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“Well, don’t.” She was all business. “We’ve got something going down here and I think you’ll want to check it out.”
“What? And down where?”
“Homicide. At least it looks like that. In Hillside Acres, on Bonaventure Boulevard, at the end of the cul-de-sac.”
Hillside Acres was a development that had never been annexed to the city.
Kayleigh told him the address and added, “I know it’s not your jurisdiction, but I thought you’d want in.” He was already out of his chair and reaching for his jacket.
“The victim is a woman. Violet Sperry. Husband was out of town, came home early and found her in the foyer. ME’s already here and they’ll be packing her up soon, so you’d better get over here.”
“Jesus. I know her.”
“Knew,” Kayleigh corrected.
“Yeah. Right. Knew. She went to school with Rachel.”
“And everyone else in town, I gather.”
“Yeah. I’m on my way.” He clicked off and headed down the short hallway and through the tiny break area to the back door. It was starting to rain, the wind kicking up, and as he drove out of town he caught a glimpse of the river, white caps roiling as if it were November instead of May.
Someone had killed Violet Sperry? Why? He didn’t know much about her, other than she’d been in Rachel’s loose group of high school friends and had testified during the trial. She and Rach weren’t close, as far as he knew, even though Violet, like so many others, had settled in Edgewater. He drove past the high school on his way out of town, thought about his kids for a second and his own misspent youth for another couple of beats before passing the old cannery where Luke Hollander, another victim of homicide, had died. Cade, a couple of years older and in college at the time, hadn’t been involved in the tragedy that night, but both his younger brother, Court, and, of course, Rachel, had been there. Rachel had even been charged with her slain brother’s murder.
Even she believed it.
At least they’d reduced the charge to negligent manslaughter, but even that crime had been washed from her record, the judge citing her age, disorientation, and conflicting testimony of everyone who had been there.
Had she done it?
Made a mistake and killed the half brother she’d looked up to?
Cade wasn’t certain, but as the sprawling, ramshackle building disappeared in his rearview he wondered if some of the rumors had been true, the most damning being that Rachel’s father, a detective who’d been the first responder, had hidden evidence or at the very least had been negligent at the scene in an effort to save his daughter.
A mystery, to be sure.
And one never completely solved.
He thought of the article in the paper, written by a woman who had been at the crime scene that night. Why would she dredge it all up again? Was it just a case of bringing a sensational crime back into the spotlight?
A sensational, unsolved crime.
That wasn’t exactly true, he thought, flipping his wipers to a higher speed as the storm increased. Though the case hadn’t been officially closed, it wasn’t exactly open, either. Maybe cold was the right way to describe it. Ice cold.
* * *
On the way to school, Rachel brought up the reunion meeting.
Surprisingly her son actually heard her. “Wait . . . we have to go?” he asked from the back seat. For the first time he showed some interest in the conversation and pulled one earbud from his ear.
“Yeah. It’s at Lila’s house.” Even after all these years she could not refer to Lila as her kids’ grandmother. It just felt wrong.
“Stepgrandmama,” Harper said, needling her mother. Then, “Will Lucas be there?” Harper was gazing out the passenger-side window, running her finger along the glass.
“I don’t know. Probably.” Lucas had yet to move out of the historic house on the hill owned by his stepfather, the home where Cade and his brothers had grown up. The place where their mother had died.
“Good.” Lately Harper had taken more of an interest in her older cousin. They’d been closer as younger kids, drifted apart during Harper’s time in junior high, but now, with Lucas attending the local community college, and Harper in high school, they had connected again, which Rachel saw as a good thing. Harper, starting at the end of her sophomore year, had started drifting. Her grades had slipped, but just a little, and her circle of friends had changed. Lately it seemed as if she’d been harboring secrets and that was a worry. As for Dylan . . . who knew? He’d become a mystery to Rachel.
As she’d become to her own parents at that age.
