“I think you said you had a trig test first period today, didn’t you?” Rose said, grimacing.
“I’m up. I’ll hurry,” I said, flying to the closet.
A few minutes later I met my sisters down in the kitchen. Fawn handed me a travel mug of coffee and Rose stuck a triangle of toast in my mouth. Both of them seemed amused with my state of disarray. It made me wonder if they’d heard me and Morgan on the back porch, if they knew I’d snuck out last night.
“Good morning, lovely ladies,” Lewis said, opening the back door of the Jeep for me and Rose. He smelled of some kind of pine-laced body spray and bacon. For sure, his mom had cooked him and his little brother Cole a proper breakfast that morning.
I buckled up with one hand.
Rose smoothed my hair. “You had a late night.”
“Not too late,” I said, crunching a bite of the toast.
“Well, you can hardly tell,” Rose said, flicking a crumb off my jacket. “You want me to braid your hair?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. Why are you guys being so nice?”
Fawn caught my gaze in the rearview mirror. “We’re worried about you, obviously. You and Dad. But especially you.”
“I’m fine. For now.”
Lewis cleared his throat. “You guys want to tell me what’s going on?”
“No!” Rose and Fawn said in unison.
Lewis turned to give Fawn an offended look. Fawn rubbed a hand over his arm. “Sorry, babe. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
“The last time you told me not to worry we almost got mauled by wolves in a parking lot,” he said, pulling out of the driveway.
I paused in mid-bite and glanced at Rose. Lewis had been there with the twins the night Ezra’s sons in wolf form had cornered them at the sheriff’s station, where they’d gone for safety. If Rose needed to remember Nathaniel’s scary side, she should be conjuring up that memory. Rose just frowned at me and shook her head.
“You have to let it go,” Fawn whispered to Lewis. “Coincidence.”
“It didn’t seem like it. That night of your birthday, they were—”
“Looking for scraps of food in the station’s garbage,” Rose interjected.
“Okay, sure,” Lewis said, focusing back on the road. “Coincidence.”
“Thanks, babe,” Fawn cooed.
I swallowed my last bite of the toast, glad that Fawn realized she had to keep Lewis in the dark about all the wolf stuff. Lewis took the right turn toward school as a Cooper Mini hurtled past us, going way over the speed limit in the direction of Main Street.
“Honey Lips is in a hurry,” Fawn said, turning her head to stare.
I leaned forward. “What? What did you say?”
“The vanity license plate—it read ‘Honey Lips,’ with a z. ‘H-U-N-Y-L-P-Z.’ Ugh.” Fawn wrinkled her nose, laughing. “What’s wrong?” she said, probably glimpsing the panic on my face.
“I need to get out right here,” I said, tapping Lewis on the shoulder. “Seriously, can you stop?”
Lewis slowed the Jeep. “We’re still half a mile from school.”
“I know. I need to follow that car,” I said, grabbing my bag.
Rose put a hand on my arm. “Your test!”
Lewis slowed the car. “Should I—”
“Yeah,” I said. “Here’s good. Don’t worry, I’ll catch up with you at school.”
“But you don’t know how far that car is going!” Fawn said.
“I’ve seen that car before on Main Street. I just never noticed the plates.” I hopped out of the car to the sound of their protests, promising I’d see them at school later.
A few blocks later, I reached Main Street. The Mini was stopped in front of Pioneer Pawn. Mrs. Gillingham was unlocking the shop’s door in a hurry.
“No,” I muttered in disbelief.
Mrs. Gillingham was a flutter of blue and pink today, in a ruffled top thrown over a long maxi skirt. Her pretty graying blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was Ivan’s Honey Lips? I paused on the sidewalk, still in shock at the odd coupling. Mrs. Gillingham was at least ten or fifteen years older than Ivan had been. She’d owned the pawn shop alone since her husband had passed away a couple of years ago.
I waited a beat or two before pushing open the door of the pawn shop. A wall of clocks near the front ticked out dissimilar tick-tocks but showed similar times. An odor of musty basements and a sugary, floral perfume lingered in the air. Some of Pioneer Falls’s most precious items, from copper pots to chainsaws, filled the store’s shelves. At the far end of the shop, hocked instruments, from accordions to violins, were displayed.
Mrs. Gillingham had gone to the back room of the shop but came out to greet me, hearing the tinkle of the bell over the door. “Good morning. Why, you’re one of the Turner girls,” she said, giving me a fleeting smile.
“Hi, yeah. I’m Lily—I work at the coffee shop,” I replied patiently. Mrs. Gillingham was a regular but never seemed to recognize me. I remembered her, all right. Her claim to fame was a chai tea order and a scanty tip.
“Oh, that’s right. Well, you’ll have to give me a minute. I’m not quite open for business this morning.” She gave me a little wave as if to shoo me away and stepped to her register with her till insert of small bills and coins for change.
I glanced nervously at the wall of clocks. I’d have to be quick if I was going to make it to first period. “I need to ask you some questions about Ivan North.”
Mrs. Gillingham had been counting out cash, but now her hands stilled. Her pink lipsticked mouth formed an “o” shape and then flattened as she looked up at me. “Why would I know anything about Ivan North?”
“You were, um…friends,” I said, deciding this would take a soft approach. “More than friends, really.”
She threw her head back and issued a throaty laugh, surprising me. “Is that what people are saying? That I’m some kind of floozy?”
“No, nothing like that. I just wondered what you remember about the last time you saw him. Maybe you’d planned a date that night or something?”
Mrs. Gillingham abandoned her cash counting task and leveled her gaze at me. “How did you know we had a date?”
I was caught off-guard by her lack of denial. I hadn’t expected it to be that easy to get her to admit the truth. “I can’t reveal my source,” I said, not wanting to tell her I’d seen the embarrassing texts.
“But you think someone killed my Ivan?” She put a hand to her chest as if she were shocked to consider the possibility.
“So he was your boyfriend.”
“At my age I don’t date boys.” The fine lies in her forehead deepened with an intense frown.
“Okay, man-friend. Ooh, that sounds worse. Your…your Ivan.”
A sad look surfaced in her eyes, and she sank onto a stool behind the counter. “He was younger than me, but we made each other laugh and he was sweet. I thought I had a shot at love again. Silly of me to think that at my age.” Her lower lip quivered.
I suspected Mrs. Gillingham was about to lose it. “No, no,” I said, wishing I had a tissue to hand her. “You weren’t silly at all.”
“He was a good man. Very romantic.”
It was kind of romantic, in an odd way. I’d heard of a bunch of relationships where the men were older than the women, so why not Mrs. Gillingham and Ivan? The image of them eating cake together as in Ivan’s awkward sexy text floated through my mind. That was weird, but maybe not the age difference.
“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” Mrs. Gillingham’s tone changed, her voice hitching up a couple octaves. “I hadn’t wanted it to get around.”
“So no one knows? You didn’t go forward to the sheriff or anything?”
“The town already gossips about me since Clyde passed away. They even speculated that I had the hots for Reverend Sutton for a while, and he’s married! I didn’t want any more rumors about me. I have to live in this town.”
Well, I could unde
rstand about not wanting stories circulated. But if she was a witness to Ivan’s movements, it may not be so easy to keep her identity secret. “So, you and Ivan… How long was this going on?”
“About four months,” Mrs. Gillingham said, sniffling. “I bought the Mini shortly after we started dating. I loved his little nickname for me.”
“So did you see anything that night?”
“My eyes aren’t what they used to be, and it was dark. But I did see he had company that night. He’s got that long driveway. From the road, I could see a vehicle, maybe a truck or an SUV. I didn’t get a license plate or anything. I just thought it was someone interrupting our date plans.”
I felt a sinking in my stomach. It wasn’t enough of a vehicle description.
“He never texted me back to reschedule our date. That wasn’t like Ivan.” She pulled out her phone. Her cheeks pinked as she showed me the same string I’d seen on Ivan’s phone. “Maybe someone took his phone. The killer. Who has it now?”
“Oh, um…yeah, that’s a good thought. I’m not sure,” I fibbed.
“Well, the phone might help establish where and when Ivan was killed. If Ivan texted me from his house, that was probably his last known location,” Mrs. Gillingham said.
I gave her a surprised look.
“I watch a lot of crime shows. GPS of that phone, it might tell you his movements too,” she said, shrugging.
“Except it’s an old flip phone,” I muttered. “Doesn’t have GPS.”
Mrs. Gillingham stared at me, her eyes narrowing. “How do you know that?”
“Just a guess,” I said, my throat suddenly dry. “Him being kind of older and all, no offense. Well, I’ve got to get to school now. I’m late for a trig test.”
Mrs. Gillingham gave me an unsure nod and I hurried out of the shop. I was convinced the phone had to mean something. If there was a way to tell where that last text had come from, or if there were fingerprints on it, maybe. She’d given me somewhere to start.
I just hoped I hadn’t screwed everything up by revealing that I might have the phone. And realizing that I probably had, there was only one place to head next.
***
A little while later, I walked into the sheriff’s station carrying a drip coffee and a warm blueberry scone. I was already really late for school and had missed the test. But stopping for treats to butter my dad up was strategic. He was gonna kill me. I stepped around the reception desk and made a beeline for his desk.
He looked up, frowning. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have school?”
“We need to talk,” I said, handing him the cup and setting the bagged pastry in front of him.
“Did Maggie drop you off?”
“No, she’s working the counter. I walked over from Main Street.”
He cleared his throat and set the coffee down. “So you’ve skipped first period. That’s not okay.”
“I know, but this is important,” I said, motioning Dad to come with me. “I have to tell you something. In private.”
Arching a brow, Dad got up from his desk and followed me to the lobby. He took a seat in one of the vinyl chairs and glanced back toward reception, where his colleague Deputy Williams was answering the phone. I sat down too.
“What is so important that you miss class?” Dad whispered.
I handed him a plastic sandwich bag containing the flip phone. “Ivan North had a girlfriend. They were texting the night he died.”
Dad gritted his teeth, his eyes full of fury. “I told you not to investigate this thing!”
I scooted back in my chair, wishing I wasn’t on the other end of that glare. “I’m sorry. I promised Cooper I’d find the real killer. He has to know it wasn’t a mauling. He still blames wolves.”
I swear I heard a low growl forming in his throat when he said, “Where did you get this phone?”
“Cooper,” I admitted. “He found it when he was cleaning. He hadn’t turned it over yet.”
A vein throbbed in Dad’s neck. “Great. So that makes your fingerprints, Cooper’s prints, Ivan’s—it’ll be really hard to pull any clean prints off of this now. That’s why you leave the investigating to the police.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t think of that. I just wanted to know who the girlfriend was.”
He put the phone in his pocket. “There’s a girlfriend?”
“Mrs. Gillingham,” I said, wincing a little.
“Really?” Dad let out a low whistle. “I could see that, actually. Didn’t think she was Ivan’s type, but they were both lonely, I guess.”
I got up to leave but Dad pulled me back down into my chair. “You have to stop with all this. Ivan’s death isn’t some story you’re chasing down. This is real life, Lily.”
“I know. And we said no more lies. Blaming Ivan’s murder on the wolves is a lie,” I said, feeling the hurt burning in my chest.
“Protecting people sometimes involves lies,” Dad said, his tone softening. “Sad as that is to admit.”
I got up to go. “Well, now you have the phone. I’m sorry I didn’t turn it over earlier.”
Dad told me to wait in the lobby and returned a moment later with the truck keys. “Get to school. Leave the police work to me.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll try.”
“I’m being cleared for light duty starting tomorrow. Dr. Burrows says there’s nothing prohibitive about the arm.”
“You’re ready for patrol?”
“They need me,” Dad said, a frown tugging at his mouth. “Oh, and a local business requested extra police for their grand opening Saturday night. You’ll never guess who.”
I groaned. “Bowling alley?”
“Winner winner, chicken strips dinner.”
***
I managed to convince my trig teacher, Ms. Allen, to let me make up the missed test during lunch. I’d studied, thanks to the weekend apart from Morgan. I left Ms. Allen’s classroom, feeling like I’d at least done my best.
Before lunch period ended, I rushed to grab a snack from the vending machines outside the cafeteria. Posters advertising homecoming decorated the hall, shouting with bright tempera-painted text and way too many exclamation points. With the ordeal of Dad being missing a few weeks ago, and now the drama of the upcoming town festival and the accompanying full moon, a dance didn’t seem that important. When I caught up with Alicia and my other friends later in the day, though, they were buzzing about it.
Maggie was super focused when I got to the coffee shop that night, mumbling about special orders. Morgan brought in a bunch of stuff for her from the restaurant supply store. I was able to steal a kiss from him as he unloaded the boxes and bags of flour. I didn’t want to think about our uncertain future, but he seemed a little distracted. He and Maggie were doing a bit of whispering in the office, which had me wondering what was going on.
Tired from the long, intense day, I walked home alone after my shift. I passed Morgan’s apartment, but his windows were dark. Maybe he was still doing errands for Maggie. Turning the corner at Wallace Street, I slowed my pace. I wasn’t relishing what I’d find at home after the morning’s confrontation over the recovered phone.
I trudged through the back door and hung up my coat. As I passed the den, I saw Dad sitting at his desk. I gave him a little wave as he looked up, but then dashed upstairs to change out of my espresso-scented clothes before he could engage me in another lecture.
It’d been quiet downstairs, and now I knew why. In my room, I found Fawn rummaging in my closet, a few dresses discarded on my bed.
“Don’t be mad,” Rose said from the window seat, where she’d been watching the marauding in progress. “It’s for homecoming.”
“I was trying to ignore it,” I said, plopping my bag down on my desk.
Rose said, “Kind of impossible with all the hoopla at school.”
“You probably didn’t want to think about it,” Fawn said, holding up another option from the closet.
�
�You don’t have anything of your own to wear?” I asked as I kicked off my shoes near my dresser.
Fawn shook her head, my dangly gold-tone earrings chiming in her earlobes. “Lewis’s mom usually takes me shopping, but I still think she’s mad at me for the birthday party disaster. Like it was my fault I had to run out to escape becoming a wolf.” Fawn sauntered over to Rose, who zipped the black dress.
“You do know I just wore that to a funeral.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You said there were five people who attended. You really think anyone’s going to recognize it?”
“No, but…okay, whatever,” I said, shoving aside the dresses and sitting on the bed.
Fawn took a spot in from of the mirror, twirling to see how the fabric moved. “I don’t know, looks a little severe.”
“Again, I wore it to a funeral.” I leaned against the headboard.
Fawn continued to assess the fit of the black dress, ignoring me.
“You could go to homecoming. Take Morgan,” Rose said. “I mean, it is your last one. Don’t you want to go?”
Fawn turned to give me a smile. “She’s right. He’d look cute in a suit, too.”
I punched the pillows behind me into shape. “It’s a stupid high school dance. He won’t want to go. I don’t even think I want to go.”
“Do they have homecomings in the U.K.?” Fawn asked.
“I’m sure they have some kind of formal dances,” Rose said.
I shrugged, feeling a little conflicted. It seemed so small…such a lame thing compared to the bigger problems we were up against. What did it matter if I danced in a meatloaf-perfumed cafeteria under a mirrored ball, if wolves were in danger and hunters waited for their opportunity to wipe us out? But with so little time remaining with Morgan, maybe I should have asked him about the dance. Wasn’t it important to get the most out of the days we had together?
Fawn got help with the zipper on the black dress again and wiggled out of it, leaving a circle of black fabric on the floor. Rose cleared her throat, and Fawn bent down and grabbed it from the floor, jamming it onto a hanger and back into the closet. Then Fawn pulled another dress on over her head. “What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing over at me as the gown settled around her hips.
A Forest So Deadly (Pioneer Falls Book 2) Page 11
