by Emily James
That meant whoever wrote the description for her probably knew exactly what kind of ketchup Claire would have at the birthday party—and they wouldn’t have known that she couldn’t get it.
Someone from Janie’s school would have also known about her allergy, and the first “accidental” nut inclusion had happened at a school event.
Even the accusation that Janie had lied fit. Whoever had asked her to keep a secret might also want to discredit her to make sure that, even if she told someone before they could kill her, no one would believe her because she had a history of lying.
My stomach rolled, but this time it wasn’t because of the smell around me. If I were right, the killer would likely try again at the play after-party today. It was the perfect opportunity. All they had to do was make a snack they knew Janie would want and label it nut-free. With all the different families and guests, there’d be no way to tell exactly who’d done it.
I checked my watch. Three-thirty. The play was less than two hours away.
Chapter 22
I tossed more bags from the dumpster, ignoring the screaming in my muscles and my body’s cringe reflex as something living moved in the corner. It was probably only a mouse. A mouse couldn’t hurt me.
I still couldn’t find my phone. A dumpster diver might have already found it and taken it. Or this could be a single day’s garbage and the load with my phone was gone. The stench suggested the former was the more likely explanation. Whatever the cause, I didn’t see my phone. Maybe it was so covered in fluid that my eyes were skimming over it in the shadows cast by the building and the sides of the dumpster.
There had to be a solution here, another way to get Dan’s phone number even if I couldn’t find my phone.
I crawled back out of the dumpster and washed my hands in the sink in the back of my truck. I forced myself to take a few deep breaths and center myself the way I used to when I knew Jarrod was trying to wind me up. Whose number did I know?
The only one I’d saved before tossing my old phone was Nicole’s. As a criminal defense attorney, she might have resources to find an unlisted phone number that I didn’t.
I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t put her in danger by giving her even a hint of where I was. This once, I’d have to break that promise. Nicole would want me to knowing a child’s life could be in danger.
One ring. Two.
Please pick up. Please pick up.
It’d been such a long time since I’d prayed, but it was the only thing I could think to do. If this didn’t work…
“Nicole Fitzhenry-Dawes.” Still Fitzhenry-Dawes professionally even though she’d changed her name after she got married.
I let out a gush of air from the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “I need help.” I explained the situation to her without enough of a pause for her to even ask what was wrong. “Can you find an unlisted cell phone number? The person I’m looking for is Dan Holmes of the Lakeshore police.”
“When you helped me when you were here and said you couldn’t let other people be hurt without anyone to turn to, I didn’t think you’d take it this far. This is the second crime you’ve ended up tangled up in since Fair Haven.”
I hadn’t thought I’d end up this way either. The harder I tried to stay away from the police, the more I seemed to end up right in their path.
“I’ll put in some calls,” Nicole said. “But I don’t know how long it might take.”
I thanked her and disconnected, then braced myself and climbed back into the dumpster. Until Nicole called with a number, I’d keep looking.
I had all the bags out of the dumpster and was rifling through the loose trash at the bottom when my new phone rang. I wiped my grimy hand on my equally grimy jeans, then gave up and answered my phone anyway.
“I have the number for you,” Nicole said without bothering with a hello. “I had to call Erik, but he was able to contact the Lakeshore PD and convince them to give it to him. I’m sorry it took as long as it did. Erik said they made him jump through hoops to prove he was who he said he was first.”
I didn’t care that it’d taken a few minutes extra so long as I had the number.
I had Nicole wait while I exited the dumpster again and got something to write the number down. I thanked her and disconnected.
Once I got a hold of Dan, I’d rest for a minute and then return all the trash to the dumpster. It wasn’t fair of me to leave it there for the garbage men to have to pick up when they’d come expecting to simply dump the dumpster into their truck and move on.
The play was only an hour and a half from starting now.
I dialed the number Nicole gave me. The phone went instantly to voice mail.
No. No, no, no. He must have already turned his phone off for the play. Either that or he didn’t answer unknown numbers.
I called back. “It’s Isabel. Janie’s in danger. I need you to call me right away.”
I left my new phone number.
You’ve done your due diligence, Fear said. Now you need to take care of yourself and run.
Maybe Fear was right and wise, but going further away before I knew Janie was safe left my stomach feeling like I had food poisoning, worse even than I’d felt from getting a big wiff of the rotting garbage.
Dan might not turn his phone back on immediately after the play finished. If I was right that someone at her school was behind this, he might receive my message too late.
But the only other way to reach him was to go back. Going back ensured that the police would catch me. Allowing the police to catch me and identify me as Amy Miller, potentially keeping me in a holding cell until they could decide whether to charge me with Harold’s murder or not, meant Jarrod was sure to come for me.
He’d pay my bail, take me away, and then no one would ever see me again. Everyone would believe I’d jumped bail, leaving my devoted husband in the lurch. No one would think he’d killed me.
But my other alternative was to risk letting a little girl die to save myself.
I hadn’t been brave enough to leave Jarrod when I was pregnant. My fear and my hope that he’d change for the baby kept me there. It cost my child’s life.
I’d seen my rescue of Janie before as a small atonement. If I ran now instead of going back, it’d be worse than what I’d done to my baby because I knew what would happen if Dan didn’t get my message in time.
Jarrod might find me and kill me, but at least I’d die knowing I’d done the right thing.
I had to go back to Lakeshore.
Chapter 23
I drove faster than the speed limit back to Lakeshore. It’d taken me almost two hours to get from Lakeshore to Detroit yesterday. I had half that time to get back now.
Avoiding a ticket was the least of my worries. My suspicion could be entirely wrong. This might all be pointless in the end. But it didn’t feel wrong. It all made sense.
I didn’t know which teacher or volunteer Janie might know the secret about, but the most important thing was to make sure she was safe. After that, Dan could explain it all to Detective Labreck, and they could get a warrant for the fingerprints of everyone who worked with Janie’s class. Even if Claire had invited one of them to the party—which was unlikely—they’d have a hard time explaining why their fingerprints were on all the bottles. Coupled with whatever damaging secret Janie knew, it should be enough for an arrest.
Even if it wasn’t enough to immediately enact an arrest, Janie would be safe once the secret was out and the police had a suspect. Whoever it was might try to flee, but they weren’t likely to still kill Janie at that point.
I called Dan three more times on the drive. His phone went directly to voicemail each time.
My gas tank needle touched red, but I was sure I didn’t have time to fuel up. How long would a children’s play last? Half an hour at most?
All the parking spots near the theater where the invitation said the play was taking place were full by the time I got there. My truck made a sputter
ing noise right before I turned it off, like it’d finally drunk up the last drop of gasoline.
Wooden blocks propped the front doors open, and a Bristol board sign declared the play’s name and time. The cat on this one was in color—black and white with a red sock on his head.
I jogged down the hallway, following the paw-print signs to the auditorium. The doors were closed. Two men wearing bowties stood outside the doors. Based on the fact that they both held a stack of folded papers that looked like programs, they had to be either working for the theater or for the school as ushers.
As I got close, they both turned in my direction. The skinnier one backed away two steps and pressed a hand over his mouth and nose.
The other’s gaze jumped from my face to my feet and back again. Unlike his partner, he stepped sideways, blocking my access to the auditorium. “May we help you?”
I glanced down at my clothes. Food leftovers that even I couldn’t identify covered the front of my shirt and smeared my jeans in an array of red, brown, darker brown, and greenish brown. Based on the reaction of the man who’d backed away, I probably stank like rotting meat and moldy potatoes. Somewhere on the drive, I’d gone nose-blind to the stench.
My gut reaction was to slink away. My appearance and smell would draw everyone’s attention to me. But I didn’t have time to find a sneaky way around them or to clean up.
“I’m looking for…” What was the name of Janie’s teacher again? It’d been on the door under her picture. “I’m looking for Ms. Glover’s class.”
The skinny man made a gagging noise and edged even further away.
The other man—whose eyebrows reminded me of corn silk—broadened his stance. “Are you a parent?”
I was a mom, even if my baby hadn’t lived. He hadn’t asked if I was a parent of one of the children here. “Yes.”
He opened up the program. “Which child?”
Either I’d hesitated too long in my answer or my smell made me seem like a liar. Now I would have to lie, but at this point scruples seemed to favor stopping a murder over telling the truth. “Janie Holmes.” I swiped my hands down the front of my shirt. “I didn’t have time to shower after I got off work, but I can’t miss her play.”
“Where do you work?” the gagging man whispered, almost under his breath. “A sewage treatment plant.”
I’d had to act while with Jarrod, pretending things didn’t hurt when they did and that I agreed with him when I didn’t. Maybe those skills could extend a little further to pretending confidence and bravado when I didn’t feel it.
I flashed the skinny usher a grin. “How’d you know? We had a line break today or I would have been here earlier.”
The ushers exchanged a look that said is she a nutter or telling the truth? It was almost as if they didn’t know whether it was easier to believe that I was a sewage plant worker who came to her daughter’s play covered in human filth or that I was a delusional homeless person who was quick-witted enough to come up with that story.
It gave me an idea. I moved as if to open the door. “I was thinking I’d just say hi to Janie and then try to grab a shower at home before the family party, but I could go take a seat if you think that’d be better.”
You’d have thought I dangled a dead mouse in front of skinny usher’s nose based on his face. He scooted over next to the usher who was playing the role of human wall, put his hand up to the man’s ear, and started whispering.
Without super hearing, I couldn’t tell what he was saying. Best guess it was something about how it’d ruined the entire play if they let me in there. People would have to move because they wouldn’t be able to sit next to me, and how were they ever supposed to get the smell out of the cushioned seats?
Skinny guy backed away again.
Blockade usher didn’t relinquish his place. “Down the hall to the left. Each grade has their own room so you’ll need to find your daughter’s class on your own.”
As I turned away, I caught a glimpse of them huddle-talking again. They could be deciding whether to call the police just in case.
I had to move fast.
Only one grown up spotted me as I hustled from room to room. From the double take she did, she’d be calling someone if the ushers didn’t. One room was empty except for children’s belongings. That class was probably playing its part on the stage. Based on the music filtering softly down the hallway, the play was a musical. Some of the older students likely had speaking roles and the younger classes must each have a musical number.
The next room, I peeked around the edge of the doorway and spotted the teacher’s assistant from Janie’s class. The kids were lined up, singing, presumably practicing their part one last time before they went on stage.
Janie wasn’t with them.
Chapter 24
I pulled my head back out of sight.
Maybe Janie had a special role and that’s why she wasn’t in the room. But wouldn’t Dan have mentioned that when he invited me to the play?
It was also possible that Janie had taken sick today, and they weren’t here at all. But then why wouldn’t Dan have answered his phone?
I walked casually by the room, looking in as I passed.
Janie wasn’t the only one missing. The teacher’s assistant was there, but her teacher wasn’t. This wasn’t the kind of event a teacher handed off to someone else.
If my suspicions were correct, her teacher could be the one who wanted her dead. She might have already taken Janie somewhere.
The question was where? My heart felt like it was beating faster than the second-hand on a watch.
I continued down the hall, looking into each room as I passed. Janie wasn’t in any of them.
I had to stop and think rather than continuing to run blindly around. This building was too big for me to check every nook and cranny.
Whoever was behind this had taken great pains to cover their tracks. They wanted this to look like an accident. There were limited ways to make a child’s death look like an accident in a building like this. They could push her down a flight of stairs. Or they could stick to their original plan and feed her something with nuts in it.
Given how many people would be bringing food, it’d be easy for someone to claim that Janie had gotten something that someone had accidentally put a nut product into. If the killer were smart, they wouldn’t leave fingerprints behind on their baked good this time.
I’d seen a sign at the last hallway I passed pointing to the reception hall. That seemed like the best bet for where the desserts would be waiting.
The hallway was empty. I sprinted down it.
The doors to the reception hall were closed. I tugged on one, and it opened. I burst through the doors, not sure exactly what I expected to find.
I hadn’t expected an empty room. The food was there in Tupperware containers and plates covered in Saran Wrap. I walked alongside it—chocolate chip cookies, lemon bars, cherry tarts, at least three batches of brownies. Nothing screamed I hold deadly nuts, but I hadn’t expected it to stand out.
A faint scuffling noise came from somewhere behind me.
I spun around. The room still seemed to be empty, but there was another door at the end next to the fire exit. The sign on the door read Janitor.
A small squeak that sounded like an injured mouse came from behind the door. It might be machinery, but I’d come this far and drawn this much attention to myself already. Barging into a janitorial closet only to find a janitor or an actual mouse wouldn’t make it much worse.
I threw the door open.
The “closet” turned out to be more of a room. Three slop sinks lined the back along with a large industrial vacuum cleaner and another machine I didn’t recognize.
A woman faced the corner of the room between the strange piece of machinery and the wall. I couldn’t see her face or what was behind her, but I had a good guess.
“What are you doing?” I tried to shout, but my voice came out weak, the same way it had the few t
imes I’d tried to stand up to Jarrod.
It must have been enough. The woman pivoted around. She was an athletic forty-something, and she held a brownie in one hand.
The image was so ludicrous I almost couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Janie hunched behind her, both hands over her mouth. She looked up and dropped her hands. “Isabel!”
The way she said my name made my heart feel like it’d been crushed under a rolling pin. It carried a lot of fear. And hope. Like maybe she was safe because I was there.
The woman didn’t move. There was almost an unnatural calm about her. Despite the dim lighting and her hair being longer than it was in the picture on Janie’s classroom door, I recognized her as Janie’s teacher. Ms. Glover according to the name tag beneath the sign.
We stared each other down. The look she gave me reminded me of someone staring down a snake when they weren’t sure whether it was poisonous or not.
“You’ll need to leave. I’m in the middle of disciplining a student.”
The note of authority in her voice was strong enough that my spine felt turned to soup.
I glanced at Janie. She had her knees up to her chest now. Her cheeks were wet. In the dim lighting, I couldn’t tell if her cheeks were a normal color or flushed with the beginnings of a rash.
I wasn’t leaving her here, no matter who ordered me. I inclined my head to one side. “With a brownie?”
“I caught her in here stealing things from the dessert tables. I took this from her. Something I’ll discuss with her father later.”
The implication was that I had no right to question her. Had I been anyone else, I probably would have believed her and left. Because kids snuck food, especially dessert. I’d done it as a child.
And maybe she was telling the truth, but the look on Janie’s face said otherwise.
I moved a step farther into the room and made sure Janie saw that I wasn’t leaving. “Is that true?”
She shot a glance at Ms. Glover and shook her head.
