“Even though he ended up breaking your heart? Ending things so quickly? You forget, I saw the letters. The last one where you were pleading with him not to end things.”
“Ah. Yes. He was trying to do the right thing. By you and our family. He did try to end things, which was when I wrote that last letter. It brought him back to me.” She resumed playing softly, and Sam sat, enraptured despite himself. “In fact, he had found a teaching position in Oakland. He knew how much being near you when you went off to UC Berkley would mean to me. I was planning on going with him.”
“You were leaving Dad to run away with Mr. Williams? To be close to…me?”
She didn’t answer, just continued to play.
Sam was stunned. That was a serious move. And his father? How would he have taken it? Actually, he didn’t really think his father would have been heartbroken by the news. Not at all. Maybe disappointed, but he would have moved on. His father’d had his own life, a full one that often didn’t include his family.
“It was probably better that way for everyone, including Jackson,” she went on. “I knew he hadn’t lived like a monk before we were together, but there was someone he’d dated earlier who hadn’t taken his decision to end things very well. I didn’t know all the details, and I didn’t want to know. But it was someone he worked with, and apparently, she couldn’t accept it was over. It was becoming a very volatile situation.”
It took Sam a moment to process this information. Mr. Williams had been seeing two different women? Still, that wasn’t so unusual. And he had broken off with the first one before embarking on his next relationship.
Another thought occurred to Sam. “Volatile enough that this other woman might have tried to hurt him? Maybe kill him? Did you ever consider telling the police? When he disappeared, the police could have followed up, and—”
“But you forget, no one knew he’d been murdered. I didn’t even suspect such a thing, Lord help me.” Her voice broke then. “I’d been away that weekend with your father. It was something I’d committed to, and I didn’t want him to lose face among his colleagues by not being there. It was one of the last events we were to attend together before—”
She stopped, choking back a sob. Sam put his arm around her and gently squeezed her arm to give her strength and comfort.
She inhaled and tried again. “I wasn’t alarmed when I didn’t hear from Jackson on Sunday. Not yet. But when he didn’t show up for his classes on Monday, and then the park rangers found his abandoned car…well, by then, everyone presumed there had been a terrible, tragic hiking accident. Myself included.”
He pushed out a breath. “Yeah. Me, too.”
She began playing again. “In fact, I blamed myself all these years. Jackson had been upset that I was attending the conference with your father. So I figured he went out hiking, as he usually did when he wanted to think, to get away from things and work out his frustrations. For months, I tormented myself, imagining him with broken bones and suffering, in pain, lost, maybe attacked by animals. It tore my heart to pieces. After the police closed the case, and everyone presumed he was dead, your father broached the possibility of us staying together. With Jackson gone, you gone, it seemed like the best thing, so I said yes.”
“Have you told all this to the police? That is a powerful motive. Whoever this woman was Mr. Williams had been involved with—”
“I did. Yesterday, before you arrived, I told the detective. And let me tell you, it really lightened my guilt to finally set things right after all these years.” She finished the piano piece and exhaled softly, placing her hands on her lap. “Now, I think I’ll see if Patty has anything prepared for lunch. Can I get you something?”
“No, thanks.” She left him there, staring at the piano keys.
His mother and Mr. Williams had truly loved each other. And as hurt and betrayed as he had felt for all these years, he found it didn’t hurt nearly as much anymore. Who was he to judge his mother for falling in love? Mr. Williams, as people went, had been a pretty good guy. And from the sound of it, his feelings were sincere. They would have been happy together.
Until someone killed him.
He had been dating someone else. Another teacher at St. Andrew’s. And she hadn’t taken the news he’d moved on very well. Volatile was the word his mother had used.
Enough to poison him? To stab him and kill him?
Sam needed to look through his senior yearbook at the faculty listings. See if there was something—someone—he’d missed.
Because if this woman was still on the faculty, she would have been watching Allie’s progress closely, trying to thwart her efforts. Like maybe setting a fire, if she thought there was something in those boxes that would link her to the crime, or vandalizing Allie’s car to scare her off.
She also could have known Jackson Williams’s sister had sent a package of his things to Allie—hell, that box had been sitting in the office in plain sight for God knew how long before he’d taken it to Allie himself. The killer, if indeed it was a teacher, would have been anxious to get her hands on that box. To make sure there was nothing incriminating inside. And she would have come across his mother’s letters. And known exactly who had written them. So in another effort to turn attention onto someone else, she would have had good reason to tip off the police about his mom.
He knew it.
Someone else had betrayed him.
Not Allie.
He jumped to his feet, slamming down the lid of the piano.
If Allie finished that tribute and presented it to the committee, it could be all over for the killer. The guilty person could easily be exposed as the murderer by some clue hidden in the old video footage or photos.
The thing was, that person had already killed once. What was to prevent them from killing again?
Allie could be in terrible danger.
As panic started to sweep over him, he ordered himself to calm down. Allie was still at school, surrounded by people. She also knew better than to go anywhere on her own that wasn’t safe.
She’d be fine for now.
The best thing Sam could do for her at this point was to figure out who was doing this.
He had to stop the killer. Before it was too late.
…
The last bell rang to announce the end of a long Monday. Allie barely looked up, too busy reviewing her video. It was almost there. Just a little more editing…
A burst of laughter from some of the sophomore boys gathered by their locker pulled her focus from her project. Okay. Maybe it was time for a break. Definitely for some coffee. Saving her work on the computer, she slipped her clogs back on and made her way along the hallway filled with students pouring from their classes.
The faculty lounge was quiet, with only a handful of teachers still hanging around. Two of the history teachers were deep in their own private conversation. The girls’ P.E. teacher was on her cell phone having an animated discussion. Tim was busy scratching away on a clipboard—probably putting together some play for next season’s soccer team. And Señora Sanchez was sipping what was likely her specially mixed tea leaves as she gazed out the window. No one even looked Allie’s way as she walked in.
Which was fine with her, since she had a lot to think about. A whiff of the acrid-smelling coffee simmering on the burner told her she’d be better off starting a fresh pot. Grabbing the pot, she rinsed it out, measured coffee into the filter, and flipped the switch. Then she took a seat, waiting for it to brew.
Funny how just this morning she’d been so desolate, ready to scrap the homage to Mr. Williams, willing to think the worst of him. But speaking to Jeremy had helped her rediscover her mission again, and she’d spent every moment of her free time today on the project. The big reveal to the planning committee was on Thursday. Her video just had to be approved.
She was so glad her doubts about him had been erased. It would have totally broken her heart to think that all the wisdom and encouragement he’d given her had only
been a sham, hiding the true person inside. But now she was certain, Mr. Williams had been a good man, inside and out.
She just hoped she had lived up to his expectations, educating young people as he had, helping them see their true potential. It was too bad he wasn’t around to see the difference he’d made in her life and in so many other people’s. Maybe even Tiffany’s, who seemed to have come out better than most young girls in her situation.
Allie was ashamed of herself for once again falling for Meredith’s rumors—or nearly so. But on the heels of discovering those letters and Mr. Williams’s affair with Elizabeth Fratto, she was going to give herself some slack.
But thinking about those letters just depressed her. Sam actually thought she’d broken her promise and gone to the police. After everything they’d been through together, she’d have hoped he’d understand she could never betray him. If she had gone to the police, she wouldn’t have been so sneaky about it. So dishonest. She would have told him.
The coffee maker beeped loudly. She came to her feet and filled her mug. She’d barely returned the pot to the burner when the history teachers walked up, filled their mugs, and left without so much as a thanks. Sighing at their lack of manners, she sweetened her coffee per her usual ritual and returned to her seat.
A big question was hanging over her from her musings. If she hadn’t called the police, who had? There weren’t many people who knew about the affairs or the letters. Just her, Sam, and his mother—and it wasn’t as if Mrs. Fratto would have made an anonymous tip instead of just going to the police herself with the information. Jeremy hadn’t mentioned anything about the possibility that Mr. Williams had had an affair with a student, and she’d given him several opportunities to reveal that knowledge.
She was missing something.
She looked up to find Señora Sanchez staring at her from over the rim of her tea cup. Not just staring at her, more like…studying her. Carefully.
A prickle of alarm hit Allie. When had the room cleared?
Señora Sanchez didn’t look the least bit guilty at being discovered observing her. If anything, she seemed amused.
A new suspicion hit Allie. Could the señora have been the person who tipped off the police? It certainly hadn’t been Allie, Sam, or his mother.
It made sense. It was Señora Sanchez who’d told them Mr. Williams had been having an affair with a married woman—the only one who’d ever mentioned it. What better way to deflect attention from herself than to shift attention to this other woman? And regardless of how little Señora Sanchez claimed to have known Mr. Williams, there had been bitterness in her voice when she’d made the accusation. Bitterness Allie hadn’t recognized until now.
My God. She needed to find out if her suspicion was true.
“Hola Señora McBride. I trust you are well?” the other woman asked.
Startled, Allie took a large swallow of coffee, the scalding heat tearing down her throat and bringing tears to her eyes. But the pain was nothing compared to the sudden fear creeping up her spine. Señora Sanchez never opened a conversation up with anyone, least of all Allie.
“Y—yes. Thank you,” she managed.
“Your video of that English teacher is coming along? You’ve made some progress, no?”
Allie forced a smile. “Better than I expected in light of our recent rash of accidents.” Did she dare ask her about—
Footsteps coming from the hallway snapped her attention toward the door. Marie popped in and filled her mug with the last of the coffee. The normalcy of the act made Allie relax a little.
The fear that had prickled her skin only moments ago now seemed silly.
Just ask.
“Señora, the oddest thing happened over the weekend,” she said before she could change her mind. “The police received an anonymous tip about the case. Someone reported that Mrs. Fratto might be a person of interest. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Señora Sanchez set her cup down and gave Allie a puzzled smile. “Not at all. Señor Fratto’s mother, you are referring to?”
“Yes.” Allie studied the older woman, who shrugged.
“That was all so long ago. It means nothing to me or anyone else now. Except for maybe Señora Fratto.” The words were said with nonchalance, but there was a flicker of something in her golden brown eyes when she looked at Allie. Almost like…anger. Loathing. Then it was gone, and she smiled. But her smile felt almost predatory, sending a flush of goose bumps down Allie’s arms.
She stood and grabbed her still full mug, fighting an overwhelming urge to run from the room. But she managed to stroll casually to the door. “I better get going. I still have to finish that video before I pick up my daughter.”
“Yes, of course. Good-bye. Send your daughter my best.”
Allie didn’t look back or make any more attempts at politeness. Once out of the woman’s sight, she sprinted down the hall, trying not to spill the hot coffee. When she reached the sanctuary of the newsroom, she took a steadying breath, her hand over her heart.
Despite Señora Sanchez’s earlier denial that she knew Jackson Williams well, Allie was certain the woman wasn’t being honest. And there was only one reason she’d have had to lie about that…
Jeremy believed Mr. Williams had had an affair with one of the teachers. And he’d hinted at an ensuing human resource nightmare because of the breakup. And it was worth noting that Jeremy hadn’t mentioned anything about an illicit affair with the teacher—just that the dating wasn’t prudent in such a small work environment. Which would imply the teacher had been single.
Señora Sanchez had been recently divorced back then, with a son in college. Even though she’d have been in her early forties and at least ten years Mr. Williams’s senior, Margarita Sanchez would have been considered attractive by most men.
It was more than possible she was the teacher Mr. Williams had dated.
What else did Allie know about her? Not much, since the woman was so stand-offish and not exactly Allie’s biggest fan. From South America—Ecuador, was it?—she’d been married three times, her last husband having died in a drowning accident just before Allie started at St. Andrew’s.
What would Jackson Williams have had in common with this woman? Señora Sanchez was such a snob about her culture, her background, her heredity. She rarely mingled with the other teachers. And Mr. Williams was as Wonder Bread as they come. From Ohio, for crying out loud.
But suddenly, Allie remembered, there had been a copy of Don Quixote in the box containing his personal possessions. In Spanish… Hmm. If he was able to converse in Señora Sanchez’s native tongue—would he have been deemed worthy of her friendship?
Allie hadn’t looked too carefully at the book before, but…could there have been an inscription inside? Particularly if it had been given as a gift from—or to—someone he was dating?
It was a stretch, but Allie was unable to stop thinking about the possibility.
Detective Johnson had given her an inventory list of everything the police took as evidence. Where had she put it…? She dug through her handbag. There! She pulled out the two-page list and scanned it.
The book wasn’t listed.
Her pulse kicked up.
The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that she’d found the key to solving the murder. Was the Spanish book the reason she’d been attacked twice? If the book contained a damning inscription—
Allie halted her wild train of thought.
It all seemed so farfetched. So she thought it through again. Yep. She sounded certifiable.
But she also couldn’t help believing she was right.
She just needed to find a way of proving it before she sounded the alarm on a witch hunt that could make her sound like a lunatic.
Heck, that was easy. She could confront Jeremy with what she suspected about the Spanish teacher, and he could confirm if Señora Sanchez was, or was not, the woman who—
She looked at the t
ime and cursed. Damn! Jeremy would be gone by now. There was a standing principal’s meeting every Monday at five.
Allie hesitated for only a moment, then picked up the phone. Sam would tell her if she was crazy or not. Even if he wasn’t talking to her.
She got his voicemail.
The line beeped. “Sam. It’s…me. I may have found something. I was looking through the inventory list and think I remember what’s missing. A book. Don Quixote. Call me, please. I’d like to see if you remember seeing it, too—it was in Spanish.”
There. She hadn’t accused anyone of anything, just mentioned a book. She jumped when she heard a muted slam. Someone closing and locking their classroom door. She looked at the clock again. Hell.
Soon, she’d be alone in the building.
Sam, please call.
Another minute ticked by. That was it. She was getting out of here. She’d head home and wait there for Sam to call her. And she’d try Jeremy later.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she walked out of the stairwell and stepped into the fresh, warm air outside. There were a number of students hanging out in the parking lot. Safety in numbers. She waved when they called good-bye to her. Everything appeared perfectly normal.
And yet, that didn’t stop the wave of chills running up and down her spine, despite the warm sun on her back. She walked quickly to her car.
On the way home, she called Ryan for another report on Violet, smiling when her daughter came on to tell her how much better she felt.
This was normal. This was her life. She had let her imagination run wild a little back there.
She blew her daughter a kiss over the phone and promised she’d see her the next afternoon.
When she pulled onto her own street, she relaxed further. This was home. This was safe.
Everything was quiet, the trees blanketed with spring blossoms and the birds chirping like mad. She pulled into the driveway and waited for a moment as the garage door opened, looking around for any signs of trouble. Nothing.
You Again Page 19
