by Hillary Avis
He crossed his arms, his mouth surly. “No, she doesn’t. She says all it takes is one mistake. Like if you’re driving a car and you have a crash, then you’re dead.”
“Nobody ever died from making cookies,” Allison said lightly. “Now here, toss the chocolate chips in the flour. That way they won’t sink to the bottom of the cookies. You don’t want chocolate on your bottom, do you?”
He didn’t laugh at her joke. Instead, his frown deepened. Maybe he was too old for bottom jokes, or maybe he’d had to grow up too fast when his parents died. That made for a grim childhood. “No chocolate.”
Allison gave a mock gasp. “A kid who doesn’t like chocolate chips? What’s wrong with you?”
“Chocolate is bad for dogs. I read they can die from it.”
“That’s true, but these cookies are for you. Come on, you know you want some. Listen to all that deliciousness in there.” She shook the chocolate chip bag.
He cracked a smile, and she could tell his resolve was weakening.
“We can make some dog biscuits after this,” she cajoled in a sing-song voice. “Peanut butter flavor.”
He finally relented. “OK. How much so I put in?”
When the cookies were in the oven, they mixed up a batch of dog biscuits to follow and then worked elbow-to-elbow at the counter cutting them into heart and flower shapes with Allison’s smallest set of cookie cutters as they waited for the timer to sound.
Taylor chattered along, narrating his own actions, seeming to have forgotten his earlier serious mood. When she finally convinced him to go home, full of cookies and promises, she found herself at the dining table, staring at the stack of books she’d put aside when Taylor knocked on the back door. Homicides, a slim tan volume, was on top.
Zack’s memory of killing Tim and Dara Robinson was in there, now. And like it or not, she had to read it, so she could write two murder confessions into the books: one in Leroy’s memory and one in Zack’s. Then the new memory would be bulletproof, able to withstand any lie detector test. She took a deep breath, braced herself for the ugly details, and opened the cover.
The table of contents still only listed six homicides, the same five that had always been there, plus the entry for the Robinsons that she’d added herself. She frowned at the page. Where was Zack’s memory of killing the couple, of creeping in the dark forest at night to slip his rescued rattlesnake into their sleeping bag? Had she somehow negated it by adding in a false memory under the same names? She uttered a frustrated screech and slapped her hand down on the tabletop next to the book
Beside her, the snarl of sleeping puppies jolted awake. Wilson toddled to the edge of the pen and snuffled hopefully at her but then, realizing she had no treats for him, nodded off again.
“It should be in the library,” she murmured to his sleeping form as she gnawed her thumbnail pensively. If Zack remembered his crime, then it was written in a memory book. “If not here, then somewhere.”
Maybe the Robinsons’ deaths weren’t in Homicides because Zack hadn’t done the killing himself—his rescued rattlesnake, Cleo, had been the one to deliver the fatal dose of venom. Allison pushed aside one stack of books and pulled another toward herself, sliding books from the top of the pile until she found the one she was looking for: Snakes and Lizards.
With trembling fingers, she opened the book. The table of contents was a list of Latin species names. A quick internet search later, and she turned to the chapter titled Crotalus oreganus. Western rattlesnake.
It was a surprisingly long section of the book, full of the recollections of hiking, camping, and other outdoor pastimes that were popular with folks in Remembrance. It seemed everyone had chanced upon a rattlesnake at some point in their lives, even if it was just dead by the side of the highway. She skimmed, careful not to read more than a sentence of each entry and risk spiraling into the memory, as she searched for Zack’s name among the subheadings.
But it was Leroy’s entry that caught her eye. Under his chapter heading, Elaine and Zack’s names blared out from the page, drawing Allison to read more than just the first line.
“Elaine’s boy, Zack, didn’t look much like her. He must resemble his deceased father...”
The memory bloomed, and Allison suddenly found herself in a gravel parking lot surrounded by a stand of scrubby oaks, the pleasant afternoon light filtering through their narrow, knobby trunks. She looked down and saw Leroy’s dusty cowboy boots on her feet. Next to her, Elaine was nearly vibrating with energy. The silver in her hair lit up like stars when the shifting sunbeams caught it. Her features were delicate, her skin stretched thin over her birdlike bones as she beamed at her son as he got out of the car.
Zack looked nothing like her. Allison didn’t know what she’d expected—obviously, a grown man wouldn’t be as petite and feminine as Elaine. She’d assumed Zack would be slender like his mother, though, and pale from years spent studying law books. But the lanky, muscular man in front of them could be an international soccer player or one of those ambitious outdoorsy types who sometimes stopped off to resupply in Remembrance during their trek along the Pacific Crest Trail. You could really see the Claypool in him. It was jarring to see one of their faces right in front of her, faces she’d only seen in the photos on Mother’s mantle. It felt a little like meeting a TV celebrity.
Zack gave them a half wave in greeting and then stooped slightly to slide a Rubbermaid tote from the backseat of his little red car. Now that was what she’d expected from a Portland lawyer—a car with more style than substance, and probably a sky-high price tag, too. Zack directed his question to her. “Did you find a good spot?”
Elaine answered first. “Not yet, honey, Leroy’s still scouting. You don’t need to wait around, though. If you leave the box with us, we’ll make sure she ends up in a happy home. I know you need to get back.”
“Got a couple possibilities,” Allison added. “Nice rocky outcrop not far from here.” She motioned to the wood-chipped path to their left that led off through the oaks and into the Doug firs and pines of the Timber Falls wilderness.
Zack’s eyebrows raised. “Let’s go check it out.”
To Allison’s surprise, Elaine frowned at them both. “We shouldn’t drag Cleo here, there, and everywhere. We’ll take our time, make the right decision, and then release her.”
Zack rolled his eyes and headed toward the trailhead. Over his shoulder, he said, “C’mon, I’m sure it’ll be fine. She just needs a rock to hide under and another rock to get some sun.”
“It’s very shady.” Elaine pattered after him in her little ballerina flats. “And it’s close to the trail!”
Zack stopped, turning back to Allison. “You said there were a couple possibilities?”
Allison nodded, darting a glance at Elaine. Elaine gave one deliberate shake of her head: No. Whatever her reasons, Allison didn’t care one way or another if Zack accompanied them. She shifted the toothpick from one side of her mouth to the other. “Well, I have an idea. Haven’t scouted it, though.”
That was a lie. She had scouted it that morning—it was a spot up on the ridge to the east of the parking lot. Not a ton of rocks for a snake to hide under, but some. And it was further off the beaten path than the other spot. That was why she hadn’t suggested it first; she didn’t want to climb up the steep slope twice in one day. Plus the flimsy little numbers Elaine had on her feet wouldn’t make it five yards into that terrain.
Zack looked torn as he stared at the tote in his hands. Elaine patted his arm. “Don’t worry. Leave it to us. Leroy’ll send you a picture when he lets her go.”
He lifted his eyes to Allison. “You’ve released snakes before?”
“Oh, sure.” Allison nodded, thinking back to all the critter’s she’d turned out into these woods. “The ODFW guys are always scooping rattlers—and big ol’ bull snakes folks think are rattlers—out of people’s back yards. They usually release up here themselves, but in the off season, they don’t have time to coord
inate with the park service and get the gates unlocked, so they just drop off their traps and hit the emergency call button. And you know where that goes—my office. So we come up and dump ’em off where they won’t bother the nice people.”
“See? Cleo’s in good hands,” Elaine said soothingly, reaching out for the tote. “Leroy’s very capable.”
Zack ignored his mother and handed the container to Allison, his mouth twisted with—something. “Dump ’em?”
So that was what was bothering him. Allison laughed, jostling the box. The plastic vibrated in her hands as the rattler inside expressed her displeasure. “Figure of speech. I’ll be gentle as a kitten without claws.”
Zack’s shoulders relaxed and he glanced at his watch. “OK, good—I’ve got a dentist appointment, and I’m just going to make it on time as long as one of your buddies doesn’t pull me over for speeding.”
“He’ll call highway patrol and clear the way,” Elaine said, her laugh ringing like a crystal bell and bouncing off the trees. Then she gave Allison a look that promised heat. “Won’t you, Leroy?”
Allison flushed and ducked her head, suddenly eager for Zack to leave. “’Course I will. Anything for your boy.”
Zack’s red Acura pulled out, leaving a cloud of dust shimmering in its wake, and the memory faded away.
“Ew,” Allison said aloud, her skin crawling as the surge of excitement Leroy had felt at the prospect of being alone with Elaine faded. Her disgust morphed into hope as she realized the implications of the memory. It looked like Zack hadn’t murdered the Robinsons after all! At the end of Leroy’s memory, the snake was in his hands, while Zack was on his way back to Portland.
Zack hadn’t released the snake himself—he’d trusted Leroy and his mother to do it for him. After all, why wouldn’t they? He believed his mother was afraid of snakes, and Leroy was apparently a seasoned rattlesnake handler, assuming he wasn’t exaggerating his experience for Elaine’s benefit. Leroy seemed willing to do just about anything for her. And that feeling he’d had at the end of the memory...that had felt horrifying close to—
“Love.” The word left Allison’s lips and lingered in the still air of the dining room. Leroy was in love with Elaine Kirkpatrick. She had him under her thumb. He’d lie for her. The question was—would he kill for her, too?
Chapter 23
Allison set the book down in front of Michelle, pointed to Leroy’s entry, and stood back. She waited until Michelle finished reading. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That you were wrong about Zack? Then yes, I am. Now, aren’t you glad you didn’t meddle further?”
Allison’s temper flared slightly. “Not really. If I hadn’t meddled, I wouldn’t have found this memory.”
“You might have put another innocent person in jail, by the looks of it.”
Another? “Elaine’s not exactly innocent.”
“She’s not exactly guilty, either, is she? According to this memory”—Michelle tapped the page with her blunt fingertip—“it may be Leroy Gauss’s doing.”
Allison nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking. Maybe Elaine talked him into releasing the snake into Tim and Dara’s tent.”
“Or maybe not.” Michelle squeezed her eyes shut, her forehead creasing as she struggled with the painful memory. “Maybe not.”
Allison opened Homicides, holding her breath as she scanned the list of victims again. Same six chapters, the Robinsons’ names in her own handwriting. Nothing new.
“Well of course it’s not in there! If Leroy did it, it would have been there to begin with. He’s lived here his whole miserable life.” Across the table, Michelle’s lips pursed disapprovingly.
“I could—” Allison started, but Michelle was way ahead of her.
“Add it? What good would that do if the person who actually did it is still running around out there? Anyway, what will the DA say when a second person pleads guilty to the same crime? They might both go free. You’re being reckless.” Michelle shook her head, sending her silver-gold hair flying. “Did you tell Emily like you promised? Now that we have proof Zack wasn’t involved in my son’s murder, you can’t put it off any longer.”
“I mentioned it to her on the phone this morning,” Allison said meekly.
“Well? What’d she say?”
“She thinks it’s some mass delusion. Apparently, Elaine has a bug in Zack’s ear and told him about the library. The two of them think that the fact that our stories match is evidence of contamination in the tap water. She made me promise not to drink it until she comes down to visit again.”
Michelle snorted a laugh. “Wouldn’t that be a kick? Maybe we’re all nuts. Maybe my dad was, too, and your husband, and everyone in this godforsaken town. That’s starting to seem a whole lot more likely than the chance we’ll sort out who did what, to whom, and when.”
Allison felt sick. “I know what Elaine did to Paul. That isn’t something I hallucinated. Maybe we can still find the truth in the library. Just because Zack didn’t commit the murder doesn’t mean he’s not guilty—maybe all three of them worked together. I can find out more, I know I can. I just need more time.”
“More time,” Michelle mimicked in an ugly voice. She pointed accusingly at the Homicides book in Allison’s hands. “If one of them did it, it’d be in there. End of story. All we can do now is protect ourselves, protect our children, and protect the library. Time is not on our side.”
Tears pricked the corners of Allison’s eyes as she tried to rebut Michelle’s argument. But she couldn’t. Michelle, for all her rigidity and narrow focus, was right. They didn’t have time, not if someone was out there, plotting, just beyond the library’s purview. In a last, desperate grab for answers, she opened the Homicides book one last time.
“It’s not there.” Michelle’s voice was almost a wail as her sadness rose to the surface.
Allison clenched her jaw, running her hand down the gutter between each of the chapters, unwilling to admit defeat. Finally, she felt the sting she’d been waiting for. She held up her hand to show Michelle the drop of blood welling from the papercut on her finger. “Look. It is there—or it was.”
Michelle’s mouth dropped open, and she struggled to rise in her seat so she could reach the book. She yanked it toward herself and sat down heavily in a single motion, cracking the spine and holding the book close to her face to see into the gutter.
“Elaine must have cut it out the same night she removed Paul’s memories,” Allison said. “She waited until the murder was in the books, then sliced it out with her X-Acto knife. Whoever killed Tim and Dara doesn’t remember they did it. It’s someone here in town, obviously. Someone willing to do anything for Elaine. That points to Leroy. He’s the only one who fits that criteria.”
Michelle looked up at her. “There is one other possibility.”
“Zack? I don’t think so—in Leroy’s memory, he said he had a dentist appointment. He seemed pretty determined to be on time for it. I can’t imagine he changed his mind.”
“I agree. It’s not Zack. He didn’t live here in Remembrance then, so his memories wouldn’t have been in the books. Elaine couldn’t have torn out his pages even if she wanted to.”
“It has to be Leroy, then.”
Michelle shook her head. “Think about it. As far as we know, Elaine only removed one person’s memories from the library.” Michelle sat back in her chair, waiting, as Allison puzzled over what she’d said. She had to mean—
“Paul?” Adrenaline jolted through Allison as his name escaped her lips. Could it be? Were Paul and Elaine working together all this time? Her heart thudded. It could explain why Elaine was so keen to insert herself into their family. Why she fawned over Emily and insisted that Allison stay in the background.
“Why wouldn’t Elaine try and get close to him, if her plan was to join the Baker and Claypool families anyway?” Michelle’s eyes burned into Allison. “He’d be the perfect ally.”
“Paul wouldn’
t do that.” Her tongue felt numb in her mouth. “He wouldn’t push you out.”
“The Bakers pushed out the Claypools before. Why not the Crisps, now?” Michelle shrugged.
“That was for a good reason! And your family agreed. Paul is no more likely to go back on his agreement than you. If Elaine approached him—” Realization dawned on Allison and she broke off. “Did she come to you first? Is that how you know?”
Michelle snorted a laugh. “I think I’m immune to her brand of persuasion.” By her tone, it was obvious she meant seduction. Seeing Elaine through Leroy’s eyes, Allison could understand why. Elaine was beautiful in her own way, and she doled out attention to get what she wanted. But would Paul be susceptible to that kind of manipulation?
Maybe. He was human, and humans are far more complex than they were usually credited. He could, for example, love his wife and also betray her. But could didn’t mean did.
She swallowed the lump of doubt that had nearly choked her. “We know Elaine tore out his memories—decades of memories—to learn where he hid the pen. It took her years to find all those pages. She wouldn’t need to do that if he was working with her. She could just ask him.”
Michelle eyed her coolly. “Maybe he said no. Maybe he wanted to keep that little bit of power to himself.”
Allison leaned forward slightly, trying to catch her breath. “He wouldn’t give her the pen, but he’d commit a double murder because she said so? I can swallow his infidelity, but I can’t believe he’d kill Tim and Dara.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be them in the tent, remember? It was supposed to be me.” Michelle’s face hardened into an implacable mask.
“He wouldn’t kill you,” Allison protested, even though she was feeling more and more like murdering Michelle herself.
“Are you sure about that?” Michelle sucked in her cheeks.
“You were friends.”
“Sure we were.” Michelle’s tone said something else.
“What happened between you?” Allison asked, curiosity worming its way past her animosity. Maybe Paul and Michelle’s high school breakup had been more troubled than she realized.
