, and terror.
As Wally handcuffed Jackie and called for an ambulance, Simon and Kurt ran out from where Wally had emerged. Then, as if on cue, all three men turned on Skye and started yelling at her for putting herself in danger.
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EPILOGUE
Your Wildest Dreams
“I knew I’d find you here.” May stood in the open doorway of Skye’s office with her hands on her hips. “You promised you’d stay home today and rest.”
“I said I’d think about it.” Skye wasn’t surprised to see her mother at the high school. Although she had spent two hours on the phone the night before reassuring May that despite the bruises on her face she was fine, Skye knew her mom wouldn’t be convinced until she saw for herself that her daughter was unharmed.
“It’s a shame Wally isn’t a better shot.” May marched across the room to Skye’s desk.
“What do you mean?” Skye glared up at her mother. “Wally’s a great shot. He saved my life.”
“Maybe.” May’s expression was rigid and hard. “But if his aim were better, she’d be dead, instead of just wounded.”
“I thought you liked her.”
“I had her to dinner once.” A faint flush rose in May’s cheeks. “It’s not like I adopted her.”
“Only because you couldn’t get a court date.”
May ignored Skye’s snide comments and asked, “You said her real name was Stacy Dennison, with two Ns, right?”
“Uh-huh.” Skye wasn’t surprised by the change of subject. It was a tactic her mother often employed when she didn’t want to admit she was wrong.
“You know, now that I think about it, I must have met her mother when I was in the hospital giving birth to you. The woman’s name was Mary Dennison. Our rooms were next to each other, and the nurses kept getting us mixed up. She even got flowers that were sent to me.” May tapped her lips. “At the time I wondered if she was related to your father’s side of the family, but when I looked into it, she didn’t seem to be.”
“Thank goodness.” The last thing Skye wanted was to find out she and Jackie were cousins.
May nodded, then gestured at the cluttered room. “Why is this place such a mess?”
“Jackie kept starting projects, but never finished them.” Skye decided it was easier to refer to the fake social worker by that name, rather than try to get everyone to use her real one. “And I’ve been too busy to clean up after her.”
“I’ll help you straighten up.” May opened her purse and pulled out a dust cloth and a can of Pledge. “You’ll feel better once everything is spick-and-span.”
“Knock yourself out, Mom.” Skye didn’t bother to point out that she was fine with the way things were. A busy May was a happy May, and a happy May didn’t ask as many probing questions.
“The first thing we need to do is get someone to haul this stuff away.” May pointed to the knee-high piles of folders and the old file cabinets Jackie had placed next to the door, but never arranged to have removed.
“I can do that.” Kurt sauntered in. “I’m Kurt Michaels.” He held his hand out to May. “I don’t think we’ve met, but I’ve heard a lot about you. I understand you’re the best cook in Stanley County.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you, too.” May looked him up and down. “You’ve managed to charm a good portion of the female population here in town.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.” May’s lips twisted. “A charming man is like a dog with his tail wagging—you’re never quite sure if he’s going to fetch your slippers or bite the hand that feeds him.”
“On that note”—Kurt looked chagrined—“how about I get rid of those files you mentioned?”
May nodded regally, and he began loading the folders on the wheeled chair behind Jackie’s desk—the one Jackie had managed to charm the custodian into finding for her.
Skye told him where the incinerator was located, and added, “Go ahead and leave the chair in the boiler room, too.” She wanted it, and all things that reminded her of the pseudo social worker, out of her sight.
Once he disappeared down the corridor, May made a clucking noise, and said, “He sure is a handsome devil, but I wonder about him. Everyone says he doesn’t talk much about himself.”
Skye picked up her pen, intent on going back to work on the report she’d been writing. “That’s for sure.” She had some questions for Kurt as well. He had disappeared while Jackie was being loaded into the ambulance. It was as if he didn’t want to be around once Wally wasn’t distracted by more pressing matters.
“I’m surprised you’re at school today.” Simon’s smooth tenor drew Skye’s gaze to the doorway. He greeted May, then said to Skye, “I stopped by your house thinking you’d take a sick day.”
Skye quelled her impatience. “I wasn’t sick.” Why did everyone think she should have stayed home?
“Any word on Jackie, or whatever her name really is?” Simon took a seat in a visitor’s chair.
“Wally called before I left for work and said she was going to be okay.”
“That’s good.” Simon straightened the crease in his pants. “At least Boyd won’t have her death on his conscience.”
“Yes. Mom was just saying that.” Skye shot her mother a pointed look, but May had found a couple of flattened cardboard boxes and was busily assembling them.
Before Skye could continue, Kurt returned, trailed by Trixie, who said, “Look who I found wandering the halls.”
“Guess I can’t get away with anything around here.” Kurt flashed Skye a mischievous grin and leaned against the old file cabinets.
“I bet you’ve gotten away with plenty,” Skye challenged him.
Trixie, refusing to be sidetracked, demanded, “So, fill me in.” She dropped into Skye’s second visitor’s chair. “Everyone is buzzing about Jackie being a fake, but I have a feeling that’s only the half of it.”
“Okay.” Skye leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desktop and folding her hands. “First of all, Jackie has been in Scumble River before—twice. She was here about a year ago during the spa murder. She called herself Veronica Vail, and claimed to be a state police officer. Then, in the spring, she pretended to be Imogene Ingersoll, a contestant in the cooking contest.”
“Why, Ms. D?” Justin edged his way into the room and settled cross-legged on top of the testing table—the one Skye had retrieved after Jackie had thrown it out.
“She was studying me and my life. Those previous times she was just an observer, trying to figure out the best way to get rid of me and take my place. Once she decided on a plan, it took her a while to steal her social
