And so Boo and I, in our black suits, supervised from several feet away as Erin’s coffin, draped with white lilies and roses, was carried from the hearse on the shoulders several pallbearers, one of whom was Matt.
Standing at erect attention by their parked cruisers on the cemetery access road, Perfect Bob and Detectives Zabriskie and Henderson also observed. Waiting, I supposed, for the moment when the coffin was lowered into the ground, the final good-byes were said, and handfuls of dirt thrown.
Only then could they arrest Matt for the murder of his former girlfriend.
Boo gave me a nudge. “Have faith,” she whispered.
“They’re here because they want to make sure he doesn’t flee,” I said. At the bottom of the hill sat two other cruisers, their blue lights flashing.
“It’ll all work out,” Boo said. “Trust your auntie.”
The pallbearers placed the coffin on its brass winch, and then Matt took his place next to Mrs. Donohue, who hooked her arm in his as the priest asked God to wipe from Erin her every last sin and reminded us that, once dust, it is to dust we must return.
My mother activated the winch and the coffin lowered slowly while Erin’s mother wept uncontrollably. Matt bent down and took a handful of dirt that he gave to Mrs. Donohue, who murmured a prayer and let it fall. Everyone did the same until only Matt was left. He bowed his head and said, “Peace,” as he tossed the final clump.
The priest closed his prayer book and everyone bowed their heads.
“Into your hands, oh Lord, we commit the body and soul of Erin Anne Donohue.” He made the sign of the cross. “Peace be upon you who love Erin Anne and know that the Lord Christ himself promised that those who believe in him and with him will receive eternal life.”
There were murmurs of “Amen” and then that was it. They lingered and hugged. Matt stood to the side as the Donohue family snaked their way to the limousines.
Bob went over to my mother while Detectives Zabriskie and Henderson crossed the cemetery. Matt glanced at me and winked, but made no attempt to run.
“I have to see what’s happening,” I said.
“Don’t,” Boo said. “Let him go.”
It was too late. I ran as best as I could, despite my heels, which kept sinking into the grass. I could hear Mom say something like, “It’s okay, Lily,” but I didn’t care. I needed to be there for him.
Detective Zabriskie turned to me, alarmed. “Is something wrong?”
I couldn’t speak. It was the oddest of questions. “I guess that’s what I should be asking you.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned. It was a beautiful funeral.” He gave my shoulder a paternalistic pat. “Sad, of course, but tasteful.”
There were no handcuffs. No rights being read. And Zabriskie was acting like my long-lost uncle. “Aren’t you going to arrest us?” I asked.
Matt laughed. “Thanks, Lil. What are you trying to do, get me locked away?”
I was so confused.
“Oh,” Zabriskie said, straightening. “I was sure you would have told her, but . . . Well, last night at the hospital when we were wrapping up our questioning of Miss Woo, Detective Henderson and I were approached by two friends of yours, Kate Kline and Cheyenne Day, who wanted to amend their statements about what happened at Erin’s house on Saturday night.”
Matt raised his eyebrows. “Smart move, making the call to Kate.”
“Apparently, both girls had been afraid that if they came forward and delivered testimony on one Alex Bone that said Mr. Bone would harm them.” Zabriskie thumbed over his shoulder to Matt. “As luck would have it, however, your knight in shining armor here notified dispatch reporting that he had just, uh, taken out Mr. Bone in front of the Graves Funeral Home and that he was worried Mr. Bone might follow through on various threats to do you harm as well, Lily.”
I blushed.
Zabriskie continued. “Mr. Houser also managed to remember the license plate of the motorcycle, and we were able to apprehend Mr. Bone shortly thereafter and detain him on charges that he had violated his probation by driving under the influence and committing assault and criminal threatening. We are waiting to see if his DNA matches that which we found under Erin’s nails. In the meantime, he’s not going anywhere.”
Trying to get back into my good graces, Bob said, “See, Lily, the swab was worth it.”
“Do you think he actually killed Erin, though?” Mom asked.
Zabriskie let Henderson answer that one. “What we know, according to the statements of the two girls who came forward last night, is that what appeared to have started out as Erin’s infatuation with the older, more experienced so-called bad boy Alex Bone rapidly devolved into an unhealthy relationship. Mr. Bone imagined himself as Erin’s liberator, introducing her to drugs, sex, and whatnot, while Erin became increasingly scared of his attempt to control her.”
Matt said, “That explained her hot-and-cold attitude toward me. Wanted me to stay. Wanted me to go. I wished she’d just told the truth.”
“So what’s happens next?” I asked.
“Next, we take Matt down to the station so he can write up a statement on his altercation with Mr. Bone and positively ID him,” Henderson said. “Then we hope to do a lineup with the Krezkys to see if he was the man they saw arguing with Erin on Saturday night.”
Not likely. Sara said the Krezkys told her that guy was the spitting image of Matt.
“The fingerprints on the cup you gave us did match ones we found on a bottle of formalin in Erin’s house,” Bob said. “Excellent work.”
Mom beamed. So did Bob.
“Alex was soaking cigarettes in formalin and selling them,” I said.
Henderson nodded. “We executed a search warrant earlier this morning. Possession of neither formaldehyde nor tobacco is illegal, though.” He sucked his teeth. “There’s a legal loophole that needs to be closed.”
That was it, then. The nightmare was over. Alex Bone had killed Erin, as I’d suspected, and Matt wasn’t going to jail, and neither was I. Ten minutes ago, I’d been certain he was about to be arrested and now, not only was he free, but Zabriskie had called him a knight in shining armor.
“Can you give me minute?” Matt asked, as Henderson and Zabriskie made to go back to their cruiser.
“One,” Zabriskie said, smiling. “We’re on a tight schedule.”
Matt took me aside. Placing his hands on my shoulders and touching his forehead to mine, he said, “Okay, I’m leaving with these dudes to do the paperwork, but when I’m done I’m coming back and you and I are going to start all over.”
I smiled. “What do you mean, all over?”
“No lies. No bullshit story about needing to pass an exam. No crazy girlfriend. Just the two of us. Alone. Finally.” He put his lips to my ear. “We’ve got a lot of making . . . um, up to do.”
A tingling danced across my heart. “Meet me in my garden at five?”
“Five it is. I can’t wait.”
Of course, I still had questions. For example, the Persephone necklace. How did that end up snagged on a tree in Erin’s backyard the day after the murder? Then there was the issue of the man Erin was seen arguing with.
Alex Bone was thin and lanky, with long black hair. I supposed the ponytail might have accounted for it appearing short, but he bore absolutely no resemblance to Matt, whose broad shoulders and height alone distinguished him from Bone.
But since the police had cleared Matt, I was positive there had to be a reasonable explanation. It would emerge eventually, I was sure.
After cleaning up Erin’s gravesite, I went home, took a long, hot shower, donned my short black dress, which I paired with fishnets, slipped my feet into a new pair of suede boots, and climbed through my window to the garden.
The stars were out, barely visible above the dark, bare branches in the twilight, and they imbued the garden with a magical feel. Matt was leaning against the wall, waiting.
“Hey,” he said, coming toward me.
“Hey yourself.”
We stood inches apart. I let myself take in everything: the Panthers jacket, the whiteness of the clean button-down shirt underneath, how he smelled of shampoo and Irish Spring soap with a hint of jock.
He reached out and stroked my cheek. “We can go somewhere. Or . . .”
I didn’t want to wait. I’d done enough of that. “Or what?”
“Or . . .” His hand slid behind my head, running my hair through his fingers as he bent down. Our lips touched briefly, and then again as I pulled him to me and his arms wrapped around my back.
He lifted his mouth from mine and kissed my ear, then my neck, sending electric shocks down my middle to my thighs, my toes, and everywhere in between. He pushed me against the garden wall and sucked my lower lip, and then kissed me deeper. I felt his hand on my waist, exploring.
“Hold on,” I said, pushing him away. “I live in a house with three other woman, including my very perceptive grandmother on the top floor.”
“Yeah?” he said, tracing the sinews of my neck with his lips.
“So, we should go somewhere else.”
He planted a kiss on my collarbone. “Where?”
Anyplace but my house. “We could go to the tomb. No one will find us there.”
Matt stopped kissing me and grinned. “You don’t want anyone to find us, huh? You sure that’s safe?”
“I don’t care about safe.” And I boosted myself over the wall.
Matt and I made it all the way to the cemetery and, having hidden the truck on a side alley in case Perfect Bob was on patrol and still trying to suck up to my mother by turning me in, we were about to sneak through the hole in the fence when my phone blared.
“It’s Sara,” I said, feeling a tug at my heart.
Matt groaned. “Don’t answer it.”
“I have to. She’s leaving tomorrow straight after church and I won’t talk to her for probably a year.” I pressed Answer. “Hey!”
“Where are you?” Sara’s voice was thick, like she’d been crying, and I knew, right then, that my plans with Matt were ruined.
“At the cemetery. Did you get my email?” I’d sent her the rundown about Alex Bone and Kate and Cheyenne’s last-minute crisis of conscience.
“Yeah, that’s awesome. I’m so glad it’s over and that Matt’s not going to jail.”
Matt put his head against the fence, frustrated.
“Are you stopping by to see me before I go?” Sara asked pitifully. “Tonight is our last chance. Mom’s out buying stuff for the trip and Dad’s picking up Brandon for a birthday party.”
So it was as I’d suspected. It wasn’t just Potsdam the McMartins decided had corrupted Sara. It was me.
I glanced at Matt. “Do you mind if we quickly run over to Sara’s so I can say good-bye?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really.” I got back on. “Matt and I will be right over.”
“Matt? Why not just you?”
“Because that’s how it is, okay?”
There was a pause. “Okay.”
I hung up and said, “Thanks.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He took my hand and kissed it. “I’m in no hurry. We’ll have plenty of time together after Sara leaves, right?”
For days and weeks to come, I would replay that line over and over.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
TWENTY
What I remembered were the lights, bright and aimed directly at us.
We were on the long road out to Sara’s development, which was so deserted, the city saw no need for streetlamps. I vaguely recalled flipping through my iPhone, looking for a certain song, and asking Matt a question, though I’ve since forgotten what.
I heard him swear. He jerked the truck to the right with such force that I was flung against the door, my seat belt cutting into my neck. The lights were incredibly bright. High beams? Everything happened in slow motion and my mind reeled with confusion. Stupidly, I wondered if he was swerving to avoid an animal or if, somehow, he’d drifted into the opposite lane.
It’s odd, the random snippets that run through your mind when you are seconds away from death.
The truck more than bounced. It flew. Matt leaned on the horn as we seemed to surreally sail past the oncoming car, crossing the center line, into the ditch. Without his quick thinking, it would have T-boned us and I would have been a goner.
We rolled into a hedge and stopped, both of us shaking. The muscles in my arms and legs were taut with tension. I couldn’t catch my breath.
Matt gripped the wheel and panted. “Are you okay? Oh, Jesus, Lil.” He unclipped his seat belt and flipped on the overhead light, searching my face with such fear that I was frightened that maybe I’d been injured after all.
“I think so,” I said, tentatively touching my cheek. “How about you?”
“Guess I’m fine, but . . .” He sat back, still breathing hard. “What happened?”
I checked the side mirror. The oncoming vehicle seemed to have landed off road, its red parking lights on. “Not quite sure, but whoever almost hit us is over there.”
“God, I hope they’re not hurt.” Matt reached under the seat and retrieved an industrial-looking flashlight. Then we got out and headed across the street.
The car had gone some distance in a field that, judging from the scent of fresh grass, had been recently hayed. My new suede boots were ruined as I trudged across the damp earth, keeping a focus on the yellow circle cast by Matt’s flashlight.
It illuminated the back end and the distinctive ridges of a Mercedes.
My heart clenched. I picked up my pace as we got closer, praying that it wouldn’t be baby-blue, that it wouldn’t be Sara’s. But all hope was lost when the familiar numbers of her license plate were reflected in Matt’s light. TBX 25C.
I let out a little yelp and ran to the driver’s side window, which was down. A woman was slumped over in the front seat, blond hair tangled in a rat’s nest.
The odor of alcohol was overpowering. “Oh my God!” I said with a gasp. “No!”
“You know her?” Matt asked.
It didn’t seem possible. “It’s Sara’s mom, Carol.”
Matt leaned in the window. “She’s drunk.”
“Do you see any blood?”
He flashed the light around. “Nope.” He shook her shoulder. “Ma’am? Are you all right?”
Carol stirred and mumbled for us to go away.
Matt said, “That’s not a good idea. How about we drive you home?”
I pulled out my phone and dialed Sara, who answered on the first ring. “Where are you? Mom’s almost home.”
“Your mother nearly ran us over on County Road,” I said, pausing. “I think she’s been drinking.”
Strangely, Sara didn’t sound so surprised. “Is anyone hurt?”
Matt had managed to get Carol to a sitting position, though she was batting him away and telling him to let her be.
“I think we’re okay, including your mother. Should I call an ambulance?”
“Geesh, no. Mom’s on prescription meds, that’s the problem. If the police find her . . . Look, can you just pile her into Matt’s truck and I’ll go back and get the car later? As it is, I’m without wheels.”
The Mercedes was up to its front end in mud and what appeared to be leftover summer hay. This would be no easy fix. “We’ll do our best.”
“I’m sorry, Lil. I’ll tell you when you get here what’s been going on.”
Adult issues, Mom had said. I felt kind of crummy for being so caught up in my own crisis that I hadn’t paid attention to hers. “Hang tight. We’ll be right there.”
I hung up, and Matt handed me the flashlight. “I’ll get the truck. You stay with her.” He jogged off, leaving me to handle the mess that was Sara’s mother.
Feeling super awkward, I knelt next to
the open door, wishing this hadn’t happened and also reminding myself how lucky it was that everyone was alive.
“It’ll be all right, Mrs. McMartin,” I said. “We’re going to get you home.”
Sara’s mother swiveled toward me, her face bloated and red. “Is that you, Lily?”
I forced a smile.
Her chest started heaving and I panicked, thinking maybe she was having a heart attack or internal bleeding. “Are you okay?”
“It’s my fault. I never should have gotten you into this.” She was sobbing uncontrollably.
I patted her arm. “Do you think you can step out of the car? We’d like to get you home.”
She threw one leg out, then another, leaning on me harder than I expected. When Matt returned with the truck, we managed to push and pull her into the front seat. I was sweating by the time we got her secured between us.
“This is mind-blowing,” I said to Matt outside the truck while, inside, Mrs. McMartin slumped, jaw slack. “What do you think happened to her?”
“I think she’s a drunk, Lil. Not much more complicated than that.”
“But she doesn’t drink. Her religion forbids it.”
“Uh huh.” He scoffed. “Wasn’t she drunk at the wake?”
“Yep.” I chewed my lower lip, trying to figure out what was happening in the McMartin family that would land Sara in lockdown and send her mother running for the bottle.
Matt slid behind the wheel of the Mercedes and, after an appreciative assessment of its butter-leather interior, tried to start up the car. The wheels spun in the mud, splattering his truck. And me. “The damn rain and snow from earlier this week. The ground’s too soft. I’m going to have to come back and push this out.”
“I think we should get her home.” Cars were slowing, curious.
“Agreed.” He turned off the ignition, took the keys, and climbed behind the wheel.
Carol McMartin was passed out and snoring. Matt said, “Lovely.”
“Never a dull moment,” I said as we bounced out of the field onto County Road. “Not with Lily Graves.”
The Secrets of Lily Graves Page 18
