“I’ll remember that.” Paradise’s phone sounded with a text, and she picked it up. “It’s Blake. He’s still at the grocery store and wants to know what’s for dessert.”
Jenna chuckled. “Tell him to bring home ice cream and I’ll make apple pie. Frank is coming over too.”
Paradise typed a quick message back. “I’m going to need all your recipes. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” She lifted the phone. “And his text just proved it.”
“You don’t have to worry. You’ve had the key to Blake’s heart since he was sixteen.” Jenna stood. “I’d better get started on that pie.” When Paradise started to join her, she held up her hand. “You have time to learn the recipe. See if there’s anything important in that diary. If nothing else it’s a trip down memory lane with your parents.”
Maybe that’s what Paradise was afraid of. She picked up the diary and opened the latch, then flipped through the pages. Most of them were mundane gushings of her eight-year-old self. She lingered over the details of her ninth birthday party and smiled when she remembered Abby at that age. How amazing that they were still friends. Her pulse rose as the date grew closer to the murders.
A dried leaf marked the spot of the page dated January 25, 2005, and her mouth went dry as she read her childish handwriting.
I saw a yellow car outside when I came home from school. I asked Mommy who was here, and she said no one. Sheran to the door to see the car and went outside. She asked me if a woman was driving it. I didn’t see. She said maybe it was Pam. I don’t know anyone named Pam. I don’t know why she is mad.
Paradise tried to remember that day and the car, but she couldn’t. Had the yellow car been the missing Barracuda? If that car had been parked in front of their house, who had driven it? Maybe whoever had killed Ben had come straight here to kill Mom. She flipped to the next page, February 2, the day of the murders.
I love my music box. Mommy is mad I got it though. She asked if I saw the car bring it. I didn’t see anyone bring it, but the cable guy said it was on the porch. Why does she keep talking about the yellow car? I don’t know why she yelled. I didn’t steal it.
The music box had shown up a second time as a way to rattle her when Roger Dillard was trying to coerce Jenna to sell the property, but they’d never addressed where it had come from in the first place. Just who had left it on the doorstep the day of the murders? Someone had known she lovedThe Phantom of the Opera. That narrowed the possible pool to family and a couple of friends.
She fingered the pages of the diary and forced herself to turn to the next one, the final entry. It was dated the day of the murders as well.
Mommy said sorry. She said it didn’t matter who left it. It was nice. I wish I could say thank you though. Butshe looked scared. Why would she be scared? It’s just a music box.
Unease rippled down her back. Had her mother feared the killer had left it? It wouldn’t have been unusual for her to mention to Ben that her daughter lovedThe Phantom of the Opera.Maybe someone close to Ben had left it. Paradise rubbed her head. Maybe she was seeing connections that didn’t exist.
Chapter 24
The next morning Blake parked on the street in front of Bea’s house. “Who’s taking the lead on this one?”
“I am,” Drew said from the back seat. “This shouldn’t take long. We just want to know if the sheriff ever saw that yellow car the week before the murders.”
Paradise twisted around in the front seat to face her brother. “Be gentle with her, Drew. She was terrified when we were here last.”
“I’ll be kind. We aren’t accusing her of anything—we need to know more about that yellow car. I suspect our mother might have called Gerald.” Drew shoved open the door and got out of the truck.
Blake followed him and Paradise to the front door. Drew started to press the doorbell, then dropped his hand. “The door is ajar. Maybe she’s outside.”
“Go ahead and ring the bell. Maybe she didn’t get it latched when she came in,” Paradise said.
Drew pressed the button and the chime inside pealed. He sniffed the air. “It smells like burning bacon.” He pushed thedoor open with his foot. “Don’t touch the doorjamb or anything else.” He poked his head inside. “Mrs. Davis? It’s Detective Bartley, Paradise’s brother.” There was no answer, and he stepped through into the foyer. “Stay here. I think something is wrong.”
“I’m a paramedic,” Blake reminded him. “If she’s been injured I can help.” Without waiting for an answer, he followed Drew inside. He knew not to waste his breath telling Paradise to stay behind.
Black smoke billowed from the kitchen, and he coughed at the stench of burned bacon. Drew ran toward the kitchen with Blake on his heels. Flames erupted from an iron skillet, and Blake looked under the sink for a fire extinguisher. Paradise grabbed a hand towel and held it to her face. He could barely see her through the smoke.
He spotted the extinguisher behind the cleaning supplies and pulled it out. “Stand back.”
Drew stepped away, and Blake aimed the nozzle at the fire. He had it out in less than a minute. Paradise went to the window and shoved it open. The smoke began to dissipate.
“Bea?” Paradise called.
“Stay near us,” Drew said. “I don’t like this. We’d better call it in.”
Paradise pulled out her phone. “I’ll call Rod.” She turned her back to the men and placed the call.
Blake listened to her explain the situation to Rod as he poked around in the kitchen and dining room. “Maybe she’s outside and forgot the bacon.”
“Maybe.” Drew didn’t sound convinced. “I’ll check the garage and see if her car is here.” He went to the door on the other side of the dining room and peered into the garage. “Her car’s there.” He disappeared through the doorway and came back afew moments later. “No one’s in the car and the garage door is down.” He shut the door. “I’ll check outside while you take the bedrooms and bathroom.”
