“Maybe I did,” she conceded. “That doesn’t make you any less crazy.”
“No, but it does give me back my partner in crime.”
“I don’t know if I would go that far.” Arden tried not to react to his words. She told herself they meant nothing. It was a slip of the tongue in the heat of the moment. But adrenaline buzzed through her veins. “Where did you learn to drive like that anyway?”
Another grin flashed. “Just a God-given talent. I’m surprised you didn’t remember that about me.”
“Maybe I tried to forget.” Arden faced forward, watching the street. “Do you think we lost him? That is, if anyone was following us in the first place.”
“We’ll sit here for a minute or two and make sure.” Reid seemed to relax as time ticked away. He rolled down his windows so they could hear the sounds from the street. The smell of barbecue and fresh bread drifted in. “You hungry? We could stop somewhere for a bite to eat.”
Arden was starving, as a matter of fact, and it would be so easy to take Reid up on his offer. Drift right back into the comfortable relationship of their youth. Have some wine, some food, some good conversation. She couldn’t think of a more pleasant way to spend the evening, but rushing things was a very bad idea. They were still building a work rapport and for now a little personal distance was necessary. Just wait and see how things play out. She didn’t have the stamina for a broken heart. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m beat. Another time?”
He nodded. “Yeah, no problem. I could use an early night myself.” He eased out of the alley and melded into the late-afternoon traffic. Keeping an eye on the rearview mirror, he maneuvered effortlessly through the clogged streets, pulling to the curb in front of Berdeaux Place within a matter of minutes.
Arden reached for the door handle. “You don’t need to get out,” she said when he killed the engine. “I changed the security code so that even if anyone used a key to get in, they’d set off the alarm. I would have been notified if there’d been a breach.” Brave words, but the truth of the matter was that Arden dreaded going inside the empty house. Feared another long night of sounds and shadows and dark memories.
“I’ll come in and take a quick look around. For my own peace of mind.” He reached across her and removed a small pistol from the glove box.
Arden gasped. “Reid. What are you doing with a gun?”
“I have a license, don’t worry.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Lawyers make enemies,” he said as he tucked the gun into the back of his belt.
“You mean like Brody?”
“He or someone else came into my house while you were there alone. I don’t intend to be caught off guard again.”
Arden started to protest—guns scared her—but who was she to cast stones? Hadn’t she slept with her grandmother’s katana the night before?
They got out of the car and walked up the veranda steps together. She unlocked the door, turned off the alarm and trailed Reid through the house as he went from room to room. Then she led the way upstairs. She refused to go inside her mother’s room. She leaned a shoulder against the wall and waved toward the door. “I’ll wait out here for you.”
While he was inside, she hollered through the doorway. “See anything?”
“Nope, all clear in here.”
“Smell anything?”
There was a significant pause. “Like what?”
“Nothing. I just wondered.”
He came out into the hallway and gave her a puzzled look. “What was that about?”
“I heard something last night. I went into my mother’s room to check things out and I noticed a magnolia-scented candle on her dresser. For a split second, I had the crazy notion that someone had been inside her room burning that candle.”
Reid frowned down at her. “You told me you were kept awake by squirrels.”
“A scrabbling sound brought me upstairs, and yes, it probably was just squirrels. Or worse, rats.” She shuddered. “I told you this morning. Being in this house is a lot more unnerving than I thought it would be.”
“Then move into a hotel for the time being. It would certainly make me feel better.”
“I can’t afford that right now and, besides, I don’t want to. I don’t want to become that person who’s afraid of her own shadow. I’ll take the necessary precautions, but I’m not going to be forced out of my own home. I’m sure that’s just what my grandfather would like to happen.”
“Stubborn as always.”
“I prefer to think of myself as determined.”
Reid checked the second-floor bedrooms and took a peek in the attic. Satisfied that everything was as it should be, they went back downstairs. He paused in the doorway of the parlor to glance out into the garden. “You think your uncle is working in the greenhouse?”
“I doubt it. I saw him earlier today. He gave me back the key to the side gate. He’d have to crawl over the wall like you did to get inside.”
“Assuming he didn’t make himself a spare key,” Reid said.
“Why would he do that? Why not just keep the original key? I never asked for it back.”
“Maybe he thought you would eventually. I’m just thinking out loud.” Reid went over and opened one of the doors, letting in the late-afternoon breeze. He moved out into the garden and Arden followed reluctantly. If the house unnerved her, the garden put her even more on edge, especially when the sun went down and the bats came out.
She folded her arms around her middle. “I saw him today. My uncle Calvin. He gave me a portrait he’d painted of my mother. He said he worked from a picture of her that was taken here in the garden on the night of the Mayor’s Ball. I remember the dress she wore that night. Red chiffon. It floated like a dream around her when she walked. And she’d tucked a magnolia blossom in her hair.” Arden paused, suddenly drowning in memories. “You can’t imagine how beautiful she looked.”
“I think I have some idea,” Reid murmured. “Some people think you’re the spitting image of Camille.”
“A pale copy, maybe.” His gaze on her was a little too intense so Arden made a production of plucking a sprig of jasmine and holding it to her nose. “Should we check the greenhouse while we’re out here? I don’t think my uncle came by, but I’d like to make sure the door is secure. The latch sometimes doesn’t catch and I’d rather not have the wind bumping it at all hours...” She trailed off, letting the jasmine drop to her feet as she stared up into the trees. The light shimmering down through the leaves was already starting to wane. Twilight would soon fall and then darkness. She pictured the shadowy sidewalks outside the walls of Berdeaux Place and shivered. “Do you remember how it was that summer?” she asked.
“The summer your mother died?”
“Yes, I mean afterward, when we started hearing about the other victims. No one ever talked about the Twilight Killer in front of me, of course, but I overheard just enough to be terrified. I used to wake up in the middle of the night and think that I could hear his heartbeat in my room. I imagined him underneath my bed or hiding in my closet. Sometimes I would get up and go over to the window just to make sure he wasn’t down in the garden staring up at my window.”
“It was a very dark time in this city.”
“Reid, what if we were right all those years ago?” Arden turned to him in the failing light. He stood in shadows, his features dark and mysterious and yet becoming once again as familiar to her as her own reflection. “What if the person who murdered all those women, including my mother, is still out there somewhere? The real Twilight Killer. Maybe he’s taken more lives over the years, even before Haley Cooper. He could have broadened his hunting ground and spread out his kills so that the police never connected his victims. An animal with those kinds of cravings can’t remain dormant forever. If he is still out there, then he framed an innocent ma
n once. Maybe his impulses are growing stronger and he feels another spree coming on so he needs another scapegoat. He started seeding the ground with Haley.”
“By scapegoat, you mean me?”
“That’s what worries me,” she said.
Reid didn’t chide her for letting her imagination get the better of her as she thought he might. Instead, he let his gaze travel over the grounds, settling his focus on the summerhouse dome. “Assuming Orson Lee Finch really is innocent, he made the perfect patsy. Nearly invisible and moving at will in and out of the gardens South of Broad Street. Plenty of opportunities to observe and follow his victims. And once arrested, he had to rely on a public defender. No money, no friends, no family to speak of.” He turned back to Arden. “I’m not Finch. I have access to the finest defense team in the city, not to mention a plethora of private detectives. I’m hardly powerless, so you have to ask yourself why a spree killer would want to try and frame someone with my resources. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless you’re not even the real target. Maybe I am.” Arden shivered. With the setting sun, a stronger breeze blew in from the harbor, carrying the faintest trace of pluff mud through the trees. Her grandmother used to call that particular aroma the perfume of rumors and old scandal. The fecund smell was there one moment, gone the next, replaced by the ubiquitous scent of jasmine.
“Maybe we’re overthinking this,” Reid said. “Trying to connect everything back to the Twilight Killer is making us overlook the revenge angle. Maybe this is nothing more than a simple frame job. A way to get to my father because Brody can’t touch him.”
“So Detective Graham being in the bar the night of the murder was just a coincidence?”
“I don’t know what to think about Graham.” The breeze ruffled Reid’s hair, making Arden long to run her fingers through the mussed strands. “I need to tell you something else about my conversation with Boone today.”
His tone made her breath catch. “What?”
“He suggested that we should take a look at your family photo albums.”
“Why?” she asked in surprise.
“He thinks Clement Mayfair might not have been your mother’s biological father.”
Arden whirled. “What?”
“You’ve never considered the possibility?” Reid asked. “You never heard any talk to that effect?”
“Not a word. But...” She trailed off as her mind went back through those photo albums. So many portraits and candid shots of Arden and her mother and grandmother, fewer of Calvin, and none at all of her grandfather. Hardly surprising considering the lingering animosity. “If I’m honest, I can’t say that would surprise me. It makes a sick kind of sense, doesn’t it? Why Grandmother took my mother and left Calvin behind with my grandfather? He probably threatened to take both her children away from her.”
“Has he made contact?”
“No. But I’m more certain than ever that his real interest is in acquiring this house. He doesn’t care anything about me. He never did.”
“His loss,” Reid said.
Arden shrugged. “I’m sure he doesn’t see it that way. I think I should go see him. I know you advised against it, but I want to make it clear that I’m not afraid of him and that he is never going to get his hands on Grandmother’s house.”
“Just hold off for a bit,” Reid said. “Everything we’ve talked about is pure speculation. There’s no point in antagonizing him until he makes a move. It’s possible that he really does want to make amends.”
“I’ll wait. But not forever.” Arden turned to make her way to the greenhouse. Reid had stopped on the path and was staring in the opposite direction. “What’s wrong?”
“Let’s check out the summerhouse first.” He nodded toward the ornate dome. “We’re right here and I’d like to see how it’s held up over the years.”
“I’d rather not. I don’t like going inside,” Arden admitted.
“Since when? You used to love the summerhouse. It was our place.”
“It was his place first,” she said.
He gave her a bemused look. “Are you talking about your mother’s killer? There was never any evidence that he hid inside.”
“The magnolia blossom on the steps would suggest otherwise.”
“Okay, but that was a long time ago, and you and I made this place our headquarters for years. Why so reticent now?”
“I can’t explain it,” Arden said. “It just feels...wrong. Evil.”
“It’s just a place. A beautiful old summerhouse. You’ve been away too long. You’ve forgotten the good things that happened inside. Maybe a quick look around is all you need to put the ghosts to rest. You may find the good memories outweigh the bad.”
Maybe that’s what I’m really afraid of.
Nevertheless, she followed him up the steps and into the summerhouse. The latticework windows cast mysterious shadows on the floor while twilight edged toward the domed ceiling. Arden turned in a slow circle. The pillows that had cushioned their heads as they’d lain on their backs staring up at the stars were gone, along with all their treasures. The place smelled of dust and decay. But some things remained. Somewhere on the wall were their carved initials; Arden didn’t want to look too closely. She didn’t want to remember how much she’d given up when she left Charleston fourteen years ago.
“It’s a little the worse for wear,” Reid said as he moved around the space. “But it does bring back memories.”
“Our first grown-up kiss was here,” she murmured. “Do you remember?”
“Of course, I remember.”
She turned at the tenderness in his voice. Tenderness...and something more. Something darker and headier. Desire. Throbbing just below the surface. Not so strange, she supposed, that they would both feel strong emotions in this place.
“I kissed you and then you ran away,” he said. “It was quite a blow to my ego.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of what it meant. I knew after that kiss that nothing would ever be the same. I was afraid of losing my best friend.”
His voice lowered intimately. “You didn’t lose me.”
“Easy to say. Not so easy to believe after fourteen years.”
“I’ve always been right here, Arden.” He slid his fingers into her hair, tilting her head so that he could stare down at her. “See?” he said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of in here.”
Arden wasn’t so sure. She parted her lips, waiting to see what he would do.
Into the quivering silence came a distant sound, a rhythmic thumping that she could have easily believed was her own heartbeat.
Reid glanced toward the door as his hand fell to his side. “Did you hear that?”
She turned to peer out into the garden. “It’s coming from the greenhouse. The wind is rising. It must have caught the door.”
Reid was all business now. “We’d better go have a look.”
They hurried down the steps together and Arden was overly conscious of Reid beside her, of the memories that still swirled in the ether as they approached the greenhouse. Enough daylight remained so that they could see inside the glass walls. Arden was once again reminded of her uncle’s paintings and the feeling his art had evoked of being on the outside looking in.
She gazed down the empty aisles toward the back of the greenhouse, where she could see the silhouette of her mother’s cereus. “I should check the progress while we’re here. I don’t want to risk missing the blooms and that luscious scent.” Like moonlight and romance and deep, dark secrets, her mother would say.
“Arden, wait,” Reid said as she stepped through the door.
“It’s fine. There’s no one here. Come have a closer look.”
She was well down the aisle when she heard a loud crack above her and glanced up a split second before Reid
grabbed her from behind. They dropped to the ground and instinctively rolled beneath one of the worktables. Arden tucked her legs and wrapped her arms around her head as Reid covered her body with his. She heard a series of pops as one of the heavy panels gave way and crashed to the stone floor beside them. The tempered glass exploded into harmless chips, but the weight of the panel would have crushed anyone standing in the aisle.
Chapter Fourteen
A structural issue—that was the consensus of the inspectors Arden hired to check out the greenhouse. Over the years, some of the clips that held the glass panels in place had come loose or fallen off altogether and the elements had eroded the silicone sealant. Add in a rusted frame, and the roof panels had been one stray breeze away from disaster for years. Everything pointed to coincidence, and Arden told herself she should just be thankful no one had been hurt. Still, she couldn’t stop the little voice in her head that whispered of sabotage.
Before the greenhouse was disassembled and carted away, she had workers move her mother’s cereus to the terrace. She liked that location better anyway. Now she could watch the blooms open from the safety of a locked door if she so chose.
Her return to Charleston had been harrowing, to say the least. Luckily, she knew how to tuck and roll and keep her head down. She spent a lot of time at work, burying herself in research and planning. Reid had outside meetings almost every day so she spent hours alone in his house. The solitude never bothered her, which was strange since she could barely spend one night alone in Berdeaux Place without succumbing to her dark imagination. She hadn’t experienced any more strange sounds or scents, but every now and then her gaze would stray to her mother’s bedroom door and she would wonder again if someone had been inside burning that magnolia-scented candle.
By Friday, the website had gone live, the business cards were printed, and everything was in place to approach Ginger Vreeland’s uncle—a retired welder named Tate Smith—about her whereabouts.
She and Reid made the trek down south into marsh country together. The drive was pleasant, the day crystal clear, but the results of their search proved frustrating. Although Arden had searched public records for the last known address, the house appeared abandoned, as if no one had lived there in months, if not years. No one answered the door and none of the neighbors claimed to know Tate Smith or his niece. Arden wondered if Mr. Smith had been that reclusive or if the neighbors were simply protecting his privacy. She clipped a business card to a hastily scribbled message and slipped it underneath his door. Then she and Reid headed back to the city.
Killer Investigation Page 16
