“No way.” She sat on the desk, and grabbed its angular edge for added assurance.
“Sorry, Addie, but it’s true. She left Marysville Merchant Bank about five-thirty yesterday. The teller who works next to her said Jennifer hinted that she was meeting someone for dinner and a romantic evening, but she wouldn’t name her date.”
“Oh, no, Joe. It can’t be.” The phone started ringing again, but Addie could only stare at him in horror.
“Better answer that, Ad. I’ll bet it’s your mom. The news has been all over television.”
Shakily, Addie picked up the receiver.
“Addie, Addie, have you heard about Jennifer Hatfield? Why didn’t you answer the phone when I called before? Are you okay?” Eileen Rivers’s worry came through loud and dear. “Addie? Answer me.”
“I hear you, Mom.” In trying to keep her voice calm for her mother’s sake, Addie found herself regaining composure. “Joe is here with me, and I’m great.”
“Addie, this proves that what I’ve been saying all along is true. Someone is after the women in your reading circle.”
“I’ll have to admit you might be right this time, Mom, but I’m fine. Really, I am.”
“You be sure Buck brings you home tonight.”
“Okay.” She said good-bye and punched the disconnect button.
Joe handed her a glass of water and she sat in her desk chair.
“Where did they find her?” she asked Joe.
“Out by the lake.”
“Near where they found Laurel?” she asked with dread.
“Yes. They called me right after I saw you this mornin’. I’ve been out there. It wasn’t pretty, Addie. You know I’ve done all I can to find the truth about Laurel’s drowning. Up until now I was pretty sure that Laurel had too much to drink that night, as she did sometimes, and that it was an accident. Janelle’s disappearance, of course, isn’t in my jurisdiction.”
“What happens now?”
“Now, there are no more coincidences. I used to think your mother was being paranoid, but she’s been right all along. We’re looking for a serial killer.” He grimaced, and took her hand in his. “Addie, you’re going to have to be mighty careful. Me or Buck will take you home at night, and bring you to work in the morning. I’ll devise some sort of alarm system for you here in the library. Donny Jim thinks the sun sets and shines because of you, and he’s here twice a week, so that’s good. Promise you will alert me to strangers who seem overly friendly.”
Crawling fear mixed with guilt when she thought about Will Court working in the nether regions of the library at this very minute. That’s silly, Addie. A distinguished professor from Yale couldn’t be a murderer, and if he were, why would he want to kill the women in her book group? Besides, he’s not a stranger, he’s our guest.
“Sure, sure, Joe. Has anyone talked to the rest of the group?”
“Yes. Sheriff Glazier told me that two of the women decided to take a few weeks of vacation and are leaving the country. Another has moved in with her parents, and Millie Bailey thinks she’ll move to Florida. She has a teaching job waiting for her there. They are all being carefully watched.”
“This is crazy. Who would want to kill harmless women who get together twice a month to talk about books?”
“Someone with a warped mind, that’s who. And don’t go thinkin’ that you’re any safer than the others were, ‘cause you’re not.”
“I’ll tell you one thing, Joe Bolo, I refuse to live in fear. I’ll be careful, but I will not sneak around looking into every corner and suspecting everyone I meet.”
He took her other hand now, and held them both in his. He squeezed them tightly, and leaned down close to her face, nose to nose, to say, “You listen to me, Addie Rivers. You better be scared. You better be damned scared.”
3
AN ESCALATING WIND WHIPPED AND tore at the farmhouse, its keening chilling to ear, bone, and soul.
Addie gave the fire a jab with the poker to perk it up. The flames leaped high, gold and blue sparks reaching for the chimney, and she wished her spirits matched the soaring flames. She worked to hide her melancholy from Joe, and more importantly, to hide the growing panic she seemed helpless to control.
Always strong, sensible and intrepid, although prone to romantic flights of fancy, Addie hated being afraid of anything. The events of the last few days, however, had compelled her to acknowledge that there were unseen malevolent forces over which she had no power.
Finally, she turned to force a smile at Joe, hugged her sweater closer about her shoulders, and sat down on the sofa next to him.
“This is kinda romantic, Ad,” said Joe. “Is this what you and Buck do on rainy nights? Sorry. That’s none of my business, but I bet you wish Buck was here instead of me.”
“Not necessarily. Buck can’t miss a PTA meeting, and it’s always nice being with you. We had some good times in high school, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, we did, and I wish that we were on a date right now, and we were roastin’ marshmallows for the fun of it, and not because you need someone to protect you.”
“Well, I’m roasting marshmallows for fun, and I’m not thinking of you as some sort of bodyguard. You’re a friend and you should visit more often.”
“How was the funeral this afternoon?” asked Joe.
“Pretty bad. Millie and I sat with Jennifer’s parents. We were the only members of the book group there. Maria and Sally are in London for a month. Fannie is looking for a job in San Francisco.”
In the church, Buck’s tall form sitting next to her should have made her feel safe, thought Addie. But it hadn’t. The harsh reality of the murders of her friends had come into sharp, excruciating focus at the funeral. Buck’s protective arm around her shoulders hadn’t taken away the stark sadness on Mrs. Hatfield’s face, or Millie’s shaking hands and terror-stricken eyes. Sheriff’s deputies stationed throughout, trying to be unobtrusive, but failing, had only intensified her apprehension. Safeness, sureness, the promise of a normal tomorrow had become a foreign concept, something she would never feel again.
She ached to go back two days, six months, a year, laugh with Laurel again, trade barbs with Janelle, argue with Jennifer the merits of Joyce Carol Oates.
Addie withdrew her blackened marshmallow from the fire, grabbed a graham cracker layered with Hershey Bar, smushed the sticky concoction together, and handed it with a flourish to Joe. He took a big bite, chewed with approval, and groaned with delight.
“Wow, this is dee-licious. Great idea we had. Just the thing to keep our minds off the storm, and off the loony who’s offing beautiful bookish women.”
As if in answer to mention of the storm, the shrill wind rattled the windows, threatening entrance, and the lights flickered off and on. Addie shivered and rubbed her hands together. The sturdy country house, this cozy room, the cheerful fireplace, and putting together the chocolate-marshmallow confection she’d made since she was a Girl Scout should be shoring her up, giving her a semblance of security. But she couldn’t rid herself of a spiraling, panicking perception that her life was out of control.
“Deputy Lee Bert called right before I came over here,” said Joe, “to tell me the police in Marysville have called in the FBI. He says it’s hailing over there. Sure hope your mom gets home from prayer meeting okay.”
“Mom hates to miss Wednesday Prayer Meeting, but she wouldn’t leave until you called to say you were coming. I’m sure she’ll stay at church until the storm’s over. It’ll give her an excuse to gossip with her friends, and they’re finishing plans for the Fall Hoedown next week.”
“I told you I’d make sure you were never alone until we catch this creep.” He munched his s’mores, licking the marshmallow off his fingers. “I’m relieved your mom doesn’t have bed-and-breakfast guests right now. I don’t like the idea of strangers being around you in any kind of situation.”
“But we do have a guest. I thought you knew. His name is Dr. William Court, and
he’s doing research at the library. I don’t know where he is this evening.”
Joe wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, stared at her in disbelief, and frowned. “You’ve got some guy stayin’ here that you don’t even know? Christ Almighty, Adelaide Rivers, you should have told me. Where is he from, and how do you know he’s who he says he is? I mean, don’t you think it’s damned suspicious that this guy shows up here the same time as the third murder?”
“Calm down, Joe. He’s a professor from Yale, and he’s perfectly legitimate. I read a book of his a few years ago.”
“Just because he writes books doesn’t mean he isn’t a murderer.”
“Trust me, he’s okay,” Addie said. She would never admit to him her own underlying anxieties about the fascinating and mysterious Will Court.
“I want to meet him, talk to him, do some checking up on him.”
Addie sighed. “Okay, if you must. If he doesn’t arrive before you leave tonight, talk to him tomorrow. I hardly know the man, but I’ll guarantee he won’t be cooperative. He seems very much the individual, has an air of detachment, sort of a ‘touch me if you can, but I’ll decide who’s boss here’ attitude.”
She realized she was talking too much, and Joe was looking at her in alarm.
“Christ Almighty, Addie, you talk like you know the man better than you say. How long has he been here?”
“Three nights.”
“Hmmmm, well, if I was you, I’d be mighty careful about making quick friends with him.”
���I’ll be careful.”
But Addie remembered the searing kiss in the library, and her rhythmic heartbeats stopped and melded together in one long, wrenching stroke that threatened to splinter her ribs. Cracker crumbs caught in her throat, and she choked, coughing, until her eyes teared.
Joe offered her water and smacked her on her back a couple of times, looking at her with concern. “Okay?”
She nodded, “Thanks, Joe. I wish you wouldn’t worry about me so much.”
“Have to, and I wish you would take all of this more seriously.”
“I take it very seriously, but I hate all the suffocating attention. Everyone in town watches every move I make.”
“I damned well hope they do. In fact, Addie Rivers, that’s an awesome idea. I’m going to deputize everyone in Blue Springs. They are never to take their eyes off you.”
Addie frowned. “You’re teasing, right, Joe?”
“Maybe,” he said. He poured another cup of coffee from the silver pot on the low mahogany butler’s table before them, and helped himself to another of the s’mores Addie had prepared. “I can’t deputize all of them, but I can sure tell everyone to keep their eyes open.”
Somewhere out near the barn, Rags barked. Sharp pellets of rain assaulted the windows, and the angry wind shrieked like a thousand banshees. The lights dimmed, then wavered on and off again. Addie pulled her sweater closer around her shoulders.
“This big house chills down quickly. I hope the power doesn’t go off for good.”
“I don’t think it will, but we need to be ready if it does. Maybe you should get out your kerosene lamps and candles.”
Addie went to the pantry next to the kitchen, gathered a kerosene lamp and candles, and returned to the front parlor.
She paused before entering, enjoying the look of comfort her mother had created. The room, a pleasing eclectic mix of contemporary and antique furniture, was quietly elegant in whites and beiges, with accent spots of lemon and emerald. Joe, his back to her, sat on a pale beige chesterfield sofa, its plump, curved back so high that she saw only the top of his head.
The lights went off and the house was dark. With no city lights close by, the blackness outside the windows seemed impenetrable.
“Addie?” yelled Joe. The firelight outlined him standing quickly.
“Don’t panic, Joe. I’m here in the doorway.”
“Stay there. You’ll fall over one of your mom’s little stools.”
“I’m fine. I grew up in this house, remember? The light from the fire is enough to get me across the room safely.”
The lights flickered on, then off again. She held her breath, then laughed as they went on. “See, nothing to worry about.”
Rags’s barking again. Addie wished she could bring him inside, but her mother wouldn’t allow the dog in the house.
She set the kerosene lamp and matches on a table near the front hall, and placed candles around the room. Joe watched her, worry in his earnest brown eyes. Sometimes she wished she’d ended up with Joe, instead of Buck.
Rags bark sounded once more, piercing high and urgent through the whine of the wind.
“Does Rags usually bark like that?”
“He is making a bit of a racket, but he’ll settle down soon,” she said, as she sat next to him again on the big sofa. “I’m sure it’s the storm that’s bothering him.”
“Poor dog. Shame your mom won’t let him in the house. It’s cozy here by the fire.” He grinned with mischief, and winked at her. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if your mom got delayed, and the lights went off for good.”
“Joe Bolo. Are you flirting with me?”
“Yeah, wanna do something about it?”
Rags’s insistent bark came yet again, and Joe put his cup down with a clatter. “Okay, that’s it. Something’s wrong out there. I’m going to check it out.”
“Oh, sit down, Joe. You’re a worry wart,” she said, attempting to reassure him as well as herself.
He ignored her, and headed for the hall where his rain slicker hung on the coatrack. She followed and watched as he slipped into it, and headed out the front door.
“It’s probably nothing, but I’d rather check it out than sit here all evening and worry. Keep the doors locked, and don’t let nobody in but me.” He gave her a wave and shut the door.
Addie usually loved the drama, the audacious blustery show of a good electric storm, but not tonight. Tonight’s tempest increased her nervousness, held notes of portent that she’d rather not hear. On her way back to the warmth of the fire, lightning blazed across the sky, and threatened to explode right through the windows.
She stopped to close the curtains on the bay windows, which looked over the front lawn toward the highway. She turned on the CD player, and nodded with pleasure as Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E Minor filled the room.
Settled on the sofa again, she shucked her shoes, curled her legs under her, and snuggled into its deep comfort, searching for any measure of safety available. Rags’s bark sounded fainter, while the rain pelted noisily against the glass, and small blue and orange starbursts exploded in the fire.
Acutely aware that this was the first time she’d been alone in three days, knots twisted in her abdomen, and her heart skipped erratically. Nothing to be afraid of, Addie Rivers. Joe’s just outside and the doors are locked. Swallowing hard, she tucked herself even closer into the curve of the sofa and its arm.
It’s okay. Everything is fine. Don’t let this monster of a man spook you. Relax, Addie, relax.
In spite of her edginess, exhaustion soon took over. Addie’s head began to nod with fatigue. The last three days had been tiring. She’d been balancing too many physical and emotional balls. Trying to keep the library services going, visiting Jennifer Hatfield’s parents, attending Jennifer’s funeral, consoling her own friends, calming her mother’s fears, had all taken an emotional toll.
The lights went off again. Her stomach knotted, and she jolted upright. Firelight cast sinister shadows on the walls of the dim room.
“Damned if I’ll turn into some witless nervous nellie,” she insisted to herself. The words echoed back to her in the emptiness. Gritting her teeth with determination, she curled up again, and tugged an emerald-colored throw from the back of the sofa over her for warmth.
As her lids closed wearily, she wondered vaguely about the absence of Will Court this evening. He had been in the library every day, but had kept his distance. His
presence in the rear of the library, though out of sight, had added to the stress of the past few days. The effort to restrain herself from casually wandering back to where he worked had taken all of Addie’s will power. In the evenings, by the time she arrived home from her round of consolation visits, and interviews with police, Will had been sequestered in his bedroom.
Rags had stopped barking.
A shadow crossed the light between her and the fire. Her eyes flew open, and she found Will standing near the sofa in front of her. His slouching body cast a shadow over hers. Hands in jeans pockets, strands of dark hair clinging damply to his wet forehead, he watched her.
She sat up quickly, and the throw fell off her shoulders. “You.”
“Sorry, Addie. Didn’t know you were in here. I was going to make myself a snack and sit by the fire. Wanted to give it a good poke before I went to the kitchen. Can’t cook anything now anyway, with the power off. You all alone?”
“Mom’s at - uh, prayer meeting. Joe’s here, our local police chief. Joe Bolo. But he went to find Rags.” Nervousness made her words come in funny starts and stops. “Didn’t you see him?”
“Nope. Parked as close to the house as I could get, and still got drenched.”
“Rags has been barking all evening, and we were worried.”
Self-consciously, she gathered the throw around her shoulders, and set her feet primly on the floor, but her bare toes looked like pale sausage links against the braided rug, and she jerked them back into the fall of the throw. She shivered, whether from nerves, or from the chill of the room, she couldn’t decide, but she couldn’t stop. Clenching her jaws to keep her teeth from clicking, and pressing her heels hard against the rug, she forced herself to sit quietly, to not reveal any emotion.
Ear-splitting thunder shook the house with its clout, but didn’t seem to ruffle Will. He sank to the floor at her feet next to the butler’s table. His navy cable sweater, the same one he’d worn at the library when he kissed her, looked damp on the shoulders. His jacket must have leaked, she thought irrelevantly. His arms rested on his propped-up knees, and his intense gaze seemed to look right into her, inspecting every thought, dream, fear, weakness she’d ever had.
Once in a Blue Moon Page 4
