I looked around the room again. Most people seemed upset about Wes, some seemed a little freaked out, and some just looked tired. Rachel was still nowhere to be seen, and I wondered where she had taken Kelly. Was she still with her? And was she really the best person to be comforting Kelly at the moment?
I remembered Matt and Sam telling me how Rachel and Wes had had an affair. Could Kelly and Wes have fought about it tonight? Could Kelly have hit him and then panicked? That would actually make sense. But Kelly didn't look strong enough to have killed him. Maybe Rachel and Wes fought, and Rachel got angry and hit him. That seemed a much more realistic suggestion. Rachel was known for her temper. I made a note of my thoughts to ask Matt about when he got back.
My eyes flicked around the room, and I saw Georgie sitting with Dawn and Faith. I wondered about Faith's connection to what happened to Wes. He did go missing after he went to get the police. If Faith was somehow connected, maybe Jake had done something to protect her? Or maybe she hit Wes and Jake, and Jake was lying injured or killed somewhere too.
My stomach churned at that thought. I didn't really know why. Five years ago, Jake had hurt me a lot more than I thought he had, so why did I care what happened to him?
The photo Sam had found sat on the table in front of me, so I picked it up and had another look. It was taken from the sand dunes with my back to the water. I was laughing, my eyes bright and my smile large.
Who was the photographer? Was this a photo one of my friends had taken? If so, why was it placed inside this old book? I made a note of all of it and reminded myself to ask Sam exactly where in the book he'd found it. Maybe Matt was wrong about coincidences. Maybe they did happen.
Lost in thought, I missed Matt and Sam walking back into the room. I only noticed as Sam grabbed a new bottle of wine and unscrewed the lid.
"Well?" I asked, actually quite scared of their answer. "Did you find a butterfly?
"No. There was nothing on him I could find that would give us a clue as to who hit him," replied Matt, accepting the full glass from Sam. Sam then filled his own glass and downed it, only coming up for air once the glass was empty.
"Now what do we do?" I asked, quietly grateful that all butterflies were absent.
"We think," said Matt.
I handed the book to Matt. "I had some thoughts while you were gone. I'm not sure what they tell us though. I seem to have more questions than answers."
Matt silently read my notes as Sam poured another glass of wine, this time only sipping at the contents.
When Matt finished, he looked at me. "Do you think this is all connected to you?"
"No. I mean how could it be? I just thought it was odd, that's all."
Sam took the book from Matt and skimmed my notes. "You forgot to add that Faith was hit by someone who looked like you."
Shit. That was right. "That doesn't help my theory that it has nothing to do with me."
"Maybe whoever is doing this is doing it to frame you?" suggested Matt. "That would explain the break-in. They could have been stealing clothes to dress as you."
I didn't like the sound of that. My stomach flipped at his words. "W…why? Why?"
"Have you upset anyone lately?"
I shook my head. "No. I try my very best not to upset anybody."
We fell silent for a minute.
"Maybe it is Faith," I said. "She could have done all this to get back at me for having a relationship with Jake. She did say he still loved me."
"Do you think she's right?" asked Sam, his look piercing my soul.
"No, but it only matters that she thinks that. She could have locked herself in the dub room."
"But who hit her?"
"She could have done it to herself. I've heard of people doing that before. It happened to a friend of mine. His girlfriend was a bit psycho and threw herself down the stairs. She then told the police he pushed her. He only got off because he had twenty witnesses saying he was at the pub at the time."
"Why hit Wes?"
"Because he was going to get the police. Maybe she wanted to stop him." I was on a roll now. I had this thing solved. Somehow Matt and Sam didn't look as convinced about it as I was.
"I think I need to have a chat with Faith," said Matt, placing his glass on the table and standing. I immediately did the same and followed him across the room. Whatever she had to say, I wanted to hear.
"Hi, Faith," said Matt sweetly. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"What about?" she asked.
Matt pulled up the chair next to her and gave me a look that said, Bugger off. She'll talk better without you here. I sighed and moved to sit next to Georgie.
"Are you okay?" I asked, noticing her eye makeup now smudged under her lashes. Dawn was laid across two chairs, her head on Georgie's lap, dozing.
"I made her take one of her anxiety pills," she explained, smoothing Dawn's hair as she spoke. "She won't help Dad in the state she was getting herself into."
"Is anyone looking for him now?" I asked, sitting on a chair next to her.
I knew that I also wanted to ask her about what happened years ago when Jake spoke to her and why she didn't tell me, but now didn't feel like the right time.
She shook her head. "Rachel told us to all stay together here in the studio. Marty did look earlier but couldn't find him. I'm really worried, Alex. He's been gone for hours."
Georgie's big gray eyes filled with tears. I felt my heart squeeze. Georgie wasn't like me. She didn't cry easily. She looked down at her mum.
"If she wakes up, I don't know what to tell her."
"Don't worry, Georgie. I'll get Sam, and we'll go and look for him. Do you remember the last place anyone saw him?"
"It was when the boys asked him to check the old house. But Marty went out there and couldn't see him."
"Well, we'll check again, okay? It'll be all right, I promise."
I shouldn't have been making promises like that as I really had no idea what had happened to Stuart, but I needed to give Georgie some hope. She smiled back at me, unconvinced that I was right.
I stood and kissed her on the cheek, giving her an uncomfortable hug as Dawn was still asleep on her lap. I turned and crossed the room again, looking for Sam.
I found him talking to Sally. I waited for them to finish their conversation. "Hey, Sam," I said. "I was wondering if you'd help me with something."
"Sure."
"I want to go back to the old house and look for Stuart."
"But Marty has already done that," said Sally.
"Yes, I know, but it won't hurt to have another look. And even if we don't find him, we may find something that would suggest where he went after that. If he got there at all, that is."
"Why do you think he wouldn't have gotten there?"
"Well, I don't, I guess, but I think we should check just in case."
"It's better than standing here doing nothing," said Sam.
"But Rachel said we should all stay together, here in the studio," said Sally, panic making her voice shaky. Sally was a sweetheart. "You shouldn't be wandering off on your own. You might get hurt."
I took a closer look at her and could see the genuine panic in her eyes.
"It's okay, Sally," said Sam, touching her arm as he spoke. "She has me. I won't let anything happen to her." He turned to me. "I'll just get my camera."
As Sam walked away to get his camera, Sally grabbed my arm. "Alex, please don't go. Stay here with everybody. You're safe here."
"Honestly, I'll be okay," I said, smiling reassuringly.
"But…but look what happened to Wes."
Everyone thought Wes had died from an accident. I wanted to keep it that way. No use scaring everyone.
"I'll be okay. Sam's a good guy. He won't let anything happen to me."
"Ready?" he asked, walking up behind me.
"Ready." With that, I smiled at Sally again and walked with Sam toward the door.
* * *
I followed him back thro
ugh the dark to the old house. I blinked, rubbing sleep from my eyes as they adjusted to the light coming from Sam's camera. I honestly didn't know what we would have done without it. Before tonight, I'd hated cameras, but being on this side of it, I realized that they weren't quite so bad.
The rain had stopped completely, leaving puddles on the concrete driveway. My shoes had only just dried out from their earlier cross-country run trying to get help for Wes. If I was careful and dodged all potholes and puddles, they might just stay dry. Ruined but dry.
Sam stepped up onto the porch, and I noticed him shiver. He turned to look at me over his shoulder. "Ready?"
Not really, but what could I say? "Ready."
He turned the handle and pushed the door open. The hallway didn't look any more appealing than last time we were in here, but thankfully, the ceiling was still where it was meant to be.
My senses were on high alert as we made our way down the hallway and into the kitchen. The wind still whistled through the open window, and I shivered at the memory of Faith's scarf hitting me in the face.
"Okay back there?" called Sam, maybe sensing my unease.
"Yes, but can we do this quickly? I really don't want to be in here any longer than necessary."
The timber creaked beneath our feet as the wind picked up, causing haunting sounds to echo around the empty room.
"Sure," said Sam. "I could have done this on my own, you know."
"That's okay. I'd rather be either seen or heard on the camera, so if any other attacks happen, everyone will know it couldn't have been me."
"I could have left you with witnesses."
Shit, I didn't think of that. I sighed.
Sam chuckled.
Making our way into the old lounge room, Sam shone his light toward the bedroom we couldn't get into earlier. We both immediately moved to the locked door. There was a key in the lock this time, and as Sam turned the handle, it opened.
I sucked in my breath as I realized the key proved that Stuart had at least made it this far. Then I coughed up a lung as a cloud of dust, caused by me dragging my feet, got sucked right in.
"Did you hear that?" asked Sam.
No. All I'd heard was my lung attempting to be expelled through my mouth. He moved into the room. Following him was better than standing here in the dark.
The room was small, only about two meters square, with one window on the opposite wall to us. That window was covered with a floral curtain that was pulled closed. A now-redundant fireplace was on the wall to our right with a crooked picture hanging on the wall above it, but other than that, the room was empty. I wondered what was so important in here that this door had been locked.
"I wish we had more light," said Sam, slowly spinning around the room so that his light gave us a good view of the room's contents.
"Don't worry. It'll be daylight soon, and then you'll have all the light you need."
Sam chuckled, spinning around once more.
"You know what's interesting?" said Sam.
"The strange feeling someone is watching us?"
"The floor's clean," he replied, ignoring my imagination. He turned his light toward the ground.
Indeed, he was correct. "Humph. Why?"
"I don't know, but someone cleaned it for a reason."
"Why do you think that?"
"Every other floor in this house is filthy."
"So what was in here that was so important?"
"Or what is still in here that is so important?"
I looked toward Sam, baffled. "Sam, there's nothing in here."
"Yes, there is. There must be, or that door would have been left unlocked. Matt told me that when he spoke to Stuart about it earlier this evening, Stuart didn't even know about it. He didn't know of any reason for it to be locked as no one ever came out here anymore. They haven't for years. It's not exactly the safest place to hang out."
I thought about what Sam had said as he moved slowly around the room, filming every square inch of it. I couldn't see anything valuable enough to be locked in here. Other than a crooked picture, the room was clean.
As he stopped next to me, we heard an almighty crash.
I jumped, nearly knocking the camera out of his hand. Well, that would teach him not to stand so close to me. Even though I was enjoying it.
"What the…" I screamed as my heart rate spiked into the heart-attack zone.
"It's okay. I think it was just a tree branch falling onto the roof."
"Really?"
"Yes, but look, Stuart's definitely not here, so let's go back to the others. We can have a look at this footage and see if we notice any clues as to why this room was locked. I can't see any in here, but I often notice more when I watch it back."
Sam didn't need to say that twice. As soon as the words left his lips, I spun on my heel and hightailed it back to the front porch, not even looking at anything on the way. Stuart could have been standing in front of me, and I wouldn't have noticed. I was only focused on getting the hell out of there.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Reentering the building, we walked past the old dub room, and Sam suddenly stopped. I slammed into his back.
"Faith got locked in there once already tonight. Maybe we should check it out."
Maybe I needed to pay a little bit more attention to what he was actually doing and not just his backside. When I was a kid, my anxiety had been so awful, Mum had sent me to a lady who specialized in mind training. She told me that whenever stress or anxiety reared its ugly head, I should focus on something happy, something that made me feel good. It appeared that tonight, it was Sam's ass.
The old dub room was housed in an area adjacent to the toilets. Before the age of digital media, commercials that advertisers wanted to have played would arrive on a spot spool or a dub, as we called it. These dubs were about eight inches round and kept in a small box. A label listing everything we needed to know about the commercial it held was stuck to the side. This room was where all those dubs were kept, waiting to be needed.
I remembered the room well. It was large, held six rows of ceiling-high metal shelves all facing side-on to the door, creating aisles. Back in the day, these shelves were filled with small pizza-shaped boxes. Now they were filled with large cardboard boxes containing who knew what.
Sam stepped into the room, wanting to have a look around. I stepped in behind him, flipping the light switch as I went. The first thing I noticed was a stack of boxes scattered across the floor as if the pile had been knocked over.
Sam wandered around the aisles as I moved to the boxes and stacked them back into a standing position, ready to push them neatly back onto the shelf. I was just lifting the first box when Sam called me.
"Hey, Alex, come here."
Putting the box to the floor, I moved back past the door, toward Sam's voice. As I did, the door clicked closed behind me. I was about to quickly reopen it when Sam called again.
"Hurry up. Look at this."
Ignoring the door, I found Sam in the farthest aisle. He stood looking down and filming a pile of clothing. I walked up behind him and looked at what could be so interesting.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It's a sweater, but there's blood on it."
Instantly, my blood ran cold.
Sam pulled his arm into the sleeve of his jacket and used it to gently move the gray material for a better look. The soft fabric fell in folds to the floor, revealing the label to both of us.
My blood froze as I read the name written on the tag. It was mine. The one stolen from my apartment during my break-in, the one I took to the gym and had to write my name in because another girl had the exact same sweater.
"Are you okay?" asked Sam, looking at me with a concerned expression. "You're not going to throw up, are you?"
Probably not, but I definitely needed to sit down, as the world seemed to get darker. I pushed my back to the wall and sank my bottom to the floor. I pushed my head between my knees and took some deep, calming br
eaths. Sam crouched next to me, dropping his camera to the floor.
"Sorry. I know you said you didn't like blood, but I didn't realize you were that sensitive to it."
I shook my head and looked up at him. "No. It…it's the sweater. It…it's m…mine," I stammered, my lips trembling uncontrollably.
Sam's head whipped up as he looked back at the sweater. His eyes stopped on the label, and I saw shock reverberate through them. I knew what he was thinking. This proved someone was trying to frame me.
"It's the one I lost when my apartment was broken into."
The shakes had taken over my body as nausea crawled in my stomach.
"You need sugar. You have a chocolate bar in your bag, don't you?" said Sam, more as a statement than a question.
He stood up and moved around the aisle until he found where I'd dropped my bag. Bringing it back to me, he was about to hand it to me but had second thoughts. Instead, he opened it and found the Mars bar carefully pushed into one of the internal pockets so it wouldn't get squashed.
"Geez, you're organized," he said quietly.
I thought it was a compliment, but as he looked at me, I thought maybe not.
Ripping the wrapper open, he handed me the chocolate and demanded I eat. Only when the sugar kicked in and the shaking stopped did he help me to my feet.
"Come on. We need to get Matt and Rachel. They need to see this."
I allowed Sam to pull me along back to the door. I waited behind him as he turned the handle to let us back out. Only nothing happened. It was locked.
"What the hell?" he snapped.
"Humph. Maybe Faith did get locked in here."
"How can it be locked?" asked Sam. "There's no button. You need a key to lock it."
"It must be just jammed. Give it a shove with your shoulder. You're big, strong, and muscly."
The sugar hit had done a lot to calm me. I was still freaked-out by my sweater being here, covered in blood, but the panic attack had definitely stopped.
Invitation to Murder Page 14
