by Destiny Ford
I gave her a surprised look. “I didn’t realize pregnancy was such a problem at Branson Falls High. At least, I don’t remember it being an issue when I went there.”
“Because most parents treat it just like the Bradfords; they take their daughters out of school.”
“Where are the girls sent?”
“Most go to an alternative school in the county, but even going to the school gives girls a bad reputation. You know kids in Branson are taught to be abstinent until marriage. For most people around here, getting pregnant outside of marriage is a visual reminder of what a sinner a girl is—and it’s usually a cross the girl has to bear on her own.”
I nodded my head, understanding. “It seems silly though. I’m sure the community would have rallied around Chelsea and the Bradfords. Plus, Chelsea had such great friends. People like Piper Adams would have stood by her regardless.”
Martha gave me a confused look. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve talked to Piper about Chelsea a few times. She’s loyal to Chelsea even now—but I guess that’s what best friends are for.”
Martha pushed her chin out, shaking her head. “Piper and Chelsea were friends, but I wouldn’t say they were best friends. There was a bit of rivalry between them. Piper has lived in Branson her whole life. She was the most popular girl in school before Chelsea moved in. Everyone loved Chelsea, so naturally, Piper accepted her into their group of friends, but there was always an underlying competition between the two of them.”
Now I was confused. “When I spoke with Piper after Chelsea’s funeral, it seemed like she and Chelsea were best friends.”
Martha shook her head. “That’s not how things were when Chelsea was alive. Death tends to make people recall only positive things about their relationship with the deceased. Maybe that’s how Piper wants to remember her history with Chelsea. I was Piper and Chelsea’s counselor. The two of them fought a lot. From what little information I got from them, it seemed the arguments had something to do with Piper and Chelsea both liking the same guy.”
I was stunned. “That’s not the impression I got at all.” I thought back to my conversations with Piper. I couldn’t remember her exuding anything but care, concern, and a sense of loss for her friend. “You said they both liked the same guy?”
Martha nodded as she bypassed the sugary cereal and grabbed a couple of boxes of bran flakes. Her kids would not be happy. “Yeah, but you remember high school. It’s pretty common for girls to like the same boy. One thing I thought was strange though was that they were both pretty careful about keeping his identity a secret. When they talked to me about him, they never mentioned his name.”
The gears in my head were shifting into overdrive. Could the boy Martha was talking about actually be Shawn Wallace?
“Did Piper say anything else about her relationship with Chelsea or the mystery guy?”
“She was obsessed with the boy. Chelsea’s relationship with him was so off and on that I think Piper kept holding out hope they would break things off completely and Piper would get to be with him for longer than a few weeks at a time.”
“So Piper actually dated him?”
“According to her,” Martha said. “But it could have been a product of her imagination too. Piper seemed to live in a fantasy world when it came to him.”
I absently tapped my fingers on the shopping cart while I stood there thinking. If Piper and Chelsea were fighting over the same guy, why did Piper make it sound like she and Chelsea were such good friends? Martha took my silence as an indication that the conversation was over. “Have fun tonight watching the fireworks,” she said. “And if you’re free next week, we should get together for a game of basketball.”
I wondered if she’d ever seen me play. I could shoot, but I was much better at H-O-R-S-E than one-on-one. “I have a feeling you’ll kick my butt, but it sounds fun. Have a good night.” Martha laughed, and walked away to continue shopping. I thought about what Martha had said as I pushed my cart to the next aisle. For the rest of the grocery store trip, I couldn’t stop thinking about how Piper, Shawn, and Chelsea were all connected.
I unloaded my purchases from the Jeep and took them in the house. As I put the groceries away, my fridge and cabinets slowly started to look like an actual person lived there.
I poured myself a bowl of Crunch Berries. As I stood over the garbage can picking out the yellow barrels, I kept thinking about what Martha had said. If Piper and Chelsea both liked Shawn, who did Shawn like the most? Was he upset when Chelsea got pregnant? Did he actually want to be with Piper? Julia Bradford had said Chelsea decided to keep the baby. If Shawn wanted to be with Piper, Chelsea keeping the baby would have been a problem—especially if Chelsea wanted them to be a family. Now the question was whether or not it was enough of a problem for Shawn to confront Chelsea about it.
As soon as I thought about the confrontation, the gears in my mind clicked again. I dropped my bowl full of dry cereal on the counter and rushed to my office in the back room. From the middle of my desk, I grabbed the instant messaging conversation Hawke had given me.
* * *
Fordguy18: “Tell her that wasn’t part of the deal.”
Cutiepie94: “You know she doesn’t care what you think.”
Fordguy18: “She used to care. Just because she’s not here right now doesn’t change things. We agreed to do this and we’re following through with the plan.”
Cutiepie94: “Then you’ll have to convince her.”
Fordguy18: “I’ll convince her. One way or another.”
* * *
I read through the conversation several times before letting it rest on my legs. I stared blankly at my desk, thinking about the instant messages, and noticed Chelsea’s photo book. I reached for it so I could flip through the pictures again.
As I picked it up, I immediately noticed something wrong. The picture on the front of the album was gone. I opened the pages. Random pictures here and there had been taken out, and all of the pictures from the car wash were missing. I closed my eyes, trying to recreate the images in my mind. The images involved a lot of soap and Chelsea with people I didn’t recognize. Damn. What was in the photos that someone didn’t want me to see? And when had the photos been taken from me?
The realization hit me like a brick as I slumped back in my chair. The night my back door had been unlocked and my neighbor’s cat got in, someone actually had been in the house. Only they hadn’t taken anything of mine. They’d taken something of Chelsea’s. I needed to remember what was in the photos. It was a car wash . . . so maybe, a car? Could it be that simple?
I looked at the instant messaging conversation. One of the usernames was “Fordguy.” I thought about it, and remembered a black Ford truck in some of the photos. Could that have been the reason the photos were stolen? Could the truck be used as a means of identification? That was hard to believe in a place like Branson where everyone who wants to get out of their driveway in the winter owns a truck. But I remembered Cathy saying Chelsea was always with a guy in a black truck with big tires. And there was the black truck at Chelsea’s funeral that almost ran me over. Not to mention the black truck that sped by me and Officer Bob near Emerald Lake the day Chelsea’s body was found. Could they all be the same truck? I needed to find out if Shawn had a black Ford. That would be easy for Hawke to check.
I looked at the instant messages again. The conversation happened a week before Chelsea died. There was a good chance Chelsea was already back in Branson by then, hiding somewhere. The only people who knew about the baby were Chelsea’s parents, Piper, and Shawn. If Chelsea wasn’t with her family, she might have been staying with, or at least communicating with, Piper. So, what if this conversation was actually Shawn talking to Piper about Chelsea? The plan was to put the baby up for adoption and Chelsea changed her mind. I had a feeling Shawn tried to convince Chelsea to go along with the adoption and somehow the situation went horribly wrong.
I called Hawke immediately,
letting him know about my conversation with Martha. I told him my theory that Shawn had tried to convince Chelsea to put the baby up for adoption, but something went awry and Chelsea ended up dead. I also told him about the photos stolen from my house, and the black Ford truck in the pictures. I asked him to find out what kind of vehicle Shawn drove. Hawke said he would look into it immediately, and hung up. I picked up the phone book, found the name of Piper’s parents, and called her house.
A high voice answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi, I’m looking for Piper, is she there?”
“This is Piper.”
“Hi,” I said, trying to sound comforting. “This is Kate Saxee from The Branson Tribune.”
“Oh,” Piper said, much less enthusiastic than I’d been. “Hi.”
“I was wondering if I could talk to you again. I have a couple of questions.”
Silence came from the other end of the phone and then in a quiet voice, Piper said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
That seemed strange. Maybe she didn’t want me talking to her with her parents around though. “I could pick you up? We could go to the park again.”
“No,” she was quick to answer. “The phone is better. I can answer your questions over the phone.”
I like being able to see the people I interview. The slight nuances and body language always gives me a better idea of what they’re thinking—or hiding. But if the phone was the only thing Piper was comfortable with, it would have to do. “I think I know who might be involved in Chelsea’s death.”
“Oh,” she said slowly. “Who?”
“A boy she was dating. His name is Shawn Wallace.”
There was complete silence on the other end of the phone. Dammit. I’d give anything to see her face right now. Was she mad that I knew? Scared? Upset?
“Do you know him?” I asked, even though I was already sure of the answer.
It took several seconds for Piper to respond. “Yes, I know him.” So Piper had lied to me earlier when she said she didn’t know the father of Chelsea’s baby.
“Do you know if he saw Chelsea often?”
Another pause. “Yeah, he saw her.”
“Do you know if he saw her before her death?”
Piper seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “I . . . I don’t think so.”
“So he never saw his and Chelsea’s baby?”
Piper took a moment to answer. “They weren’t getting along very well before she died.” Piper paused again before surging forward. “Chelsea was making choices Shawn didn’t agree with. She wanted to keep the baby, but she and Shawn had planned to put it up for adoption. He didn’t want to raise a family so young, and told her that wasn’t the plan they agreed on. I think Chelsea came back to Branson to see her friends and find people to help her convince Shawn they should keep the baby.”
“So you talked to Chelsea about it?”
“Yes, she needed support.”
“Piper, do you think Shawn might have been involved in Chelsea’s death?”
The silence coming from the other end of the phone was all the answer I needed. Finally, Piper said, “I . . . I don’t know. I can’t tell you anything else. I don’t want to be hurt too. I have to go. I’m sorry.” And with that, she was gone, her voice replaced by the sound of the dial tone.
I called Hawke again but got his voicemail, so I left a message telling him about my conversation with Piper. I quickly cleaned up the cereal mess I’d made, grabbed my things, and left for the park hoping Piper would be there so I could talk to her more.
I milled around taking photos as I looked for Piper. I almost got a shower when some teenagers started throwing water balloons. I moved out of firing range and took some pictures. I talked to some of the people I knew, and got quotes for my article about the Pioneer Day festivities. Most people had spent the day with family and friends, and were ending it with the firework display. As the sun began its descent, the lighted chemical glow necklaces and bracelets—popular Pioneer Day accessories—got brighter. I switched my camera to night mode so I could get photos of the fireworks once they started.
As I surveyed the crowd, I noticed Piper walking across the park about twenty feet in front of me. I yelled her name as she passed under a light wearing a white tee shirt and shorts that didn’t even come close to meeting Branson’s unwritten conservative dress code. Hearing her name, Piper turned in my direction. As recognition set in, I could see her cheeks lose color under the park light. She lifted her hand in a half wave as a pink and black beaded bracelet slipped down her arm, and she scurried off toward a large group of kids gathered near the park bowery. I watched her sit on one of the picnic tables. I was about to go after her when I felt a hand slap my butt. I expected to see Hawke or Drake, but instead it was Ella.
“Hey!” I said, my butt still stinging.
“That’s for gettin’ yourself caught up in trouble you shouldn’t have,” Ella said.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m just givin’ you a warning. Amber Kane is pissed off!”
“What for?” I asked in utter confusion. “If anything, I should be mad at her for spreading rumors about me!”
Ella shook her head. “I just know she’s mad and says she’s lookin’ for you. It’d be best if you stay out of her way tonight.”
I rolled my eyes. “I really doubt I could find Amber Kane in this crowd if I wanted to.”
“I told you, she’s lookin’ for you. Don’t be surprised if she finds you.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll keep an eye out.”
Ella smiled. “How was last night with Hawke?”
I shut my eyes tight, shaking my head as I heaved a huge sigh. “How do you know about that?”
“Know about what?” A male voice asked behind me.
Ella looked up. “Where have you been lately?” I turned around and came face to chest with Drake. I was still pissed at him for the whole surveillance-tracker-Patriot-Act thing, but I couldn’t help noticing the tight fit of his jeans. I told myself it didn’t hurt to look at attractive, arrogant men like Drake as long as looking was the only thing I did. I closed my eyes, trying to shake off the sexual frustration I was feeling.
“I’ve been around, just busy.” He turned his attention from Ella to me. “Katie. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I answered. An awkward lull in conversation followed before Ella said, “I have to get back to my grandkids. Have a good night you two.” As she passed me, she leaned in, whispering. “I wouldn’t let Amber Kane see you talkin’ to him, either.”
I nodded my head, noting Ella’s warnings. She’d never been wrong in the past, and the information she did know was selectively shared, so I was surprised she was going out of her way to do it now. I must be in serious trouble. “Are you still pissed at me?” Drake asked.
I stared at him. “For which part?” I said. “Barging into my home and telling me you were going to invoke the Patriot Act on my ass? Or for parking your damn Hummer in front of my house again and starting another round of gossip about us?”
He held up a hand. “You don’t have to list all the things you’re mad at me for. I’m sure that would take all night. I didn’t barge into your house to make you mad. I was worried about you, Katie. I still am.”
I shook my head, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
“I have a nice blanket over here. I bet you don’t have a place to watch fireworks. Come sit with me?”
I started to say no and he cut me off. “Come on. It’s a peace offering.”
I looked around and knew I wouldn’t find another place to sit. Once the fireworks started, I’d get yelled at for standing. I wanted to find Piper, but I didn’t want to make her miss the fireworks, or cause a scene. I thought I’d have a better chance of getting her to talk to me after the show was over. I thought about it for a few more seconds. “I don’t know. I’ve heard Amber Kane is mad at me for some reason. I’d hate for you to be ca
ught in the middle when the fight breaks out.”
Drake cocked his head, his lips sliding into a smile. “Do you really care what Amber Kane thinks?”
“No, not really. I’m just warning you there could be a problem if she finds me.”
“I appreciate it, but I think I can take care of myself.” He paused. “I could take care of you too, if you’d let me.” The offer sounded innocent enough until I looked in his eyes and saw the familiar amused flicker.
“When you say things like that, you’re lucky I even still talk to you. I don’t need someone to take care of me,” I said, and added, “in any way.”
He laughed. “You’re fun to tease. Come on, the fireworks are going to start soon.”
“I’ll find another place to watch them,” I said, starting to walk off. He grabbed my hand, gesturing out over the park that was so crowded it looked like people were sitting on top of each other. “Where, exactly, will you find a place to sit?” I wrinkled my nose knowing he had a point. My parents were all the way over on the other side of the park. I’d get yelled at if I was still trying to reach their blanket when the fireworks started. “Will you sit with me if I apologize?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Maybe.”
“All right. I’m sorry for teasing you, and for all the other things I’ve done—and will do—to make you mad.”
He seemed sincere, though being a lawyer and politician basically means he’s trained to lie. “Are you ready to sit now?” he asked.
I studied him for a minute. “Yeah, I guess. But you stay on your side of the blanket, and I’ll stay on mine.”
He grinned. I followed him to a blue and black checkered blanket and sat, leaving a respectable gap between us. I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, but the rumors were probably already spreading. Sharing a blanket was almost the equivalent of buying a house together. Oh well. It’s not like the rumors could get much worse than they already were. I leaned back as the fireworks started. The noise from the explosions going off shook the ground and pounded against my ears. Luckily it only happened every minute or so. The display had been going on for about five minutes when Drake leaned over to me.
