by Debra Webb
“No one ever suspected?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Could Donna have pretended to be you in other situations?”
Dana frowned. “Why would she do that?”
“You were accused of having problems with the Shepard girl and the Ellis girl. Is it possible Donna was the one who had trouble with them while pretending to be you?”
“Patty was a grade higher and Ginger…” Dana wanted to deny the possibility. To say that her sister wouldn’t have been involved with either girl, but that wasn’t true. Patty was a second-year cheerleader; Ginger had just made the team. Both had been in Dana and Donna’s gym class. Still, her sister was loved by all. She never had trouble…unless she was taking up for Dana. “I suppose it’s possible.” That was as far as she was willing to go along those lines. Why would her sister have gone so far? She would never have hurt an animal.
Whispers from the past echoed in Dana’s ears as if refuting her conclusion. Dana shook off the creepy sensations.
Dana understood what he was getting at. It was time she told him the truth. She was the one he needed to be looking at as a suspect.
“There’s something I haven’t told you.” Her pulse jumped. She’d taken the first step. There was no turning back now.
“Take your time,” he said quietly. “And remember, I’m on your side.”
But how long would that last when she told him about her dreams?
“When the nightmares started they were a little vague. Just unnerving.”
“That’s fairly typical after a life-altering trauma.”
“Then the images became clearer and clearer.”
Dana moistened her lips and tried to take a breath, couldn’t manage it. Don’t stop now. Tell him. Just tell him.
“I dream that I’m lying on the blanket with my sister and I fall asleep. Like I told you. Then…” The point of no return. “Then suddenly I’m holding a pillow…over my sister’s face and she’s trying to get away, but she can’t.” She swallowed back the threatening emotions. “Because I’m sitting astride her. I have her arms pinned down with my knees…it…”
Those images flashed through her mind then, as if to confirm her words. She shook with the force of it. Dear God. How could she have killed her own sister? How could…?
Dana couldn’t hold back anymore; she broke down. The sobs just kept coming, kept rocking through her.
A strong arm was suddenly around her. Spence consoled her with quiet words, kept that arm tight around her trembling shoulders.
When she could speak again, Dana scrubbed at her face and turned to him. “What if I killed my sister? And the others? How could I have done such a thing?” She dropped her face into her hands. “I don’t understand.”
“Sometimes dreams distort what really happened. The fact that you survived and your sister didn’t has heaped a lot of guilt onto your shoulders. You may be seeing yourself as the killer merely because you survived.”
Dana wiped her eyes and nose and tried to calm the hiccupping sobs. When she’d regained her composure again, she admitted, “I’ve never considered that possibility.” Tears burned her eyes again. “I just always assumed I could be guilty.” She closed her eyes and clung to hope. “I was so afraid. But I have to know for certain.”
“And you will.”
Dana looked up at him. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m not going to stop until I know what really happened here. The chief isn’t being on the up and up with us. The whole investigation feels like a cover-up was going on. I just don’t know who he’s protecting.”
“Maybe it’s me.” Her voice quavered.
“Maybe,” Spence admitted. “But that’s what we’re going to find out.”
She’d expected him to want nothing else to do with her when he learned the part she’d kept to herself. Why was he taking it so calmly?
“But what if I killed her?”
Spence pushed the hair from her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I’m a decent judge of people, Dana. I knew you were hiding something, but I don’t think you’re a killer.”
She started to argue, but he stopped her with a touch of his forefinger to her lips.
“Don’t keep obsessing on that one aspect or you’ll ignore everything else. Explore your memories, let your dreams flow unimpeded. You might see more than you’ve allowed yourself to see until now. We have to consider the big picture. There are people we need to talk to. Like Lorie Hamilton, Patty Shepard and Ginger Ellis. I’d like to interview Joanna’s and Sherry’s parents as well.”
That was not going to be easy. The possibility of any of those people cooperating was little to none.
But they had to try. He was reasonably sure that Ginger Ellis was the waitress he’d met at the diner. Ginger wasn’t a common name and this was a small town.
“Let’s go.” He stood, gave her a hand getting up. “We’re going to that diner and we’ll have lunch. Then we’ll start with Lorie Hamilton.”
If they could find her.
The thought of going to the diner and having people stare at her wasn’t exactly palatable. But she had Spence on her side.
She wasn’t alone.
The walk back through the woods was filled with a sense of relief rather than the anxiety she’d felt on the way in. Having finally admitted her deepest fear had removed a tremendous weight from her chest.
It was the first time she’d trusted anyone enough to tell them the truth.
They’d just rounded the corner of her childhood home when Spence stalled.
Dana started to ask him what was wrong, but then her gaze lit on the car.
The windshield was smashed. The two tires within her line of sight were deflated. But it was the words painted along the side of the dark-blue sedan that shook her to the core of her being.
No more victims.
Chapter Eleven
Spence stood by while the chief and one of his deputies wrote up the report on his vandalized car. Fury lashed through him each time he considered Gerard’s nonchalance about the situation.
Like I told you, son, folks around here aren’t too keen on Dana digging around in a past they’ve worked so hard to forget.
Son. Spence gritted his teeth. The condescension he could overlook, but the cavalier attitude about the murder of three young girls Spence couldn’t abide.
The man wasn’t interested in the truth, that much was crystal clear.
And it made no sense.
Dana sat on the front steps of her house. She looked lost and afraid.
Alone.
Again, there was that question. What had she done that was so terrible her former friends and neighbors didn’t want her back in town?
And what was he doing letting this get so far under his skin? Not getting personally involved was the first rule of any investigation. He knew better.
“Well.” The chief strolled over to where Spence waited. “That’s about all we can do for now.” He tucked his notepad into his shirt pocket. “Since the Bellomys didn’t see anything and no evidence appears to have been left behind, ’cept maybe some prints that we can run for the good it’ll do us, I’m not sure we’ll be able to nail down the perp. But we’ll do all we can.”
Spence was certain he would. “I have every confidence, Chief.” Every confidence that this would be just like the triple-homicide case in his jurisdiction. Whatever this man’s motive for overlooking the criminal activities of the good citizens of his town, Spence had a feeling it had more to do with hiding some secret than with being inept.
“You folks need a ride back to the motel?”
Spence shook his head. “I have a rental car headed this way as we speak.”
“All right then.” The chief glanced at Dana. “If you need anything else you can let me know.”
So he could do nothing? Spence didn’t think he’d bother. “Thanks.”
Chief Gerard turned his back and started toward his patrol car
on the street, but then he hesitated. He turned back to Spence. “Take my advice, son. There are no answers to find here. Take that girl home before the real trouble starts. I can’t control how folks feel.”
Spence wasn’t about to justify the comment with a response. He let the chief walk away. After he’d climbed into the patrol car with his deputy and drove away, Spence joined Dana on the steps.
For a long moment she sat staring at his damaged car. Spence considered what he should say in hopes of making her feel less responsible, but he wasn’t sure that was possible. She now fully believed that she was the reason for every bad thing that had happened in her hometown.
Realistically, he recognized that she might, in part, be correct. But some part of him, a part deep inside, wouldn’t let him write her off just yet.
But then, he’d always championed the underdog.
“Everyone can’t be wrong,” she said quietly, as if she’d read his mind. “It has to be me.”
“If it were that simple,” Spence offered, “someone wouldn’t be trying so hard to send us packing.”
She met his gaze. “What do you mean?”
Spence surveyed the street where Dana Hall had lived for the first thirteen years of her life. “When a person or a group wants someone gone as bad as they clearly want you out of here, there’s a reason.”
“Maybe they’re afraid,” she said. Her breath hitched with the anxiety no doubt pulsing inside her. She indicated the vandalized car. “‘No more victims.’ That pretty much says it all.”
Her shoulders shook. Spence couldn’t help himself. He put his arm around her and pulled her against his shoulder. He knew better. But she was all alone. He was the only one representing her rights.
Was that a mistake?
Was she a killer?
He didn’t think so.
Spence looked down at her and hoped like hell he wasn’t allowing his need to protect override his professional logic.
The tow truck and rental car arrived. Spence took care of the paperwork and watched as his car was towed away. He opened the front passenger door of the car. “Come on,” he said to Dana. “We have people to see.”
The uncertainty in her eyes tugged at his senses. Made him want to put his arms around her and promise her he would fix this. He would find the truth and make everything right.
But that was a promise he couldn’t make.
The only thing he could do was find the truth.
For better or worse.
LORIE HAMILTON HAD MARRIED her high school sweetheart and settled right here in Brighton. Her name was now Lorie Venable. She was a stay-at-home mom with two children and one dog, a ranch-style home and a minivan. Finding her was easy, since he’d noted her license plate number when she’d visited him at the motel. One call to the Colby Agency and he’d had her name and address.
Spence parked his rented car at the curb. He turned to Dana. “Stay calm, and let me ask the questions,” he reminded her.
Dana nodded.
She looked terrified. Her hands shook, but her expression told him she was determined to do what she could.
The slats of the blinds on the front window parted briefly as Spence and Dana moved up the sidewalk toward the neat front porch belonging to Lorie Venable.
Spence hoped the woman inside wouldn’t call the chief. He wasn’t ready to be run out of town just yet. The chief’s warnings had grown stronger and stronger with each meeting. He wasn’t going to be happy when he learned the investigation was continuing.
Raising his fist to knock, Spence was surprised when the door opened.
“What do you want?” Lorie glared from Spence to Dana then back.
“We have a few questions, Ms. Venable. Five minutes is all we need.”
Lorie glanced back quickly as if ensuring no one, probably her kids, were in earshot. “I’ve said all I have to say.”
Beside him, Dana shifted but she held damn steady beneath the woman’s bitter glare.
“You said,” Spence said, not about to give up so easily, “that Dana knew what happened. What is it you believe she knows?”
Lorie’s eyes widened, and her expression turned to one of disbelief. She pulled the door closed behind her. “I’m not going to talk in front of her!”
“Ms. Venable, you can—”
“Why?” Dana cut him off. “Why can’t you talk in front of me? I can’t remember what happened that night,” she pressed. “I want to remember. I need to know. If you can help me, I’m begging you, please help me.”
A new blast of rage obliterated the disbelief cluttering Lorie’s face. “Are you insane? You know what happened,” she accused. “Stop acting like you don’t. The only reason this case is still listed as unsolved is because the chief knows the killer. He’s just not saying to protect what’s left of your family.”
“What’re you talking about?” Dana demanded. “How could letting a killer get away be protecting my family? My sister is dead! My father is dead because of what happened.”
Spence clasped the fingers of his right hand around Dana’s arm as a signal that she needed to calm down. He hoped she would get the message.
“I don’t know what your daddy had on the chief back then,” Lorie roared right back, “but he didn’t do his job. Your sister is dead because you killed her. The only person who’s in denial is you!”
Dana staggered back a step. Spence tightened his grip on her arm. “Ms. Venable,” he said calmly, hoping to staunch the rocketing tension, “you can’t be certain who killed Donna Hall and her friends. If you were so certain, wouldn’t you have gone to the press by now? After all, if the chief didn’t do his job, what kept you from calling the state police or the FBI? Unless, of course, there’s some reason you don’t want to get involved beyond throwing around accusations.”
The red of rage drained from the woman’s face. Her hand clasped the doorknob as if she were considering taking refuge inside.
“Please,” Dana urged, her voice breaking, “help me. If I…did this…I just want the truth.”
Lorie moved her head side to side in disgust. “How can you play this game? You know what you did. You tortured all of us. You mutilated Patty’s cat! Don’t pretend you don’t remember.” Lorie shifted her renewed fury to Spence. “If you contact me again in any way, I’m calling the chief. I don’t want her near me or my family.”
Lorie Venable went back inside her house and slammed the door.
Dana started to shake. Spence steadied her as they made their way back to the car. When he’d gotten her settled in the passenger seat, he rounded the hood and slid behind the wheel.
When he’d started the engine, Dana said, “I don’t understand what she’s talking about.” She leaned heavily into the seat. “I vaguely remember there was trouble about a cat. My sister kept telling me to ignore all of it. That they were just picking on me.”
Spence took his foot off the brake and set the car in motion. “Do you have any school yearbooks? Maybe one from the year before you moved away?”
Dana thought about that for a moment. “I think so.”
“Would you have taken mementos like that with you when you moved?” If so, they’d have to try to obtain one from the school. Spence wasn’t going to hope for cooperation.
“No. We didn’t take anything from the house except the clothes on our backs and one family photo album. Mom didn’t want the reminders around. She and Dad left everything at the house here exactly as it was.”
Dana fell silent. Spence didn’t have to wonder what she was thinking. The house remained exactly as it had been, except for hers and Donna’s room.
“We need that yearbook,” he stated frankly. The images from her time in school might just prompt others. It was worth a shot.
A glimmer of courage showing, Dana affirmed, “I think I can find it.”
THE YEARBOOK HAD BEEN TUCKED away in a cedar chest along with other precious mementos from their childhood. Dolls, baby shoes…all the things that rem
ind a mother and father of their children’s early years.
Spence had felt concern when Dana first began to pick through the items. But she held up well enough. She didn’t linger on any one item, instead she focused on finding the yearbook.
He’d stopped at a convenience store and picked up refreshments. Now, back at the motel, they thumbed through the yearbook.
He wanted her to relax and let the emotions and memories flow. No pressure. No expectations. Most of all, no fear.
“Sherry and Joanna.” Dana pointed to a snapshot in a collage of others. “And, of course, that’s Donna. They were always together.”
Spence had seen a professional photo of Donna in Chief Gerard’s case file, but this was different. This one was real life, all smiles and not posed.
“Why weren’t you in the photo?” It was his understanding that Dana had been a part of her sister’s group.
“They were at a ball game. I never went to any of the sporting events.”
The introvert. “Your sister was the outgoing one.”
Dana nodded. “She liked being in the middle of things, being popular. Loved the attention, I guess. Not me.”
Spence studied the lady sitting next to him on the bed. Her profile was delicate and classically attractive. What had banished Dana Hall into herself?
“What about at home? Did Donna like being the center of attention there as well?”
Dana considered the question a moment, then said, “I don’t think it was a conscious effort. She was just the one who talked the most. She discussed current events with our father. Always wanted to help our mother plan birthdays and holiday get-togethers. I was just sort of in the background.”
Invisible. She didn’t have to say it. He understood that place. He’d seen it in others. Typically the child most abused was the one who required the least. And also very typical was Dana’s need to blame herself for all the bad that happened.
Spence reminded himself that he was giving the lady a whole hell of a lot of credit. He couldn’t be one hundred percent positive that she wasn’t responsible in some capacity for one or all of these murders.
