Jasper groans, “Tell me you didn’t swipe that from Heather’s bedroom.”
I glance to Camila momentarily.
“Maybe,” I say. “But I think we need to look this girl up.”
Jasper and Camila lean over my shoulders as we quickly read the article to ourselves.
“My God,” I whisper. “The article says they found her body in the water, but that Aileen died of asphyxiation, not drowning. It also states there were no signs of strangulation.”
Jasper closes his eyes briefly. “She was most likely smothered.”
I blow out a breath. “And whoever killed her tried to cover their tracks by tossing her into the water—just like Rachel.” I sag at the thought. “How I wish I could rewind time and save all three girls.” I look to Jasper. “I think Heather knew Aileen. I mean, obviously she did, right? Why else would she have saved this article? And that’s not the strangest part.” I bear hard into Jasper’s clear gray eyes. “Bates and Jane both told me that Heather thought she was being haunted. Faith mentioned something similar. Bates said pictures were falling off the walls and things were moving around on their own. Today on Heather’s vanity I found three candles that looked as if they were pretty well used, and on the four corners of the vanity were bundles of sage as if she was doing some sort of ritualistic cleansing.”
Camila nods furtively. “She was trying to keep the spirits away. I know all about it, Jasper.”
Only a true witch would, I want to say but decide to keep the commentary to myself.
“I think so, too,” I whisper. “Anyway, let’s see if we can glean anything from this yearbook.”
I take a seat and Camila sits beside me as Jasper leans over my shoulder. I turn to the back and look up Aileen’s name in the index and quickly turn to the pages she’s referenced to be on. The first is her senior picture with her kinky brown hair, her freckled face, and glowing green eyes. The second is her big win for best eyes, and in the final picture she’s hugging a young Heather and a young Rachel Hatterman. The caption reads best friends forever.
“There you have it.” I take an unsteady breath. “They were best friends.”
Jasper nods. “Which makes what Kendra told us about Heather denying any kind of relationship with Rachel even more interesting.”
I nod. “Heather had something to hide.”
Camila snatches the yearbook from me and pulls it to herself. “You think she killed these girls, don’t you?”
A million thoughts run through my mind at once.
“We can’t be sure.” My eyes meet with Jasper’s. “But she wasn’t just morbidly interested in their deaths. Heather Kent believed they were haunting her. Bates told me a story of being in her bedroom when a blade flew off from the ceiling fan, narrowly missing her neck. He said she shouted, ‘I hate you, Rachel. I hate you, Leeny.’” I shake my head. “Heather felt they were tormenting her. If they were best friends, why would she feel they were haunting her from the great beyond?”
“Guilt.” Camila doesn’t hesitate with the answer.
I turn her way. “As much as I hate to agree with you, I think you’re right.” I lean toward Jasper. “Aileen was smothered. Rachel had a gash on the back of her head. The authorities assumed that Rachel hit her head against a rock. What are the odds that two of Heather’s best friends both end up dead in the water?”
“Apparently very good,” Camila spouts off. “And let’s not forget that Heather herself died by the water.”
I nod. “Bludgeoned with a cleaver. A far more violent crime.”
Jasper pinches his lips. “It was personal.”
“It sounds like revenge,” I counter.
“All right.” Jasper heads over to the expansive dry-erase board hanging on the wall and picks up a red marker. “Suspects. Let’s see what we’ve got.” He draws a large circle on the board and writes Heather Kent in the middle of it before drawing a few spokes around the outside of it. “Who’s up first?”
I glance to Camila.
“Peter Olsen.” She gives a quick nod as if she was sure of his guilt. “He was doing it with her, and he didn’t want his wife to find out about it.”
I wave the idea off. “His wife knew all about it. In fact, they were arguing about it that night. Peter liked the attention Heather was giving him. But the night she was murdered, she broke it off with him. She was already into Bates at that point.”
“Okay.” Jasper jots down Peter’s name and cites the breakup as a motive. “Who’s next?”
“Jane,” Camila shouts as if it were the right answer in a pop quiz. “I bet she grabbed the nearest cleaver and hacked away at the other woman.”
I shrug over at Jasper. “Why not? Plus, there were the fresh footprints in the damp sand near Heather’s body and I did see wet sand on Jane’s feet. She admitted to going to the edge of the cove. She said she heard Heather arguing with someone. She assumed it was Peter. She heard something being said about the past, the words haunting me. And then she said she heard what sounded like the splitting of a melon and she took off. She also mentioned something strange. She said Heather once told Faith and Kiki not to mess with anything that had to do with the afterlife. She mentioned that she felt like she was being haunted.”
Jasper pauses to look at me an inordinate amount of time. And when were you going to tell me all this?
“Now?” A nervous laugh titers from me and he quickly writes it down. “Next suspect.” I clear my throat. “There’s Bates Barlow. Kiki, the makeup artist, said she heard Bates and Heather arguing just before Heather was killed. And, right
