by Vicki Hinze
But he already knew why he hadn’t asked. For the same reason he hadn’t asked in the hundreds of times he had seen her since: He didn’t want to know.
Back then, he had plans. He was going off to college and to make something of himself, and she was married to another man. The wrong man. If Thomas had asked the question then, he would know the truth now, but he was seventeen years old. What seventeen year old with plans would dare touch that question. It was a sharp and unforgiving double-edged sword.
If his suspicions proved true, Thomas would have had to do something. The right thing. Even then he’d known that would have been disastrous for his future, for her and for her child’s futures, and for Vernon. Thomas couldn’t compete with Vernon Bradshaw. He couldn’t give Connie all that a rich and successful investor could give her. Thomas loved her, but he couldn’t be the kind of husband or father she and her baby deserved. One day, that would change. But at seventeen that day hadn’t yet arrived.
A lot changed the morning Vinn had been born. The temptation to just see him had been too great to resist. Late that night, Thomas had sneaked into the hospital to get a glimpse of him—not that Connie or anyone else ever knew it. And as the years had passed and Vinn had grown and Thomas had seen the boy around town, he’d continued to wonder. He took to photographing Vinn early on, and to comparing those photos to ones of himself at Vinn’s age. Year after year, Thomas would compare and the result was always the same. They could have been twins.
Once, the year Vinn had been Joseph in the church Christmas program—more for his height than his acting ability—Thomas had almost succumbed and asked Connie if he was Vinn’s father. But then Vernon had taken his seat at her side and Thomas had seen the way they sat with their heads together, whispering about Vinn and his performance, and they looked so happy. Thomas felt like an intruder. He had been an intruder. And he hadn’t said a word.
What good could come from knowing? They were a family, and inserting himself, he would just mess that up for all of them. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it.
Regaining his resolve, Thomas drove around the rim of the lake to Zion Cole’s home, pulled in to the circle drive parking, and then cut the engine. Depleted and exhausted was the penalty he paid for thinking back to those tumultuous times. And at the moment, he felt the heavy weight of both. Connie and Vernon had made a good life together. Thomas was the outsider then and now. He didn’t belong. He’d forfeited any right to belong the day he had discovered she was pregnant and had said nothing.
He had chosen not to ask.
He closed his eyes, thought back to today, at the press conference. The memory of Connie’s screams, her soul-torn desperation, ripped through his chest. Her marriage had endured, and yet today, when Connie and Vinn had most needed Vernon, he had stood outside City Hall in the middle of all those people like a zoned-out addict instead of going inside and trying to comfort his wife. Even from the lower steps outside, Thomas had heard Connie screaming, and Vinn yelling, begging for them to get her out of there. Yet Vernon hadn’t moved until summoned.
Dana knew. But how?
Sylvia. Thomas’s mind raced. She must have told Dana about Connie. God knew Thomas had never told a soul in his life, but Sylvia had threatened to tell people. Everyone, actually. It had cost Thomas a small fortune to buy her silence.
He couldn’t do what he was tempted to do: toss her out on her blackmailing ear. Connie and Vinn would have been hurt most, and Sylvia knew it. Thomas had to care because of the stringent requirements the council put on him and his image. But that was a gnat-sized concern. Connie and Vinn were dragonflies. So Thomas had bought Sylvia’s silence to protect them. That heartless woman would ruin their lives and never look back, or blink twice.
Thomas rubbed at his jaw, remembering the day the blackmail had begun. He’d spilled iced tea on his shirt at lunch and had gone home to switch to a fresh one before a meeting with the council. Sylvia had been there, in his bedroom, and she had the photos of him and Vinn splayed across his bed…
She heard him enter and looked up at him, her long blond hair hugging her cheek. “Well, aren’t you the sly one?” Her smile was cold and calculating.
“What are you doing?” He barely leashed his outrage. “Why are you going through my things?”
Pinching two photographs between her forefingers and thumbs, she hiked a shoulder. “I’m your housekeeper, Thomas. It’s my job to tidy your things.”
Fury burned his stomach. “Not anymore.” He wagged a finger at the photos. “Put those down and go. You’re fired, Sylvia.”
She didn’t move. Or drop the photos. “You might want to rethink that, Mayor. It never pays to be rash…unless you’re ready to lose the election and be forced out of Shutter Lake.”
“You’re blackmailing me?” He couldn’t believe it. How could she be so brazen and merciless?
“Of course not. Blackmail is illegal, and such a nasty word.” She batted her mascaraed lashes. “I prefer cooperation assistance.”
He wanted to smack her. He wanted to tell her to get out and tell anyone she wanted. But this wasn’t just about him. It was about Connie and Vinn, and Vernon, too. Did he know or even suspect Vinn wasn’t his?
Didn’t matter. They would all still pay the heaviest price for Thomas giving in to his temper. “How much is your cooperation assistance going to cost me?”
She named a sum. “And I want Sparkle named Business of the Year.”
“Your cleaning service won the award last year,” he reminded her, wondering who she’d blackmailed for it then.
”I want it again.” Her deep red lips settled into a pout. “No one has won it two years in a row before. I want Sparkle to be the first.”
“Sylvia, I only have one vote on that board. The entire chamber has a voice.”
“Then I suggest you use your charm to convincingly persuade others.” She held up the photos. “Unless you want these spread around town.”
Thomas accepted defeat. For himself, he’d fight her. But for Connie and Vinn, he’d pay the devil’s dues. “I’ll do what I can.”
“So tell me. Does he know?” She nodded toward the photo of Vinn. “Does Connie know you photograph him?”
“Of course he doesn’t know.” Thomas frowned. “I’m not sure myself.”
“Ah, I see.” She smiled. “She never told you. But she was naughty, sleeping with a student.”
That infuriated Thomas. “Get out, Sylvia. Just go.”
“No problem.” She dropped the photos and stood up. “Two o’clock Friday. Have the money delivered to Sparkle by then, or at three o’clock…”
“Just get out.”
~
“Thomas?”
Hard raps fell against Thomas’s car window, pulling him and his attention back to his sitting parked in Zion Cole’s driveway.
From the other side of the glass, Zion waved. “Thomas, are you all right in there?”
Thomas sucked in a sharp breath, let it out slowly. His “maybe son” in jail for murder, his “perfect” town in an emotional uproar over the death of his blackmailer, the love of his life still happily married to another man, and—his responsibility—the illusion of Shutter Lake as the safest and most idyllic community in the country shattered. No, he was not okay. He most definitely was not okay.
Thomas forced himself to smile and opened the car door. “I’m fine, Zion.” He stepped out and extended his hand, shook Zion’s. “Gathering my thoughts. That’s all.”
Unfortunately, most of them centered on the mess Zion Cole’s black-hearted daughter had made of their town, getting herself killed….
Chapter Six
Tuesday, October 9
The “Express Yourself” assembly proved as necessary as Dana feared it might. The uproar at the press conference had impacted the parents sufficiently to pass along their anxieties to their kids and now, from five to seventeen, here they all sat lined up on rows of bleachers in the gym with Dana standing front and cent
er before them, reassuring them for the past fifteen minutes that they were safe. Hopefully, now they were ready to settle down. Their nervous twitches, itching, bouncing feet and wringing hands had lessened and fewer looked as tense and wary as frightened cats, so signs were good. Hopeful, she dared to ask, “Everyone okay?”
Kristina Sharapova, the Windermere’s Russian exchange student, raised her hand. Her typically serious expression looked tighter and her eyes clouded. “I’m not okay, Dr. Perkins.”
Dana wished Vinn were here. He’d calm Kristina; she trusted him. Quentin and Katherine Windermere weren’t prone to anxiety. If they were, the childless couple would never have hosted so many exchange students. At least one per year. Sometimes, two. And with the exception of the one who had worked part-time at Sparkle, Sylvia’s housecleaning service, for a few months…
What was that child’s name? Josie. Josie Rodriguez. Beautiful girl. A junior, and very bright. What had happened to her? Dana made a mental note to check into that. Exchange students worked so hard to get to the States to study, much less into Shutter Lake. To throw away the opportunity due to a family emergency seemed senseless. Dana had expected Josie back in a few days and instead Katherine Windermere had notified the office Josie wouldn’t be returning. The girl was gone. That much Dana knew for sure. She hadn’t caught wind of her being seen in Shutter Lake since her departure.
“Dr. Perkins?” Kristina prodded.
Dana focused on the girl now standing in place near the top of the bleachers. “Why are you not okay, Kristina?” Softening her tone, Dana smiled. “What exactly is wrong?”
“There’s a killer loose and I’m scared,” she said. “We all are.”
A chorus of voices rose in agreement. Some were those of staff members. Dana frowned at them, then addressed the kids. “Fear is a normal response. You act as if it is a bad thing, but fear can be a good thing, too.”
“How?” Kristina asked.
“Well, it can make you more aware. Fear can warn you of things so you can protect yourself.”
“Like what?” A third-grader asked.
“Let’s say you’re standing before a hot stove. You feel the heat. That heat warns you that the stove is hot, right? Of course, it does. You don’t have to touch the stove to know it’s hot. You’re afraid to touch it because it is hot, and because you are, you don’t touch the stove and get burned.” She cited a few other examples of how fear can be a good thing, targeting the different age groups so all the students had a relatable example to apply in their own lives. “So you see, fear isn’t a bad thing. Like most things, fear can be constructive or destructive. It’s how you look at it, and how you handle it. That’s what’s important.”
More and more faces relaxed and tensions eased. Dana let them ask their questions, and answered them honestly, giving them constructive coping skills. And though it galled her to do it, she reminded them, “Vinn has confessed and he is secured.”
Relaying those facts was hard for her because with every atom in her body, she believed he was innocent.
“Why would he do that?” Kristina asked Dana. “Why would he confess to a crime he didn’t commit?”
A freshman new to Shutter Lake seated near Wade Travis, the history teacher, stood up. “Did Vinn do it? Everybody knows he didn’t trust Sylvia.”
Kristina pounced, responding before Dana could. “Of course, he didn’t do it. You know, Vinn. We all know he couldn’t do something like that.”
Kristina sounded more than certain. She sounded positive. How could she have no doubt? And what in the world had Wade Travis suddenly turning the sickly color of ash?
“He said he did.” The red-faced boy sat back down. “Vinn don’t usually lie.”
“I know what he said. That doesn’t make it so.” Kristina turned to Dana. “Does it, Dr. Perkins?”
“No, it doesn’t,” she admitted. “And that proves how important it is that we all just tell the truth.”
Kristina stood up yet again. “Can we go now?”
“Provided everyone is okay, yes.” Grateful for the reprieve, Dana took another look then motioned to the history teacher. “Mr. Travis?” Since Sylvia’s murder, he’d been walking around looking a little lost and a lot frightened. Dana had asked him why several times, but he’d brushed off her concerns, insisting he was fine. Whatever was going on with him, it was time to find out. No one that uptight could be a calming influence on the students.
They began exiting the gym to return to class and Wade Travis joined Dana. A little pudgy, he parked a hand on his stomach. “I had my doubts about these touchy-feely assemblies, but they seem to be working.”
“Listening to the students is always a powerful help.” Dana and he stepped aside. “How has Kristina been doing in class?”
Mr. Travis tapped his glasses at the bridge of his broad nose, then dragged a thoughtful hand over his balding pate. “Jittery. Scared. She’s been even more upset since Vinn confessed.” Mr. Travis frowned. “I don’t know if it is her inbred fear of authorities or what actually happened with Sylvia and now Vinn being in the middle of it, but something has her pretty spooked.”
And him also, Dana thought, gauging by the breaks in his voice and his stilted tones.
“Vinn is her closest friend, so I guess the nerves are about him, and to be expected.”
“Are the other students treating her well?”
“For the most part,” Travis said. “A few are distant because of the whole killer thing. Everyone knows she and Vinn are best friends, so I guess that’s pretty normal, too—the distancing themselves, I mean. But most of them have known Vinn forever, and they don’t believe he could kill…her.”
Mr. Travis refused to say Sylvia’s name. How odd.
The majority of the kids had left the gym. Keeping her voice down so it wouldn’t carry, Dana faced Mr. Travis squarely. “What is wrong with you?”
“What?” His face flushed, at odds with his words. “Nothing’s wrong with me. I—I mean, nothing that isn’t wrong with everyone around here.”
“Mr. Travis… Wade,” Dana lowered her voice another notch. “I simply don’t have the time or energy to be anything but blunt and direct. You’ve been acting strange since Sylvia’s murder. Now, stop with the avoidance tactics and just be honest with me. What is wrong?” Maybe they had been close, or he had some unknown connection to the family. Whatever it was, he needed to get a grip on it. How could he help calm the kids when his every nerve was stretched as tight as strung wire?
His jaw tightened then fell slack, and he hesitated a long moment, suddenly looking far older and more weary than his thirty-two years. Worry aged a man more than anything else could.
Eventually the staring match ended, and he responded. “What’s wrong? Well, my star student is in jail for murder, the rest of my students have the focus span of gnats, and my nerves aren’t in much better shape than theirs. Other than that, everything is great.”
Sylvia had cleaned his house, too, and he seemed profoundly affected by her loss. “I see.” Dana nodded, confirmed that she really did see far more than he intended to show her. He was struggling and needed help. “No doubt you and Sylvia chatted. We did, too,” Dana added. “Did she mention she was planning a trip to Venezuela?”
He stiffened and stopped himself from backing away from Dana. “Did she tell you that? Who told you that?”
Definitely an over-reaction to a non-personal question. The straggling students stopped and stared. Dana smiled to let them know all was well and then shooed them. “Get on to class or you’ll be late.”
The cluster of three girls and two boys hustled to the gym door. When it closed behind them, Dana looked back at Wade Travis. As a member of her staff, he too fell under her protection. Whether or not he wanted it, he apparently had been profoundly impacted by Sylvia’s death and needed it. “At the end of the day, come to my office.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Perkins. Really. I—“
“Right after classes, Mr.
Travis.” Dana walked out of the gym.
Chapter Seven
Wade entered the faculty restroom, grateful he had a break before his next class. His insides shook so hard, he was surprised half his guts and all his breakfast weren’t already on the floor.
Right after classes, Mr. Travis.
She knew.
He looked into the mirror above the sink, disgusted by his own reflection. What was he going to do? He could lie, but Perkins would know. She had too many years in the classroom and around kids to not have a honed BS detector.
How did she find out? He’d been so careful. Meticulously careful…
Sylvia. She was the only other person on the planet that knew his secret. The only one. The day she had confronted him roared through his mind. Sylvia had waited for the kids to leave his classroom and clear the hall. Then she’d walked in and slammed his door shut. “I did your house today, Wade.”
“You do my house every Thursday.” To avoid her glare, he picked up an eraser and began making circles on the board, getting rid of a few notes.
“Porn?” She was furious. “Stop that and look at me.”
He had to struggle to make his body move, awash in a hot flood of shame. He set down the eraser, took a steadying breath, steeling himself, and then turned to face her.
“I found your stash.” Sylvia parked a hand on her hip. “And I’ll tell you right now, if there had been little kids in that mountain of trash and not grown women—though that’s bad, no doubt about it—we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d be with Griff McCabe in cuffs and on your way to jail.”
“Sylvia, don’t. Please.” His stomach pitched and rolled and spots formed before his eyes. “Please.”
“Please?” Are you crazy? Porn? You’re a teacher, for God’s sake.”
Why didn’t she lower her voice? Someone was going to hear. He lifted a hand and pumped the air, silently asking her to pipe down. “It’s an addiction,” he told Sylvia. “I have never and will never touch a kid. That’s disgusting.”
