by Debra Webb
“I think the episode we witnessed is called hysteria,” Cassidy commented as she and Lacy slid into the booth across from Melinda and Kira.
As usual, she was too close to the mark. “We decided not to talk about the investigation until you two got here,” Lacy explained. “Mel wasn’t ready.”
“I’m still not,” she muttered, intent on her nearly empty mug as if it were a crystal ball containing all the right answers.
“Have you been interviewed by the police?” Cassidy demanded, ignoring Melinda’s comment and cutting right to the chase. “Do you have an attorney yet? You’re going to need a good one just to show the D.A.’s office you don’t intend to take any unnecessary grief.”
“I did that already. Got my attorney I mean. But Chief Summers didn’t really question me,” Mel said thoughtfully. “He came by the house this morning and told me that an investigation was in progress and that he would keep me informed.”
“That’s all?” Cassidy prodded, clearly suspect.
Melinda nodded. “He was actually the one who suggested that I contact my attorney to find out the legal ramifications of—” she swallowed tightly “—of this new development. He said it would be in my best interest.”
“Summers?” Lacy stiffened. “Do you mean Rick Summers?”
“You remember him, don’t you?” Melinda massaged her left temple as if an ache had started there. “I think he had a crush on you back in high school.”
Lacy wasn’t sure a crush was an adequate description of what she and Rick had shared. She had never been able to put that night completely out of her mind. Rick Summers wasn’t the kind of guy a girl could forget that easily.
“He’s the one who came by the hospital when…” It was Kira’s turn to falter this time. “Oh, Jesus.” Kira closed her eyes and let go a heavy breath. “We’re screwed.”
A chill sank clear through to Lacy’s bones.
Charles Ashland, Junior, was dead. Murdered. It was no longer their secret.
Kira was right. They were screwed.
Tense silence cocooned the group for a long, awkward moment as if they were on a deserted island instead of in the middle of a crowded pub.
How could this have happened? Lacy shuddered inside. They were all good girls. Happy kids, excellent students. Never once had they ever been in trouble. They’d grown up carefree and with life served up to them on a silver platter. Except Melinda. Her parents had lost everything when she was just starting her junior year. Then, after graduation, when Lacy and the others had gone off to their preppy private universities, Melinda had stayed home and married the town’s golden boy because she’d gotten pregnant.
Nothing had been right since.
The waitress paused at their table long enough to plop down two more frosty mugs of beer. No one made any effort to thank her or even to sip their drinks.
Nothing would ever be right again.
Between their hectic schedules at college and Melinda’s two pregnancies, the four hadn’t seen much of one another those four or five years immediately following high school until the reunion. And even the reunion hadn’t been on time. The committee had decided a Christmas reunion would insure higher attendance. Most of the alumni returned home during the Christmas holiday.
Maybe it was fate…or the devil himself. That reunion had brought them back together in more ways than one. They had done what had to be done and then they had been united in their vow of silence.
Lacy had come home several times since then. She’d made it a point to stop by and see Melinda, but everything was different after that long-ago night. Too many secrets…too much pain.
“They’re going to charge me with murder, I know it.” Melinda’s hand shook, and she immediately tucked it beneath the table and visibly grappled for control.
“They can’t.”
All gazes flew to Cassidy.
“They’ll use the money, the property, his drinking and the other women.” Cassidy morphed into hotshot attorney right before their eyes. “They’ll use the physical and mental abuse if they get wind of it. Anything they can dig up, they will. And they’ll have enough motivation for a dozen murders.” She drew in a calming breath, released it slowly. “But they don’t have a murder weapon, and they don’t have a single shred of evidence against you.”
“Will that keep us in the clear?” Kira said slowly.
Cassidy smiled, one of those sly, barely a cut above sinister, lawyerly kind of smiles. “They can’t even arraign anyone without sufficient evidence, no matter how strong the motive. Any judge would throw it out. Hell,” she added, “any district attorney worth his salt wouldn’t even pursue it under the circumstances.”
“Thank God,” Melinda said softly, her relief palpable.
“So what do we do?” Lacy feared that things would never be quite that simple. Nothing ever was—at least not where Charles Ashland, Junior, was concerned.
“We lay low.” Cassidy looked from one to the other. “We provide moral support for each other as we always have, but our primary objective is to insure that no one lets down their guard and makes a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Kira’s eyebrows drew together in question. “What kind of mistake?”
“No one knows our secret.” Cassidy studied each of them in turn. “Only the four of us know what really happened. The water and other elements have long since destroyed any fingerprints or trace evidence we might have left on or in the car. There’s nothing to find in the house.” She turned to Lacy. “The suitcase was taken care of?”
She nodded quickly. A frame of memory—her digging relentlessly into the cold, hard earth as the snow fell around her—flashed through her mind. “There’s no way anyone would ever find it.” Not where she’d buried it.
Again Cassidy looked from one to the other, her pointed gaze settling lastly on Lacy. “I also assume that any other evidence was handled as carefully.”
For the space of two beats, Lacy had the distinct impression that everyone at the table was waiting for her to confess having knowledge of some other pertinent detail or item.
“Can I get you ladies anything else?”
The tension shrank to a more tolerable level with the intrusion. “I’m fine,” Lacy muttered. She had to get past this silly paranoia.
“No more for me.” Melinda shook her head, her face as pale with worry now as it had been earlier when Lacy had first seen her at her door.
“We’re fine,” Cassidy assured the waitress, who quickly left in search of thirsty patrons.
“So you’re saying that all we have to do is stay calm and this will blow over,” Lacy suggested.
“That’s right. We keep our mouths shut and this investigation will die a natural death.”
“But it could drag on for weeks,” Kira said abruptly, her words echoing Lacy’s precise thought.
Cassidy leveled a firm glare on her. “We’ll do whatever we have to do for however long it takes.”
“But—”
“We’re in this together,” she said, ruthlessly cutting Kira off. “Equally guilty. We stick together until it’s over. Like we always have in the past. No buts. If we do anything differently, then people will get suspicious. Call your respective offices, let them know it could be days or weeks. Agreed?”
The hesitation was gone. Kira nodded. “I can work from here to some extent. So I guess I’m agreed.”
Cassidy turned to Melinda and waited for her to voice her understanding, as well.
“Agreed.”
“Lacy?” Cassidy shifted in the booth to look directly at her.
“Of course.” Lacy blinked, the words they’d chanted all those years ago reverberating inside her.
…never tell a soul…complete silence…forever…and ever.
“Well, if this isn’t just like old times.”
The deep male voice vibrated through Lacy like a lightning bolt.
Rick.
Her head went up. She couldn’t help the way her greedy ey
es lingered on him in the seconds that followed as greetings were exchanged by all around her. There was no way Lacy could be in the same room with Rick Summers and be unaffected.
He had matured into a heart-stopping, handsome man. But then he’d always been extraordinarily good-looking. All the girls had thought so. His black hair was shorter than before, but it suited him. His body looked lean and hard still. Lacy remembered how the taut muscles of his chest had felt beneath her inexperienced fingers. And the way he’d gentled his eager hands so that his touch had been tender despite the lust raging through his young body. No other man had ever touched her quite that way.
“Lacy.” He was looking at her now and she couldn’t ignore him. Not then…not now…probably not ever.
“Hello, Rick.”
“It’s good to see you.” His voice was deeper, huskier than before, but there was no mistaking the underlying tension there. His expression grew harder, more intense the longer he looked at her. Was he remembering as she was?
“It’s nice to see you, too.” Lacy broke away from those disturbing gray eyes and sipped her warm beer.
“Is there anything I can do for you, Melinda?” he asked, his tone sincere.
Melinda managed a decent attempt at a smile. “I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do,” she offered listlessly.
Had the question come from any other cop on the force, Lacy would have been certain an ulterior motive existed. But Rick genuinely meant what he asked. He wouldn’t beat around the bush. He would say what was on his mind.
“In a few days we’ll talk,” he went on. “But not now. I know you have your hands full dealing with all this. In the meantime, you be sure and let me know if you need anything at all.”
“We’re here, Chief Summers,” Cassidy said bluntly. “If Melinda needs anything, we’ll take care of her.”
He nodded, acknowledging the game point to Cassidy. “Of course. I’ll keep you informed of our progress on the investigation.”
He looked at Lacy one last time before he turned and strode away. She inhaled sharply, almost gasped.
“You okay?”
Lacy met Cassidy’s concerned gaze. “Yeah, sure.”
“This won’t be the last time the chief or one of his deputies wants to talk to us.” Cassidy’s focus moved from one to the other. “We have to be prepared to hold our ground. No one, and I mean no one, is to be caught off guard. Don’t allow anyone—not even your own family—to question you alone. We’re in this together. We’ve all known this day might come. We’ll take each necessary step together. As long as we’re united, no one and nothing can touch us.”
“Thank you, Cassidy,” Melinda said, tears glistening in her eyes. “I don’t think I could get through this without you—without all of you.”
“Right now we should all go home and get some rest. We need to stay on our toes. But we have to keep each other informed of our whereabouts. And Melinda—” she turned her full attention back to her “—I don’t want you left alone at all.”
“I’ll take her home and stay with her,” Lacy offered, anxious to be away from all this subterfuge.
“All right.” Cassidy dropped a bill on the table for the beers and a tip. “I’ll relieve you at ten tonight.”
Melinda heaved a tired sigh. “Really, Cassidy, I’m not a child. I can be alone.”
She shook her head. “It’s too risky. They’ll target you, Melinda. They’ll consider you the weak link.”
She looked confused and uncertain, then with a nod relented, “You’re right, I suppose.”
“Hey,” Lacy interjected with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “It’ll be like old times. Remember how we loved sleeping over?”
Melinda smiled weakly.
But it wouldn’t be like old times, Lacy admitted to herself. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Charles Ashland, Junior, was dead.
And now the whole world knew.
Lacy followed Melinda into her house. She would rather walk on broken glass and then tread across hot coals than come back to this house, but she had to. If Cassidy said it was necessary, then it was. They had to pretend that everything was normal—appearances were important right now. And Melinda definitely didn’t need to be alone. She looked like hell. Lacy caught a glimpse of herself as she passed a hall mirror, not that she looked any better.
“Are you hungry?” Melinda led the way into the kitchen. “I’m suddenly starved.”
“When did you eat last?” Lacy had a bad feeling that it hadn’t been today.
Melinda washed her hands in the sink and reached for a nearby towel. “I can’t remember. Sometime yesterday, before the call.”
“That’s what I thought.” Lacy opened the fridge door and surveyed the contents. “How about I make a loaded chef salad?”
“You don’t need to do that,” Melinda protested. “You’re a guest. Let me take care of dinner.”
Still standing in the vee created by the open door, Lacy lifted a skeptical eyebrow at her friend. “A guest?” She harrumphed. “Get real, Mel.”
“God.” Melinda dropped into a chair at the table. “I’m not sure I can get through this, Lace.”
Lacy shoved the door shut, and crouched down in front of her friend. “Look, we’ll get through it. No one has to do this alone.”
“But what if Cassidy’s wrong? What if they have that stupid inquest my attorney told me about and something goes wrong?”
Lacy shook her head adamantly. “Nothing is going to go wrong. Cassidy knows what she’s talking about.”
Melinda ran a hand over her face and then smoothed back her hair. “I know you’re right. It’s just so hard. I’m so afraid.”
Lacy took Melinda’s hands in hers. “We all are, Mel. But we’re going to be all right. Cassidy wouldn’t be so sure of herself if she had any doubts at all. You know her better than that. She’s a tiger when it comes to the law, and she’s totally honest and irreverently blunt.”
“What about Rick?” Melinda moistened her lips and blew out another breath of worry and helpless frustration. “I’m scared to death he’ll suspect something.”
Lacy managed a halfhearted laugh. “That’s his job. He’s supposed to suspect everybody until he solves or closes the case.”
An old anger and hurt turned Melinda’s hazel eyes as hard as granite. “The son of a bitch deserved to die. He’s not worth all the worry he’s causing now. The only good that came of him are my two kids.” She closed her eyes to fight the tears brimming. “I couldn’t live without my kids.”
“I have an idea,” Lacy offered, desperate to relieve her friend’s hurt. “Why don’t we go pick up Chelsea and go out to dinner in Huntsville. It’s only an hour or so from here and we won’t have to worry about running into anyone who might say the wrong thing. Hey, we could drive all the way to Marion and have dinner with Chuckie.”
Melinda smiled. “That’s a good idea, but I think we’d have to call in advance to have dinner with Chuckie.”
The telephone rang, making them both jump.
“Christ.” Melinda pressed her hand to her chest. “That scared the hell out of me.”
Lacy let go a shaky breath as she stood. “It shaved a couple years off my life too.”
Melinda crossed the room and picked up the cordless receiver. “Hello.”
Lacy watched the turmoil of emotions that skated across her friend’s face as she tried as politely as possible to protest whatever the person on the other end of the line was suggesting. Already etched with grief, Melinda’s face turned an even whiter shade of pale. This wasn’t good. Lacy’s pulse leaped, sending the blood pounding through her veins. Surely nothing else had gone wrong.
Melinda pressed the disconnect button and braced herself against the counter.
“What’s happened?” Lacy was at her side in four strides.
“That was Mrs. Ashland.” Defeated, Melinda lifted her head. “She’s coming over to pack a couple of bags for Chelsea.
She thinks my daughter will be better off with her and the senator until this is completely over.”
Rage erupted inside Lacy. Just because they were rich and powerful the Ashlands thought they could do anything. “We won’t let her keep Chelsea! The old man’s only a senator not a god. We can just say no.” Charles, Senior had always dabbled in politics, but just over a decade ago he’d launched a serious political career, culminating in his taking a senatorial seat.
Melinda made a sound, not quite laugh and not quite sob. “Tell me, Lacy, how do you stop an Ashland in his own town?”
All emotion drained from Lacy’s body, leaving her numb and weak-kneed. Melinda was right. You couldn’t stop an Ashland…not in this town.
Chapter 3
Gloria Ashland had always been one of the town’s beautiful people. Time hadn’t changed that. Lacy glared, welcoming smile plastered in place, at the woman for a long moment before stepping back and allowing her and her friend entrance into Melinda’s home. The idea that Senator Ashland had been asked to run on the Democratic ticket for the vice presidency in next year’s election was downright scary.
“Where’s Melinda?” Gloria asked sharply, skimming Lacy and immediately flashing disapproval.
“She’s in the family room.”
Gloria headed in that direction, a flurry of Gucci and Dolce & Gabbana. What a bitch, Lacy fumed. Well, giving Mrs. Ashland grace, Lacy released a weary sigh. The woman had just been forced to relive the loss of her son all over again. Lacy’s lips tightened into a grim line. But then, Gloria Ashland had always been a bitch, even when her son was very much alive.
“I’m Renae Rossman. You remember me, don’t you, Lacy? I served as mistress of ceremonies at your debutante ball.”
Lacy closed the door behind the woman who had just spoken. Fifteen or so years younger than Gloria, Renae was even more striking than Lacy remembered. And she remembered her all right. A former Miss Alabama, Renae had married Wes Rossman when she was only twenty-one. The rumor was that she had dropped out of college and married so abruptly because she was pregnant, but nine months later that rumor remained unproved. Only about ten at the time, Lacy could remember wondering why such a pretty lady, blond haired, blue eyed, and built like a runway model, would marry such an old man. Wes was at least twenty years older than Renae. Eventually Lacy had come to understand that he was a very rich man, and money talked. He was connected as well. He’d served as the senator’s campaign manager in his every political race. Their ties ran deep.
