“The night Ms. McBride was assaulted, what time did you say you headed to the school?”
Sam repeated his earlier estimation.
“And you can attest to the fact your mother was upstairs up until that point?”
“Absolutely. As you can see detective, my mother is not well. She has stage three breast cancer and gets exhausted from her treatments.”
“Yes. She told me that,” he said and nodded at his mother. “I’ll be checking the dates you gave me with the hotel’s records and conference registration, if they still have them.”
“The dates for what?” Sam asked, perplexed.
“Your mother recalls that the weekend Jackson Williams went missing, she and your father were attending a medical conference downstate in St. George. They checked out Sunday afternoon and didn’t arrive back in Salt Lake until late that evening.”
Sam nodded in surprise. He had actually forgotten his parents had been gone the weekend Mr. Williams went missing. Possibly because it hadn’t been until Monday afternoon, when Mr. Williams wasn’t at school for his classes, that the alarm initially went up.
“That’s right. And if I remember correctly,” Sam said, feeling more hopeful than he had in a long time, “hikers reported seeing his car parked at the trailhead since Sunday morning, which would make it improbable either of my parents could be responsible.” Sam considered the driving distance from St. George, located in southern Utah, to the Uinta Mountains, located in the northeast. “It would take at least seven hours one way to get up the Uinta’s, fourteen round-trip. At least.”
“I expect you’re right,” the detective said. “Which is why I’ll be calling the hotel to check out your mother’s story so I can eliminate them as suspects. When did you become aware your mother was having an affair with Mr. Williams?”
The question surprised Sam for a minute, as did the intensity in the detective’s eyes. “I heard my parents argue about it once. It was a few months before my graduation.” He heard his mother’s sharp intake of breath, but he continued. It was time for them both to be honest. “Mr. Williams was never mentioned by name, and it wasn’t something I was looking to figure out. It was only this past week I put it together.”
The detective stared at him as if trying to determine if he was lying.
His mother half rose from the couch, her voice high. “Detective, you don’t consider my son a suspect? He was only a child.”
“We made an interesting discovery after going through the contents of that box Ms. McBride provided. The coffee mug had traces of arsenic. Since I understand the box contained items Mr. Williams used while he was at school, it implies the arsenic poisoning probably also occurred at school.” He hesitated again, deliberating over something. “We also may have found the murder weapon. A letter opener from the same box. We’re still conducting tests. In the meantime, we need to consider everyone who had access to Mr. Williams’s classroom at that time. Including your son. However unlikely.”
“Fair enough,” Sam said. He knew he was innocent, and it looked like his mother was soon going to be in the clear, too. He could take the heat.
His mother, however, looked white as a sheet. “The letter opener?”
“We tested for blood then and now and found nothing. But now we’ve recovered the body, we can determine if it fits the description for the murder object.” The detective paused and scrutinized her expression. “Are you familiar with the opener?”
She put her hand to her throat and nodded. “It was a gift. I—I gave it to him.”
Detective Johnson looked at her another beat and scrawled something in his notebook.
Was the fact the murderer had used the letter opener a coincidence? Or did it mean something more? Sam raked his hand through his hair as he pondered it. Thank God his mother had an alibi.
“If you, your mother, or Ms. McBride remember or come across anything that may be useful, be sure to give me a call.”
“Of course. Perhaps you can answer a question for me, Detective. How did you make the connection between the letters and my mother?”
“We received an anonymous tip Friday night. The woman claimed to know Elizabeth Fratto wrote the letters and believed she may have been the one who killed Jackson Williams after the fallout when he broke things off. But the lead on your mother seemed so farfetched that it wasn’t until I followed up on my other leads that I was able to get out here to follow up.”
Sam nodded. “Thanks.” Friday night. The same night he’d told Allie who “E” was.
Ever the gracious hostess, his mom escorted the detective to the door. When it shut behind him, she looked at Sam, who was fighting the urge to slam a fist into something.
Why would Allie do it? And then tell him she hadn’t? The facts told him she was the likely culprit…but his gut—no, his heart—was telling him something else.
Doubt niggled at him. But who else could it possibly be?
His mother’s voice pulled him from the frustration raging inside him. “I know you probably have some questions for me, and there are some things we need to discuss. But maybe we can delay it until later? I need to rest now.”
She looked horrible, slumped back against the door, whatever strength she’d been drawing from to endure the interview drained away. He helped her up the stairs to her room, where he drew the curtains as she requested.
“Sam,” she murmured before he could close the door. “I’m sorry you heard that argument between me and your father. Remember, we always loved you. Hurting you was the last thing we wanted.”
“I know, Mom. And I love you, too. Rest now. It’s going to be okay.” She went quiet and still, lying peacefully on her bed. The rising and falling of her chest assured him she was only sleeping.
He headed downstairs to speak to Patty. He thanked her profusely for calling him as quickly as she had and made arrangements for her to prepare a light dinner she could serve his mother in bed later that evening.
Whoever had tipped off the police, fortunately, no harm had come from the revelation. Detective Johnson seemed to believe his mother was innocent. To be honest, it was like a boulder had been lifted from Sam’s chest.
But that meant there was still someone out there. Someone who’d killed Mr. Williams and thought they were going to get away with it.
Not if Sam could help it. He went to his room and dug out his laptop. In the past, outlining the beginning of his next book often helped him make connections, see the whole story, the conflict, more clearly.
That’s what he was determined to do now.
He had a killer to identify.
…
Instead of heading for a refill of coffee from the faculty lounge when she arrived at school on Monday, Allie headed directly to her classroom, a move she had planned when she filled her largest travel mug to the brim before setting out from home this morning. She couldn’t risk facing anyone right now.
Anyone meaning Sam.
She almost had called in sick. For the first time in her entire career, even including the early days of her divorce, Allie had woken up perfectly healthy…and hadn’t wanted to get out of bed.
On top of the whole Sam thing, she’d also had a big fight with her sister yesterday. Allie had made a concerned comment about her sister’s dwindling weight and suggested it might be time to kick her absent husband to the curb since he was making her so miserable. Laney had said some really hurtful things back and stormed out. They hadn’t spoken since.
So this morning, Allie had just wanted to burrow down in her comforter, wrap it around her like a cocoon, and shut out the outside world. Vi had spent another night at Ryan’s, too sick to return to school. Chelsea was watching her, so Allie didn’t have the extra pressure of getting her daughter out of bed. Only herself.
She hurried past Sam’s classroom. She needn’t have bothered. His light was off.
Instead of relief, she felt only more trepidation. He was an early riser and usually one of the first to get to sc
hool in the morning. Where was he? And more important, why hadn’t he called her to apologize?
Allie slumped into her desk chair, not bothering to flip the lights on. With the morning sun assaulting her eyes, any extra light was unnecessary.
She couldn’t believe Sam had run out on her like that. And now, with the luxury of twenty-four hours to have considered what had happened, she couldn’t believe she had let him run out on her. Not without trying to shake some sense into the stubborn man. Not after what they’d shared that night. And today, despite waking up to a glorious, beautiful spring day, she’d felt an overwhelming sense of loss.
She’d lost Sam’s trust, lost her sister’s confidence, lost her belief that Mr. Williams was someone who deserved to be remembered.
This classroom had been Mr. Williams’s. Something she’d always loved. Today it was a reminder of how foolish she’d been. She’d been struggling all these weeks to put together something for a man who had slept with a married woman, a woman with a family. Sam’s family. And now there was the possibility he also had slept with one of his students. A young, impressionable girl whose naiveté he’d taken advantage of—which would be the most serious breach of trust a teacher could make. Then, he’d left her to bear the burden of a teenage pregnancy on her own.
Despicable was a word that came to mind. Dishonorable.
From the reactions of many of the people she’d been running up against throughout this whole thing, she wondered if she was actually the last person on the planet to know what Mr. Williams had really been like. Even Jeremy had been reluctant when he’d heard Allie bring up the video idea at the planning meeting. In fact, he had seemed almost…alarmed.
Allie wondered if, as a school administrator, he’d been brought up to date on some of the more serious infractions at the time he assumed the position of vice principal. What could have been more serious than a seventeen year old student pregnant by the student body’s favorite teacher?
She glanced at the clock. She still had twenty minutes before class started. Without hesitating, she headed to the principal’s office.
Jeremy looked uneasy when he saw her, and she didn’t bother with preliminary niceties, just laid out her suspicions. From the wary look he gave her when she finished, he didn’t seem entirely surprised.
“Allie, I’m not at liberty to discuss students’ health and personal problems.” His gaze darted to the door, as if afraid someone might overhear their conversation. “Even a student from fifteen years ago.”
“Jeremy, over the past couple weeks, I’ve had my car vandalized, my head bashed in, and was nearly cremated. I think I deserve to know the truth about the man I’m doing all this for. I’m not going to publish it. This is only for me.”
“I guess you have a point.” He scratched his head. “Okay. But this is strictly confidential.” He went to shut the door and returned to his desk. “Tiffany Sawyer and her parents came to the administration to discuss the options of a transfer. She was pregnant. Mr. Williams was involved at the time, but not from the kind of personal involvement you’re suggesting. Merely as an advisor, as a friend. He was the one who initially urged her to talk to her parents. I couldn’t say with absolute certainty, of course, but I don’t think anyone thought Mr. Williams was romantically involved with Ms. Sawyer. My recollection is it was one of the guys on the football team, which was an issue in itself.”
Relief coursed through her. Mr. Williams hadn’t slept with his student. Thank goodness. What Meredith and her friends saw was merely Mr. Williams offering a troubled student a shoulder to cry on.
But it didn’t completely exonerate him of all wrongs, did it?
“I couldn’t help but notice you were less than a fan of Mr. Williams when I spoke to you before. And at the planning session, you were reluctant to approve my proposal for a video. Why was that?”
Jeremy sat back, as if measuring Allie. “There were other rumors circulating at the time. About Mr. Williams. His relationships. There is no policy about dating other faculty members, per se, but the fallout that can occur from such a relationship would be widespread. We’re a small community, so it would be difficult not to expect anger and jealousy to flare up if, say, the other person moved on.”
She blinked. “Mr. Williams was dating one of the other teachers?”
“Yes.” He didn’t volunteer more, and the sense of frustration in his voice was likely meant for her and her questions, as much as for Mr. Williams.
She had to know. “Who was it?”
“I’m sorry, Allie. I’m afraid I can’t answer that. I have to respect the privacy of the teacher. I’ll bring it up to the detective if you think I should, but I believe I’ve told you enough to settle whatever qualms you had.”
Best not to push her luck. “So it was just his relationship with another teacher that earned your dislike for Mr. Williams?”
“It was a start—but before you can begin asking me another twenty questions, I think it’s best we just let this go. Whatever harm I may have thought Mr. Williams caused, the man was murdered, and we should let those issues die with him. Nothing he did was bad enough to warrant his death, and I’m ashamed to have carried my jealousy and anger for as long as I have. So we’ll all move on, shall we? In fact…” He glanced at his watch. “I really need to be going. Sam Fratto called in today. Some personal issues he has to resolve. Since his absence will only be temporary, I thought I’d fill in.”
Personal issues? Had something else happened? Was his mother okay? But she refrained from asking Jeremy and instead nodded and thanked him for his time. Leaving his office, she took the steps up to her classroom…a little more cheerfully than when she’d come down.
Mr. Williams still wasn’t exactly the saint she’d once thought, but he hadn’t been nearly as bad as she feared. He’d been…human. Lord knew, she had made her own share of mistakes in relationships, and she’d hate to be judged solely on those.
So she wouldn’t judge Mr. Williams, either.
He might just be worth doing a memorial video for, after all.
Chapter Sixteen
It was close to evening on Monday when a stream of piano music drew Sam from his work. The song was familiar. His mother had always loved playing. It had been her way of expressing herself—her happiness, her anger, her sorrow, whatever mood struck her—when she took to the beautiful instrument.
But he hadn’t heard her play for years. Since before he’d left for college.
He shut down the computer and decided to head over to the main house from his suite in the pool house. Without the distraction of the words on the screen before him, his mind slipped back to the one person who’d been sliding in and out of his consciousness for the last twenty-four hours.
Allie.
And just like every time he thought about her, there was a tightness in his chest that made the memory both pleasurable and painful. Making love to her had been amazing. And as sappy and ridiculous as it seemed, their lovemaking had felt like…coming home.
But then he remembered his suspicions. Suspicions he’d called her on and that she’d denied with such sincerity and dignity he wanted to believe her. The worst thing was, as the hours had passed since that conversation, he’d become more and more convinced he was wrong about her. There had to be another explanation. Allie had been nothing but honest with him. He knew in his mind he could trust her. It was his damned heart that kept getting in the way, throwing doubts at him because he’d been so hurt by trust in the past.
Although he had called in to work this morning, having promised his mother he would take her to her doctor today, he already had decided he needed to see Allie. Tonight. They had to talk. First, he needed to make sure his mother was doing okay and had dinner. And then he would head over to Allie’s house.
Had it only been yesterday since he’d seen her? It seemed so much longer.
Sam entered the security code for the backdoor and stepped into the house. The music got louder, surrounding him. It
sounded…happy.
His mother’s frail form was wrapped in a silk robe with a blue and violet flowery pattern. He was somewhat taken aback. She never came downstairs unless she was fully dressed. It was just not done. Unless she was sick, and even then, the images of that were few and far between.
What was up?
She smiled when he took a seat on the bench next to her but didn’t stop playing until she reached the end of the piece. It was so much like when he was little, sitting next to his beautiful mother, adoring her and thinking she was the most wonderful person in the world.
“I imagine you have some questions,” she said as the last notes faded, her fingers still on the keys, touching them lovingly. She started to play again, very softly. Something from memory. “I’m sorry you heard us arguing that night. Your father and I had never fought like that before. I’m sorry you had to hear us like that.”
“I’m glad I did. If not, I would have continued to think you and dad were happy—in love with each other.” He sounded cynical. But he was just being honest.
Her fingers pushed hard on the piano keys, and the sharp strains matched her tone. “Don’t mistake that fight for something it wasn’t.” After another moment, her light, deft touch returned, and her shoulders dropped, the music appearing to calm her. “Your father and I may not have been hopelessly in love with each other, but we did love and care for each other. There’s a difference.”
“Were you ever in love with each other?”
“Back when I first met your father, I believe I was in love with him. As much as any self-absorbed, recently turned eighteen-year old could be. It was only a few years after you came along when we began to realize maybe we weren’t the same kids as when we’d first met. Maybe, if we’d waited until we were older and knew ourselves better, we might have discovered we weren’t meant to be together.”
“Not like you and Jackson Williams?”
Her fingers froze above the keys. He was being an asshole, he knew it, but couldn’t stop himself.
“I’m not proud of the way we saw each other, but…yes. I loved him. We loved each other very much, and I know we would have made each other very happy, if…”
You Again Page 18
