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  “Nonsense.” She waved her hand through the air, shaking her IV line and causing a little ripple in the bandage holding it in place on her arm. “Ouch!”

  I grabbed her hand and placed it back at her side, then smoothed out the bandage. “See, that’s why I need to be here. To keep an eye on things.”

  “Really, sugar. I don’t want y’all here fussin’ all day. Especially with this bein’ the last day of the expo.”

  Oscar spoke up. “I’d be happy to stay, if you don’t mind, Lila.” He nodded toward Trey. “I’m sure Trey and the rest of my crew can cover for me at the restaurant.”

  Trey shifted. “Yeah. A couple of the other guys are taking care of the prep work. But the lunch crowd’s due soon.”

  “You go on, then, Trey,” Mama said. “And don’t worry none about me. I’m just fine.” She looked my way. “You, too, hon. Head on back with Trey and take care of your business.”

  “I’d be happy to take her home later,” Oscar offered.

  “Not to her home. Bring her by my place,” I insisted. “You’ll stay with me tonight, okay, Mama?”

  “That’s a good idea,” Oscar agreed. “It’ll give me a chance to get the front door replaced at your place, Althea.”

  Mama shook her head. “Listen to you two! There’s no need for—”

  “Either you let Oscar bring you to my house, or I stay here the rest of the afternoon and wait for your discharge, so I can take you there myself,” I said.

  She sighed and shook her head. “Well, then. Guess I’ll be stayin’ at your place tonight.”

  *

  “I’M SURE GLAD Nana’s okay,” Trey said, keeping his eyes on the road as we made our way back to the Valley.

  “That’s for sure,” I said. I’d just called Vicky, letting her know I was on my way back and that Mama was doing fine.

  “I sure was scared when I heard she’d gone to the hospital.”

  I peered across the seat, resisting the urge to reach over and ruffle his hair. “Me, too,” I admitted. “I guess I’m glad Oscar was there to help her.”

  “I know you don’t like him, but you should probably try to give him a chance.”

  “What do you mean by that? I like him.”

  “Come on, Mom. It’s really obvious. I get it. I didn’t like Sean at first, either. Now I think he’s great. And Oscar’s a really good guy. You’ll see. Eventually.”

  I sat back against the seat and looked out the window. I was pretty sure now that Oscar had nothing to do with Chuck Richards’s murder. Sean was right. I’d let my emotions cloud my judgment. Honestly, I wanted to like Oscar. I really did. Maybe once I got to know him better … Suddenly my gaze caught on something. “Hey, turn around up here and head back to Bertram’s, would you?” We’d just passed by the hotel and I’d noticed a sedan with mismatched paint out front. As we pulled into the lot, I got a closer look. It was the car that the crying woman at the funeral had been driving! I pointed it out to Trey, my heart kicking it up a notch. She hadn’t left town yet! “Pull up there. Next to that car with the two-tone paint job.”

  As soon as we parked, one of the hotel’s room doors opened and the woman from the funeral home came out dragging a large suitcase. “That’s her,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

  “Who?” Trey groaned. “I gotta get to work, Mom. It’s lunch hour and—”

  “Just hold on, okay? This is important.” I hopped out and approached the woman. “Hey, there, how are you?”

  She looked up, her lips pressing into a thin white slash.

  “We met yesterday at Chuck’s funeral,” I reminded her.

  “I remember.” She opened her car trunk and loaded her suitcase before moving around to the driver’s side of her car without another word.

  I hurried after her. “You were engaged to Chuck Richards.”

  She stopped short.

  “He had your engagement ring in his pocket when he died,” I added.

  She turned and slumped against the car, folding her arms across her chest. “In his pocket? How do you know that?”

  “I’m the one who found him … after he was … murdered.” I tried to gulp away the tightness in my throat as I thought of this woman driving a nail through someone’s skull.

  She clasped her arms tighter around her midsection and rolled her eyes skyward, blinking several times. Each time her lashes closed, another tear rolled out until thin black lines ran down both cheeks. I was surprised at her sudden show of emotions. Certainly someone who’d committed such a brutal murder wouldn’t be moved to tears like this.

  “Where’s the ring now?” she asked. “I want it.”

  “The police have it.”

  She pushed off the car and started for the driver’s door again. “Fine. I’m outta here.”

  “Wait!” I reached out, snagging her arm.

  “Let go of me!” She ripped out of my grip and started opening her car door.

  “What’s your name? Where are you going?” I called out, trying to get some information, any information, but she ignored me and slammed the car door in my face.

  I took note of her license plate number as she sped off and ran back to Trey’s car to get my phone. “Who was that anyway?” Trey asked, backing the car out.

  “The murdered man’s fiancée,” I explained quickly as I dialed Sean’s cell phone.

  He answered on the second ring. “Lila? Everything okay?”

  I quickly relayed my discovery and gave him her license plate number.

  “Did you get a name?” he asked.

  “No. She wouldn’t tell me. But I now know she was Chuck’s fiancée.” I quickly relayed my conversation with the woman. I also explained my thoughts about the breakin at Makayla’s shop and how I was sure it was the fiancée trying to cover her crime. Then I filled him in on Zach’s discoveries, including how he found out that Chuck and an unnamed woman purchased an engagement ring from Beyond and Back. “Zach said the people at the store didn’t recall the woman’s name. Only that she had brown hair. But maybe one of your guys could question the manager and find out a little more.”

  I heard some paper shuffling in the background. “Uh … sure. I’ll put in a call to the owner at Beyond and Back and see if he remembers anything.”

  “Did you have a chance to check with Rufus Manning about that photo he took?” I pressed. “He was supposed to look up the names of the couple.”

  “Hold for a sec,” he said, covering the phone as he spoke to someone in the background. I waited patiently, watching out the car window, until he came back online, his voice much lower than before. “Sorry. What were you asking me?”

  “About Rufus. Have you been able to contact him?”

  “No one’s been able to reach him by phone yet, but I’ll keep trying. I’d send a guy over, but truth is, my sergeant caught wind of how much time I’ve been putting into this case and he’s not happy.”

  Uh-oh. “Are you in trouble?”

  “Yeah. But he’ll get over it. Eventually.”

  “But you’ll still try to track down the fiancée, right? I mean, it’s got to be her, Sean. You can find her with the license number, right?”

  “I’ll do what I can to locate her and bring her in for questioning. You know that. Right now, though, I’ve gotta run. It’s nuts around here today and I just got called out on another case. I’ll call you later and let you know if we find out anything.”

  If they find out anything, I thought. It didn’t sound very promising, but I could understand Sean’s dilemma. According to his superiors, this case was already wrapped up. Unfortunately, there was never a shortage of crime and Sean’s desk was always overflowing with cases, so it was only natural that this would fall to the bottom of his priority list. If only I could have been able to find out the woman’s name. Still, I did confirm that she was Chuck’s fiancée, so that was something. I flipped over my phone and checked the display again. Still no call from Rufus. That was strange. I did a quick Google sear
ch on my phone and found his office number again. But once again, my call went straight to an answering service. I kicked myself for not getting his cell number. I hated to wait until the expo to find out the fiancée’s name. Who knew how important the information might be to Jodi’s case. I glanced at my watch. I still had a few hours before I was due at the Arts Center—plenty of time to run by the photography studio and see if I could connect with Rufus. That way, I could save Sean the extra manpower—and any more trouble with his sergeant.

  “Trey, would you mind if I used your car to run a couple of errands? I could get it back to you this afternoon.” Certainly one of the other agents would follow me back to the restaurant later so I could return Trey’s car.

  Trey glanced at his dash. “Sure, but I’m getting a little low on gas.” He downshifted and turned off High Street, headed toward Machiavelli’s.

  “Again? I just put gas in yesterday.” I chuckled and this time didn’t refrain from reaching over and ruffling his hair. “Okay, buddy. I get it. I’ll top off the tank for you, okay?” I’d sure been putting a lot of money into his tank lately. “But don’t you be forgetting about that tuition money you owe me,” I added, thinking I’d better keep reminding him or I might never see that money again.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll pay you back. You have my word.” His chin jutted out with determination. “I’m doing well at work. Oscar says I show promise.”

  Promise? Promise was a solid four-year degree and a distinct career path … I stopped myself, thinking back to what Pam had said about following her passion to write mysteries and how I’d followed my own passion and become a literary agent, how Dr. Meyers’s passion had led to a career of helping desperate women and families. Certainly Trey deserved the same opportunity. He’d either sink or swim. Besides, he was young yet, so if he was going to try something like this, it was better now than down the line when he had a family to support. “I’m sure you do show promise,” I started, trying to be positive. “You’ve always been a good cook. You get that from your nana.”

  He pulled up to Machiavelli’s and put the car in gear. “Yeah. I hear stuff like that always skips a generation.” He grinned and hopped out, waving over his shoulder as he sauntered into the restaurant.

  *

  I EASILY REMEMBERED the location of the Dunston Office Plaza from the other day when I dropped Lynn at Dr. Meyers’s office. Only today, the place looked deserted and except for a couple of vehicles, the lot was completely empty. Hopefully, one of the cars belonged to Rufus. I couldn’t shake the fact that Chuck’s fiancée knew more than she was telling me. Whatever she was hiding could be the key to the whole case and the evidence that cleared Jodi. If I could only find out her name, Sean would be able to easily track her down.

  A blast of hot air hit me as I entered the main doors of the office plaza. I scanned the directory on the entryway wall and found that Rufus Manning Photography was on the second floor, suite 201. My footsteps echoed on the tile as I headed for the staircase. On the way, I saw a sign marking the entrance for Dr. Meyers’s office. I noticed it was tucked toward the rear of the building and near the back entrance, making it easy, I supposed, for clients to come and go discreetly without walking past the other offices.

  Upstairs, I found the main door to Rufus’s studio open. A good sign. Maybe I’d get that information after all. “Rufus,” I called out. The reception area was empty, so I ventured down the hall toward what looked like a couple of smaller rooms. Offices probably. “Rufus. It’s me, Lila.”

  “Hello?” I called out, knocking on the first door. No one answered, but I heard some shuffling noises. I pushed the door open. “Rufus?”

  It wasn’t Rufus in the office, but Dr. Meyers. She was standing near a desk, a manila file in her hands. “Dr. Meyers?” My eyes took in her startled expression, the clutched file. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  She gripped the file tighter, her eyes darting to the door behind me. “Just stopped by to pick up some pictures Rufus took for me. He told me I could just come in and get them.” She started to push by me. “But I better get going. I have a client coming in for an appointment. See you this afternoon, Lila.”

  I maneuvered to block her way, stealing a quick glance at the folder. The label read Richards. “Why do you have Chuck Richards’s file?”

  She tried to sidestep me. “Just let me by, Lila.”

  I strengthened my stance. “Did you know Chuck?”

  She started to push past me, but I stood firm. “Let me by, Lila,” she hissed. “I’m going to be late for my appointment.”

  “Not until you answer a couple of my questions.” I reached for the file, my fingertips gripping the edge. “Why are you stealing this file? What’s in it that you’re trying to hide?”

  She pulled back, but I gripped tighter and yanked on the file, tearing part of it out of her hand. A piece of paper fluttered to the carpet. I bent down and snatched it up, squinting at the print. It was a receipt for a photography package for Chuck Richards and Amanda Meyers. Amanda Meyers? “Amanda Meyers?” I asked out loud. An image of Chuck’s fiancée popped into my mind—her eyes, the way her nose tipped at the end. Now that I thought about it, there was a resemblance. “Your daughter,” I concluded.

  Dr. Meyers took a couple of steps backward, her back pressing against the desk and her head shaking slowly. “Yes. My daughter. Can you believe it? It’s been my life’s passion to empower women to fight against the atrocities of domestic violence and here my own daughter was going to marry a man who”—her face twisted with hate and scorn—“a man who hit her.”

  Something slowly came back to me: The day of the murder, when I needed someone to give me a break, I flagged down Franklin. He’d mentioned that he was looking for Dr. Meyers. Why was he looking for her? She should have been at her booth … “You killed Chuck.” The words slid out of my mouth, more of a realization than an accusation.

  “I had to. Can’t you see that?” Her eyes took on a wild look, her normally cool, controlled expression gone as her face flushed. “She wouldn’t stay away from him. It was sick. He’d hit her and then come back all apologetic and everything and she’d forgive him. Take him back. I see it all the time with the women I counsel, but my own daughter … It made me sick. Then she came home one day, all happy and gushing over some piece of junk engagement ring he bought her. She was sure he’d changed. She kept telling me how happy they’d be. Then it happened again. This time he beat her so badly she ended up in the hospital. I was able to get to her then. I convinced her to give the ring back and leave him. Even set her up in another state, helped her find a job … I did everything I could to try to help her.”

  “But she went back to him.”

  Dr. Meyers nodded slowly. “He found her. Hunted her down like a wounded animal. Wouldn’t leave her alone. Eventually she started talking to him again. Again, he convinced her that he’d changed. But I knew better. Men like him never change.”

  I remembered that first day at the Magnolia Bed and Breakfast, when Chuck told Cora he needed to finish the job because he was getting ready to go on a trip. “He was getting ready to meet Amanda somewhere, wasn’t he?” I asked. “He was taking the ring back to her.”

  Dr. Meyers nodded. “They were going to meet in Raleigh and elope. So, you see, I had no choice. Certainly as a mother, you can understand.” Her voice was level, her expression calm again as if the logic of it excused her actions.

  There was no way I could stand by and let someone hurt Trey, so I could almost understand Dr. Meyers’s being pushed to murder, except for one thing. “But you didn’t just kill Chuck; you set up someone else for your crime.”

  “I know. I know. But I’m not going to let Jodi stay in jail. I just need to divert the police long enough until I can leave the country. I plan to go to Indonesia. There’s a clinic down there offering me a position on staff. After I’m settled and sure I can’t be extradited, I’m going to call and confess. Make sure Jodi is freed from
prison. Once Amanda gets over Chuck, she’ll join me. We can both start over together.”

  Her use of present tense gave me shivers—how could she still think she could get away with this? Did she really think that since we were both mothers, I’d simply understand and excuse her actions? I had to keep her talking. Maybe convince her to turn herself in to the authorities. “What about the nail gun? How did you—”

  “That was the easy part,” she said, interrupting me, her mood lighter, as if pleased with the plan she’d laid and sure that I was going to stand by and go along with it. “Smuggling it in was easy. I just carried it in my bag.”

  “Does Amanda know you killed her fiancé?”

  “No. Of course not.” Now she wiped a bead of sweat from her top lip, her mood vacillating yet again. “Maybe she suspects it. I don’t know. I haven’t been able to reach her since Tuesday.”

  “She was here this week. I met her at the funeral.”

  “Here? In Dunston?” Her face paled.

  “Yes. She was staying at Bertram’s. I saw her again this morning, right before she left town.”

  Dr. Meyers gripped the side of the desk to steady herself. “I didn’t know. She … must not want to see me.”

  I noticed her fortitude wavering, her eyes growing wide with … ? What? Regret? I stepped a little closer, reaching toward her. “Why don’t we go together to the police station? You could explain—”

  The sound of merry whistling drew both of our gazes toward the office door. Suddenly, Rufus appeared, his arms laden with a couple of brown bags stuffed full of office supplies. “Dr. Meyers? Lila? What are you two doing here?”

  “Your door was open and—” I automatically started to explain, then stopped abruptly as the reality of the situation hit me: I came in to question him about a photo to help solve a murder case and found Dr. Meyers stealing one of his files. And confessing to that murder.

  “That’s fine. Glad you caught me. I just ran across the street to pick up a few …” His voice trailed off as his eyes focused on the torn file in Dr. Meyers’s arms. He stepped forward, until he was just inches away from us, his ruddy complexion growing redder by the second. “Hey. What’s going on here?”