“Well, here I am. What’s up?” Every part of me wanted to go back to my truck and peel out leaving them to make a baby right there in the middle of the plaza. What did I care? We were just friends after all.
“The judge let Dave out on bail today. I want you to be careful in case he is the murderer. He’s not supposed to be around here, so if you see him, call me. Do not rush in by yourself like you usually do.”
Nikki covered her hand with her mouth in an overstated giggle at my expense.
“Got it,” I said. “If that’s all, I have to go.” I couldn’t stand there and watch him flirt with Nikki. It hurt too much.
He nodded, and before he could say anything else, I left.
12
Luke sent me a couple of texts that afternoon and evening, making sure we were on good footing. I finally responded that I didn’t care who he flirted with—it wasn’t like we were together—before falling into a mess of tears hugging Fizzy. At least he understood me.
Mom knocked on my door around six. “Dinner’s ready, sweetie.”
“Mom, I don’t feel—”
“Oh, please come to dinner. I promise I won’t ask anything about Luke.” She used the voice that made me cry even harder when I was little, the one that said: “Mommy’s here, I’ll hug you and pet your hair and listen without judgment.” And as a child, I believed her, but now I was wise to her tactics.
“You promise? No talk about Luke at all?”
“I promise.”
I wiped the dried tears from my cheeks and squeezed Fizzy one last time. “Okay, I’ll be up in a minute.”
Megan and the boys sat nicely at the table while my dad and Tom sat in the living room watching golf. My mom busied herself in the kitchen adding the final touches on dinner before hauling two piping casserole dishes of cheesy goodness to the table.
When I was about halfway done and up to my elbows in some delicious mixture of cheese and noodles and chicken, Megan blurted out. “Why does it look like you’ve been crying all afternoon?”
I looked up at my mother who shrugged. “I didn’t say we wouldn’t talk to you at all, just not about Luke.”
“Oh, you’re crying over Luke?” Megan spooned a bite of casserole into her youngest son’s mouth. “I guess it’s about time the tables were turned.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I nearly spat out the partially chewed wad of food in my mouth.
“He was obviously distraught when you dismissed him so blatantly at graduation. Maybe what goes around comes around.”
“And maybe I’m not crying over Luke.” My temper was rising. I knew dinner was a bad idea.
“Okay, then why are you crying?” Megan pushed. She may be a mother, but sometimes she acted like we were teenagers fighting over who got to wear a favorite hoodie.
“I just had a bad day.”
Mom reached over and patted my arm. “Did someone fish without a license?”
“No. No one fished without a license. Why would I cry about someone fishing without a license?” I stood up and threw my napkin on the table. “I’m so sick of being trapped in this house.”
“Rylie, please lower your voice,” Dad said. “And apologize to your mother.”
My mother’s eyes were wet as she dabbed at them with her napkin. My eyes flooded with tears.
Anger, shame, frustration.
I should have sat back down, should have apologized, but my pride wouldn’t let me. Instead, I stormed out of the house and took off in Cherry Anne.
After driving long enough for my tears to stop, I found myself back at the gate where Dave had been arrested, the one that led to the scene of Ronnie’s murder. Ugh. Why was this so important to me? I was an idiot to go back to the scene of the crime when Dave was out on bail.
I yanked the wheel to make a U-turn but before I was completely around, I hit the brakes and my car skidded to a stop.
Who was that?
A man dressed in what looked like the exact description Patricia had given was climbing over the fence. My pulse quickened.
I pulled out my phone and sent a quick message to Luke.
I’m at the reservoir. Someone’s breaking in.
Within seconds he replied.
Wait for me to get there. Don’t. Do. Anything.
I shoved the phone into my pocket and pulled the flashlight and pepper spray from my ranger belt. I couldn’t wait for Luke. I had to catch Dave—or whoever it was—in the act.
13
By the time I reached the gate, the guy was long gone. Thankfully, I knew where he was headed, that is, if he really was the MWB. I hoisted myself over the five-foot fence and landed with a soft thud. My stealth skills needed work.
My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the moon let off a faint glow allowing easy navigation of the concrete path. The distance from the gate to the cove was only about a quarter mile, but it seemed to take an eternity to get there.
With my pepper spray in one hand, finger close over the trigger, and my flashlight in the other, I was ready for someone to jump out at me at any moment. I felt like a badass.
The cove was completely still except the water, where a cage had obviously been thrown. The swirling ripples made my heart jump.
I inched closer to the shoreline, keeping my footsteps as quiet as possible.
What if there was another body in the trap? There’s no way I’d be able to hoist it onto shore empty, let alone with someone in it.
And where was Trespasser Guy? I saw him jump the fence, but maybe he went a different direction. Maybe he had traps placed elsewhere too. I took another step toward the shoreline and clicked on my flashlight to get a better look at the water, hoping the murderer
