Till Death

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “Yep. Figured we still had dinner plans, but we’d change them so you’re not out running around. Yeah, I know you’re okay,” he said, stopping me before I could actually say that. “But we aren’t going to push it.”

  I raised a brow.

  “Not going to be gone long.” He cupped my cheek with his other hand. “Promise me you’re going to take it easy.”

  “Promise,” I murmured, a little lost in those blue eyes.

  A knowing tilt to his lips appeared and then he lowered his mouth, kissing me softly and a little too briefly. I didn’t want to let him go, and that was a strange new feeling for me, one I pondered as I walked back to the kitchen. The scent of fried bacon lingered.

  Mom had already cleaned up, and even though I’d promised to take it easy, that didn’t mean I was going to sit around all day. There was only a dull ache in my temple and head, manageable without taking anything for it, and there was something I wanted to see.

  I grabbed a flashlight and my peacoat-style jacket out of the back room, shoved my arms through it, and then slipped out the back door. I crossed the veranda, zipping up my jacket as I dragged in a deep breath of cold winter air. It smelled like snow. Not a lot of people thought that incoming snow had a smell, but to me it was always signaled by a fresh, airy scent.

  Frozen grass crunched under my boots as I passed the bare trellis. A low stone wall appeared. It had been here since the house was built, and I imagined it marked the original property line. I passed through the opening and crossed the narrow, unused alley before hitting a patch of dying grass. Several yards ahead was another stone wall, this one waist high. A lone mausoleum stood in the center.

  My stomach tumbled as I approached the old cemetery. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been here, as I’d avoided it like it was full of flesh-eating zombies when I was a kid.

  Heart thumping in my chest, I entered the tiny cemetery. There were only five headstones. The cement was crumbling, and the epitaphs were indistinguishable, having long since faded.

  A horn blew in the distance, causing me to jump. I was a grown damn woman, but the cemetery still creeped me out. We were in the middle of the town, the cemetery within eyesight of many homes, but as I walked to the open door of the mausoleum, I felt like I was a hundred miles away from civilization.

  The opening of the mausoleum was dark and yawning. At one time there had been a door, but for as long as I remembered, it had been missing. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside and flipped on the flashlight.

  The creepiest part about the mausoleum was the fact there were no tombs inside. There used to be tombs in here, but they’d disappeared long before Grandma Libby had purchased the mansion and property. No one knew why or where they went, and something about that just freaked me out.

  Moving the flashlight, I cast light along the floor, immediately finding the old cellar-type doors. One side was closed, and the other was in shards next to the entrance. Half of the brick wall was down, falling into the blackness of the tunnel. A small pile of red-and-white brick was next to the boards. I wasn’t a crime scene expert, nor did I have any experience in construction, but I couldn’t tell if the bricks had been torn down or had caved in.

  During breakfast, Mom had told me that she’d already contacted someone to come out first thing next week, which was roughly around the same time Cole’s buddy was also coming out to install the alarms on the apartments.

  Someone had gone in there and entered the house. You couldn’t pay me a million bucks to go down there. The amount of spiders alone gave me nightmares.

  But Derek had been right. That wall was down, and the first thing I was doing when I got back was finding some boards, nails, and a hammer. The cellar door was going to get boarded up.

  I backed out of the mausoleum, stopping abruptly when I heard a snapping sound behind me. A cold chill snaked down my spine and the hair along my neck rose. I turned sharply, hand tightening on the flashlight. I half expected to find someone standing behind me, but there was no one there.

  Twigs snapped to my left. I twisted toward the sound, but I still saw nothing through the bare low-hanging branches. My gaze darted around the cemetery, beyond the stone wall, and across the yard that led to one of the nearby homes. Nothing moved, but tiny bumps spread across my skin.

  Anyone could be out here.

  Anyone.

  Unnerved, I turned off the flashlight and hightailed my behind out of the cemetery. Once inside the house, I closed the door and locked it behind me.

  After placing the flashlight on the counter, I shrugged off my jacket and my gaze coasted over the corkboard. I draped my jacket over the hook and started to leave when I whipped back so fast my head started pounding.

  I ignored the pain as I walked toward the corkboard, scanning it more closely. There were the extra room keys, labeled clearly. Another was an extra set to the inn doors. Another set for the carriage house. There were Mom’s truck keys, and then the next spot was empty.

  But it wasn’t supposed to be.

  Angela’s house key was missing.

  * * *

  She’d come so close, so incredibly close to my secret, so close I could almost reach out and touch her.

  And she had no idea.

  I wanted to laugh.

  I wanted to wrap my hands around her neck and watch the life seep out of her eyes.

  Even right now she had no idea I was there, watching her lock the door behind her, like that could help her. A smile curved up the corners of my lips. I could gain access to her anytime I wanted. I always could. Close up the tunnels outside. Lock the doors. I could get in.

  Because I’ve always been here.

  I bit my lip as she walked over to the corkboard by the door. Her brows pinched together as she studied it. Right now, I could take her.

  No one would ever know what happened to her.

  Like it should’ve been the first time.

  But I could take her.

  I’d almost done so when she lay unconscious, could’ve easily taken her, but that would’ve been too easy and this would’ve been over too quickly.

  And I wasn’t ready for that.

  Because I still wanted to play.

  Chapter 17

  Snatching my cellphone off the counter where it was charging, I immediately called Cole.

  Luckily he answered on the third ring with an amused “Babe, I’m standing here naked and dripping. You miss me already?”

  Naked and dripping?

  “Sasha?”

  Okay. That effectively distracted me for a couple of seconds. I blinked away the fantastic image of him. “Angela’s house key is missing.”

  “What?” All amusement was gone from his tone.

  “Her house key is missing.” I walked to the pocket door and peered out into the dining room, making sure it was still empty. “She kept an extra key to her house here, and I know I saw it yesterday morning before the whole stair incident.”

  “Shit. You sure?”

  “Positive,” I said, turning from the door. “That key was there and now it’s not. I haven’t asked my mom if she did something with it, but I doubt she did.”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “I’ll be over in about an hour. Do me a favor and don’t touch anything in that room from here on out, okay? Make sure no one else does.”

  “All right.”

  “I’m going to get on the phone with some people. One of them is the detective working on Angela’s case. He may show up before me. You good with that?”

  “Of course.” I tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear.

  “Perfect.” There was a pause, and I sort of wondered if he was still naked. Not the best thing to focus on, but I couldn’t help myself. “That’s very good of you to remember.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  Hanging up, I laid my cell on the table and left to find Mom. She was upstairs in the laundry room, and when I told her wh
at I discovered, she was more than a little unnerved, but relieved that Cole was sending someone over. In her mind, he had it handled.

  “The man you saw was in here to get Angela’s key?” She stated it even though I hadn’t. “You sure it wasn’t Ethan?”

  “I’m pretty positive it wasn’t him, but if it were, do you think he would’ve just left me to lie there?”

  She shook her head as she placed a flat sheet on the bench. “I didn’t know that boy well, but that doesn’t sound like him.”

  “Plus, wouldn’t he have a key?”

  “You’d think.” She folded one end of the linen over.

  I thought about what Cole had said, that Ethan and Angela had a fight that day. “How was Angela and Ethan’s relationship?”

  Her brow puckered as she continued folding the sheet. “Seemed good to me. She talked about him a lot. Granted, Angela talked a lot about everything.” Her brief smile faded quickly. “Why do you ask?”

  I shrugged. “Curious.” Knowing I could trust her with the bit of inside knowledge, I said, “Cole learned that they had a fight the day she . . . disappeared.”

  “Goodness.” Her hands stilled as she squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know what to think. The boy seems like a good one, but you never really know people.”

  “True,” I murmured, thinking of all the people who’d known the Groom in real life. Like Cole had said last night, no one would’ve ever suspected him of such atrocious crimes.

  Mom sighed as she lifted her gaze from her sheet. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  “Honey, why don’t you go work the front desk,” Mom suggested when I bent over to pick up a pile of laundry.

  I frowned. “You could use the help.”

  “I can take care of this myself, but you’re looking a little pale, and with everything going on, the last thing I want to worry about is you passing out on me.” She dropped the linen on the workbench. “Listen to your mama.”

  A dull ache had started behind my eyes, something the doctor advised would be common, so I decided not to argue. Walking over to her, I kissed her cheek and then started downstairs. I was passing through the dining room when I heard the bell ring from registration. Picking up my pace, I made my way to the front.

  Every muscle tensed when I saw who was standing in front of the desk.

  Mayor Hughes.

  He was dressed more casually today, in a pair of blue jeans and a button-down moss-green shirt. His smile was just as tight and fake as I recalled.

  “Hello,” I said, clasping my hands together. “What can I help you with, Mayor Hughes?”

  “Heard you’ve had a busy couple of days.” He leaned against the desk, propping one arm upon the surface, rattling the vase of white orchids. “Wanted to check in on you.”

  Why in the world would he check in on me? I schooled my expression blank even though surprise shot through me, stiffening my spine. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  That smile went up a notch, but didn’t reach his eyes. “Miss Keeton, I’m the mayor of a small enough town that I hear all kinds of gossip. Such as the ongoing property dispute between Mrs. Dawson and her much younger neighbors, the Rogers family. You see, the Rogers have a teenage boy, and you know like every family that has a teenage son, they have a basketball hoop up in the driveway that is partially shared with Mrs. Dawson. That does not make the latter very happy. Apparently it’s the constant thumping of the basketball that bothers her.”

  I had no idea why he was telling me this.

  “So when someone like you moves back to town, has her car vandalized not once but twice, and then suffers a fall that lands her in the hospital, I hear about it.” He paused, the smile fading. “And then there’s the tragic situation with Miss Reidy, who happens to work at your inn.”

  My mouth moved, but there was no sound. At first, I didn’t know what to say, but then I focused on one part. “My mother doesn’t know about her truck. I haven’t told her yet,” I said, voice low. “Please do not speak to her about that until I have the chance.”

  He inclined his head. “And why didn’t you tell her?”

  “I don’t want her to worry needlessly.”

  “Looks like she should be worried,” he replied.

  Unease flooded my stomach. “Why would you say that?”

  His dark brows rose. “Your mom has single-handedly taken care of this inn for ten years with no help from you. You left. That was your right. But your mother talked about you a lot, every chance she got. Missed you, but I’m sure you know that. She was able to do it all without you being here, without any . . . drama, but now you’re back.”

  “And now there’s drama?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But that’s what you’re insinuating,” I stated, struggling to control my tone. “I didn’t vandalize my own car or my mother’s. I didn’t fall down the steps on purpose, and what is going on with Angela has—”

  “Nothing to do with you,” he finished. “That is very correct, but all these things have happened since you’ve returned. Perhaps the world,” he said, circling his right arm, “is trying to tell you something.”

  Seconds from losing my temper, I crossed my arms over my chest. What was it with this man? I didn’t get it. “And what is that?”

  “That maybe you shouldn’t have come back here.”

  I stared at him as he pushed away from the desk. Anger flashed brightly inside me. “What is your problem with me?”

  “I don’t have a problem with you. Nothing personal,” Mayor Hughes protested. “It’s all about business.”

  “How so?” I asked, genuinely curious, and still ticked off—very ticked off.

  His gaze flickered behind me as he said, “You show back up in my town, I got one dead woman and another missing. Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

  I gaped at him.

  “The thing is, I know those two horrific tragedies have nothing to do with you, but when people think of what has happened recently, they’ll think about what happened before. The past will get dragged back up, and that’s the last thing this town needs, Miss Keeton. Now, I need to get going, but you think about what I’ve said.”

  What exactly was I supposed to think about? I turned away once the door closed behind the mayor, furious and thoroughly confused. I could understand the whole town not wanting me to do interviews about the Groom. It was a small town, and bad press was not good press, but come on. What exactly was I going to do that would have that much of an impact? There had to be something else, something more behind why he was so unhappy with my return.

  I’d made it to the sitting area when I heard the door open once again. Head now thumping, I pivoted around to see a tall man walk in. A very tall, handsome man, which made my headache seem less painful.

  It was like God was rewarding me for dealing with the mayor.

  The man appeared to be half white, half African American, and he had cheekbones for days. Features angular and striking, hair buzzed close to the skull, combined with the dark suit he wore, he looked like he’d walked off the pages of a men’s magazine.

  Or a hot police calendar.

  The badge clipped to his belt flashed out from his jacket as he strode forward. His dark eyes settled on me. “Miss Keeton?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Detective Tyron Conrad,” he said, stopping and extending a hand. He took my hand in a firm grip. “Cole contacted me earlier.”

  “Thank you for coming out.”

  He let go of my hand. “No problem.”