So why had that information been kept from the public?
Avery read on, heart racing, realizing that all the answers she sought were here, in her mother's words.
Phillip was quiet today. Something is terribly wrong but he won't speak of it.
And then later,
Phillip and Buddy argued. They aren't speaking and it pains me that such good friends are being torn apart by something like this.
Something like what? Avery wondered. Sallie Waguespack's murder? Had they been on opposite sides of the tide of public opinion?
Avery found no further mention of conflict between the two friends or about the murder or investigation until a passage that caused her heart to skip a beat.
Buddy has involved himself in something…a group. There's seven of them. Something secret. I heard him trying to convince Phillip to join.
Avery stopped, working to collect her thoughts. Buddy a member of the original Seven? Trying to convince her father to join? She read on.
Phillip went out tonight; he met with that group, The Seven. He seemed troubled when he returned. I'm concerned… Everything is different now. Everything has…changed.
Avery glanced at her watch, shocked to see that nearly two hours had passed already. There were so many journals yet to read. She needed another pair of eyes.
Hands shaking, she dug in her pocket for the paper she had scrawled Gwen's cell number on. She dialed the number, left a message and stood, a ripple of unease moving over her. Where was Gwen?
To hell with stealth, she decided, hurrying for the attic stairs, stopping when she reached them. Turning, she darted back to the boxes of journals. She bent, collected the ones from 1988 and 1990, then ran for the stairs.
Minutes later, journals stuffed into her handbag, she backed her SUV down the driveway. She reached The Guesthouse in no time at all, parked in front and hurried up the walk. As she made a move to grab the doorknob, the door opened.
Avery jumped backward, making a sound of surprise.
Her old friend Laurie stepped through.
"Avery," she said, looking startled. "This is so weird. I was just thinking about you. I've meant to call or stop by, but it's been nuts around here what with Fall Festival and-"
"Don't worry about it. It's good to see you."
Laurie glanced at her watch. "I'd love to chat, but I'm late."
"Actually, I stopped by to see Gwen Lancaster. Is she in?"
Laurie drew her eyebrows together. "Gwen Lancaster? The woman in 2C?"
"Yes. Is she here?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen her today."
"When's the last time you did see her? It's important."
The other woman frowned. "I don't know…I don't keep tabs on our guests."
Realizing how she sounded, Avery forced a laugh. "Of course you don't. If she's not there, could I leave her a note?"
"Sure, Avery. No law against that." She hitched her purse strap higher on her shoulder, started off, then stopped and looked back at Avery, eyes narrowed. "Gwen Lancaster's not from around here. How do you know her?"
Avery lifted a shoulder in feigned nonchalance. "We met down at the Azalea Cafe. Hit it off."
"Oh." Laurie frowned slightly. "Her brother's the one who disappeared. Tom. He stayed with us, too."
"I'd heard that."
"A girl can't be too careful, Avery."
Chill bumps raced up her arms. Had that been a warning? A threat?
Or nothing at all but small-town gossip?
"It seems that in this case," Avery murmured, "a guy can't be too careful, either."
The woman hesitated, then laughed, the sound lacking warmth. "I've got to go," she said. "See you around."
Avery watched her walk away, then turned and headed inside. The front desk was empty; she trotted up the stairs, to the end of the hall.
She half expected to find Gwen's door as she had last time- propped open, chaos inside.
It was closed tight. She knocked, waited a moment, then knocked again. "Gwen," she called softly. "It's Avery."
Still no answer. From downstairs came the sound of the front door opening and closing. She glanced over her shoulder, saw she was alone, then tried the door. And found it locked.
Reassured, she took the notepad and pen out of her purse, scrawled a brief note asking Gwen to call her on her cell, ASAP, telling her she had found something important. She wrote the number, bent and slid the note under the door.
She turned and found Laurie standing a dozen feet behind her. Avery laughed nervously. "You surprised me, Laurie. I thought you'd left."
"This is a nice place to live, Avery," the woman said. "You don't know, you've been away."
"Pardon me?"
"Folks around here like things the way they are. I thought you should know that."
Avery stared at her old friend, heart thundering. "You're referring to The Seven, aren't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do. The Seven. The ones who keep Cypress Springs a nice place to live. By whatever means necessary."
"Gwen Lancaster is a troublemaker. An outsider." Laurie took a step back. "We take care of our own. You should know that. You used to be one of us, too."
CHAPTER 47
Hunter!" Avery called, rapping on his door. "It's me. Avery."
When he didn't answer after a moment, she called out again, urgency pressing at her. Time was running out. She had found the clues to the past and Sallie Waguespack's murder. She had proof The Seven existed. She had figured out how her father had been killed. She knew from experience that once the pieces of a story began falling into place, anything could happen. And it usually happened fast.
She needed to uncover the killer's identity. Why he had done it.
Before it was too late. Before he killed again.
If he hadn't already,
Sarah whined and pawed at the door. Avery peered through the window at the obviously empty kitchen. Where was Hunter? It had been several hours since they'd spoken; he'd said he would get back to her. Why hadn't he?
She checked her watch, frowning. He could have gone for a run.
To the grocery or out for lunch. He could be over at the Gazette, researching how Dr. Badeaux had died.
Sure, she reassured herself. That was it. He was fine. He-
He'd sounded strange when they spoke. Sarah had been going nuts in the background. Barking. Growling.
Are you alone?
Not completely.
Panicked, she tried the door. She found it unlocked and stumbled inside. "Hunter," she called. "Hunter!"
She moved her gaze over the kitchen. Nothing appeared out of order and she hurried to the living room. Hunter's computer was on, a document on the screen. She swung to the right. The puppies slept in the pen Hunter had constructed for them, a heap of soft, golden fur.
Nothing out of place.
Turning, she crossed to Hunter's bedroom. And found it much as she had the rest of the apartment. Feeling more than a little neurotic, she checked under the bed and in the closet.
Nothing. Thank God.
She laughed to herself and turned. Her gazed landed on Sarah. The dog sat at the closed bathroom door, nose pressed to the crack. She whined, pawed at the door.
The breath hissed past Avery's lips; her knees went weak.
Screwing up her courage, she inched toward the closed door. She reached the dog. Hand visibly trembling, Avery reached for the knob, grasped it and twisted.
The door eased open. Sarah charged through. Avery stumbled in after. Something brushed against her ankles and a scream flew to her throat.
A puppy, Avery realized. One of Sarah's pups had gotten locked in the bathroom.
Avery crossed to the commode, sank onto it. She dropped her head into her hands. She was losing it. Going around the bend at the speed of light.
As if sensing her distress, Sarah laid her head in Avery's lap. Avery stroked the dog's silky head and ears, then
patted her side. "I bet I look pretty silly to you."
The dog thumped her tail against the tile floor.
"Where'd he go, girl?"
Sarah lifted her head, expression baleful. Avery pressed her forehead to the dog's. "Right. He didn't take me either. How about we wait together?"
Sarah wagged her tail, collected her wayward pup by the scruff of its neck and carried it back to its brothers and sisters.
Avery followed, thoughts racing. Hunter had left his computer on, document up. She crossed to his desk, sat and closed the document. She saw that he had last saved at 7:37 that morning. Right about the time she had called. Just before. That meant that he hadn't written since they'd spoken. She glanced at her watch. Five hours ago.
She frowned. Computer on. Document up. Door unlocked. Where could he have gone?
A scrap of paper peeking out from the keyboard caught her eye. She inched it out.
Gwen 's name. Her room number at The Guesthouse.
Avery gazed at the notation. At Hunter's bold print. A tingling sensation started at her fingertips and spread. Why had he written this? Why would he have needed to know her room number?
Hunter had left before the storm hit. Because of Sarah, he'd said. How did she know he'd even gone home? Maybe he had left her and gone to Gwen's?
She had told him about Gwen. Everything. How they had met. About her brother. The gutted cat. That she had interviewed Trudy Pruitt.
He had stopped on that, she recalled. He had looked strange, she remembered. Shaken.
Hunter's voice on the answering machine.
Avery brought a hand to her mouth, thoughts tumbling one over another. Hunter had returned to Cypress Springs about ten months ago.
About the time the rash of unexpected deaths had started.
No. She shook her head. Not Hunter.
Cherry's words rang in her head. He's come home to hurt us. To punish us.
Someone her father had trusted, someone he would open the door to in the middle of the night.
"Your father and I had become friends. Every time we were together, he talked about you."
Run, Avery. Go as fast as you can.
With a sense of inevitability, Avery reopened the computer document and read:
His thoughts settled on vengeance. On the act he had just carried out. Some thought revenge an ugly, futile endeavor. He fed on it. On thoughts of the pain he could inflict. Punishment deserved-
Avery leaped to her feet. The chair went sailing backward. Not Hunter! It couldn 't be true.
She took a deep breath, fighting for calm. A clear head. Her gaze settled on the desk once again, its drawers. She tried them. And found them locked.
She had found the paper with Gwen's name on it, maybe she would find something else.
She hoped to God she didn't.
Turning, she headed for the bedroom. She went to the closet, rifled through it, then turned to the dresser. There, underneath some sweaters, she found a plastic storage bag. With trembling fingers she eased it from under the garments and held it up.
Tom Lancaster's Tulane University ID card. A cheap gold crucifix. A man's class ring.
A cry of disbelief slipped past her lips. She dropped the bag, turned and ran blindly for the door. What to do? Where to go? Buddy? Matt?
Gwen. Dear God, let her be all right.
Even as the prayer ran through her head, fear clawed at her. The sense of impending disaster. That it was too late. That the clock had just stopped.
She had been sleeping with the enemy.
She made it to her car. Fighting hysteria, she unlocked it and climbed inside. It took her three tries, but she finally got the keys into the ignition and the vehicle started.
She glanced out her window. Several people on the sidewalk had stopped and were staring at her.
She jerked away from the curb-a kid on a bike appeared before her and she slammed on the brakes. The momentum of the vehicle jerked her against the safety harness, knocking the wind out of her.
The kid whizzed by. She collected herself and merged into traffic, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her fingers went numb. The sound of a siren penetrated her panic. She glanced in the rearview mirror. A sheriff's cruiser, cherry lights flashing.
Matt! She pulled over. Tumbled out of the vehicle and ran to him. He met her halfway. Caught her in his arms.
"Avery, thank God you're safe." He held her tightly to his chest. "When I heard, I was so afraid-"
She clung to him. "How did you know about Hunter? When did you find out?"
"Hunter?" He frowned, searching her gaze, his concerned. "What are you talking about?"
"But I thought…the way you pulled me over…"
Her words trailed off. She went cold with dread. "What's wrong, Matt? What's happened?"
"Your parents' house is on fire. I just got the call."
CHAPTER 48
Avery left her car and rode with Matt. She smelled the fire a block before she saw the flames. Saw the smoke billowing up into the pristine blue spring sky. The two trucks came into view next, the pumper and water truck, lights flashing. Half a dozen guys had turned out, the firefighters in their chartreuse coats and helmets, hoses spewing water at the dancing flames.
Then she caught sight of the house. The fire had completely en-gulfed the structure. A cry ripped past her lips. Until that moment, she had hoped-prayed-Matt was wrong. That it was a mistake.
Matt stopped the car and she stumbled out. The heat slammed into her, the acrid smell of smoke. Her eyes and throat burned. She brought a hand to her mouth, holding back a cry.
Neighbors clustered around the perimeter of the scene, huddling together, their expressions ranging from fear and disbelief to horrified fascination. They glanced at her, then looked away. As if ashamed. As if in meeting her eyes, her tragedy became theirs.
And because they were so very grateful this had happened to her not them.
If they looked away, maybe they could pretend it hadn 't happened.
She hugged herself, chilled despite the heat. Lucky them. She wished she could pretend. That her childhood home wasn't in flames. Gone, she thought. All her parents' things. Mementos. The photographs she had looked at that very morning. Gone. Forever.
She had nothing left to remember them by.
"Wait here," Matt said. "I'm going to see if I can help." He hesitated, searching her expression, his concerned. "Are you going to be all right?"
A hysterical-sounding laugh raced to her lips. Oh sure, she thought. Just dandy.
"Fine," she managed to say. "Go."
He squeezed her hand, then disappeared. She watched him, and turned at the sound of her name. Buddy had arrived and was hurrying toward her.
She ran to him. He enfolded her in his arms, holding her tightly. "When the call came in, I was so frightened. No one knew if you were in the house. Thank God you're all right. Thank God."
She clung to him. "What am I going to do, Buddy? I've lost everything."
"Not us, baby girl," he said fiercely. "You haven't lost us."
"Where will I go? Where is home now?"
"You will stay with us as long as you like. We're your family now, Avery. That hasn't changed. It will never change."
"Ms. Chauvin?"
She glanced over her shoulder at John Price, the firefighter she'd met at her father's wake. He took off his helmet. His dark hair was plastered to his head with sweat, his face black with soot. "I'm sorry we couldn't save it, Ms. Chauvin. I'm really…sorry."
She nodded, unable to speak. She shifted her gaze. Ben Mitchell, the arson investigator, had arrived; he was conferring with Matt. They disappeared around the side of the house.
"Do you know how this happened?" she asked.
The fireman shook his head. "Arson takes over from here."
"I don't understand how…I was home this morning. I used my laptop, made some coffee, everything was fine."
The man shifted his helmet from one hand to the other, ex
pression uneasy. "You have to know how odd this is, considering your father's death."
Her dad had burned. Now his house. A small sound passed her lips. Until that moment she hadn't made that connection.
One of his colleagues called him. "I've got to go. Ben's good, he'll figure it out."
Buddy put an arm around her shoulder. "Here comes Matt and Mitchell."
Avery turned. Waited. When they reached her, Matt and his dad exchanged glances, their expressions grim.
"Looks like arson, Avery," Matt said. "Whoever did it left the fuel can."
"Arson," she repeated. "But why…who-"
"Can you account for your whereabouts for the last few hours?" Ben Mitchell asked.
"Yes, I-"
The journals. Going to The Guesthouse, looking for Gwen. Leaving the note.
Hunter. Gwen's name and room number scrawled on paper by his computer.
"Avery?" Matt laid his hands on her shoulders. "Earlier, you said something about Hunter. You asked me how I had found out. What were you talking about?"
She stared at her friend, mouth working. She fought to think clearly. To focus. Not to panic.
Her mother's journals. Evidence of The Seven. Of something wrong with the Waguespack murder investigation.
All destroyed in the fire. All but…
But she hadn't told anyone about the journals.
"Avery?" Matt shook her lightly. "Avery, what-"
"You have to help me, Matt." She caught his hands. "You have to come with me now."
"Avery," Buddy said softly, "you're in shock. You need to rest. Come home with me and-"
"No!" She shook her head. "A friend. Gwen Lancaster, she's in trouble." Her voice rose. "You have to help me!"
"Okay," Buddy said softly, tone soothing. "I'll help you. We'll go find this friend of yours. Everything will be fine."
"I'll go, Dad." Matt looked from Avery to her father. "You've got your hands full here."
Buddy looked as if he wanted to argue, then nodded. "Okay, but keep me posted. And bring her back to the ranch. Lilah and Cherry will get her fixed up for the night."
Matt agreed and they walked to his cruiser. He helped her into the vehicle, went around and climbed behind the wheel. He looked at her. "Where are we going?"
In Silence Page 28
