“Are you going to argue with an injured person?” Flea asked, grinning. “Look, the reunion is a perfect place to find a whole bunch of people who don't like the fact that our Lizzie is marrying Dylan Dunhill.”
“Great,” Lizzie said, flopping down on her bed. “All the more reason to go. I can't wait to walk into a room with a group of people who hate me and wish me a lifetime of unhappiness.”
“Screw 'em,” Gayle said. “And it's not a group of people, it's just one loser.”
“Actually,” Holly said, “we don't know that. It could be more than one person. Two, or even a group.”
“Even better!” Lizzie said, slapping her hand over her forehead.
Holly sat down next to Lizzie and held her hand. “Honey, the last thing I want is for you to be in danger's way. But with Dylan and Jake and the security team watching, I'm comfortable with the safety factor.”
“And what more likely place for the culprit to strike,” Gayle put in, “than at the high school reunion.”
“And when they do,” Flea said, “Dylan and Jake will be there to catch them.”
Lizzie shot up. “Oh, God. What if Dylan or Jake gets hurt?” She dropped back down and covered her hands with her face. “This is too much. There's too much danger. Too much at stake.”
“The only way to catch this ... this person or people,” Flea said, “is to hunt them down. “I think Jake's rightâhe's going to find this monster among us. Whether it's at the reunion, the engagement party, or walking down the street.”
“That's so scary,” Holly said.
“We'll get him. Her. Them. Whoever,” Gayle put in. “Jake is a great private investigator.”
“That's true,” Lizzie said. “With Jake on the case, I do feel a lot better. Safer.”
“He's such a good person, too,” Flea said. “It was so nice of him to come by the hospital and see how I was doing. And he stopped by my house twice in the past week. If anyone can find out who's behind what's been happening, it's Jake Boone.”
I hope so,
Holly thought.
Because I sure don't know how to go about this
. She stood and walked over to the window. Was the culprit out there right now? Watching? Listening?
Holly shivered and closed the window.
“I still can't understand how it's possible that our psycho left no clues any of the times he or she has struck,” Holly said, sitting down next to Flea. “In movies, even the most careful criminals mess up and leave clues.”
“Perhaps tonight,” Lizzie said, “at the reunion, he or she will do or say something that will incriminate them. We all have to be on high alert.”
“It's like, on one hand, you want them to do something so that we can catch them,” Holly said. “But on the other, you want to feel safe.”
“I think I've forgotten what it feels like to feel safe,” Lizzie said. “I just want to stay home with Flea.”
“Because that's the
safe
thing to do,” Flea said. “But it's not the
right
thing to do. Not for your future. You've got to let Dylan and Jake catch this person. And the best way to do that is to go about your business and not be stopped from living your life!”
“You are absolutely right, Flea,” Holly said. “I want my dear cousin safe, too, but you're right.”
Lizzie sat up. “Great. First I have a madman after me and now I have to help catch him.” She offered a weak smile. “I know you're right, Flea. But you're sureâabout us going to the reunion without you?”
Flea nodded her head. “Absolutely. Besides, you know I hate parties. I'm way too shy.”
“If we're going, we'd better start getting ready,” Gayle said. “The reunion starts in forty-five minutes.”
“I didn't bring anything fancy,” Holly said. “I did bring a pantsuit I could wear.”
“Let me guess,” Lizzie said with a smile. “Beige?”
“Beige is classic,” Holly said. “Goes with everything.”
“Except for a good time,” Lizzie responded with a laugh. “Beige and fun definitely don't mix.”
Flea laughed. “She's got you there.”
Gayle was still in Lizzie's closet. “Oh, Holly, I would love to see you in thisâwith your wonderful brown hair and blue eyes, a pale pink would be so dramatic on you, yet feminineâor ... what about this!” She pulled a long, red silky dress from the closet. “Liz, what do you think?”
“That would look so great on you, Holly!” Lizzie said. “Try it onâpretty please?”
“It is pretty,” Holly said, running a hand down the floaty material. It's so soft. And the color is beautiful.”
Lizzie shooed Holly behind her old-fashioned dressing screen. “Chop-chop, Cousin. You've only got a half hour!”
Holly took off her dress slacks and blouse and slipped on the dress. It fit perfectly, skimming over her body. It felt like heaven against her skin.
“Does it fit?” Gayle called.
“Perfectly!” Holly said. “Lizzie, could I borrow a pair of shoes? I don't think my sensible beige, one-inch heels are going to cut it with this dress.”
A pair of three-inch-high red sandals appeared in a hand behind the screen.
Holly laughed and slipped her feet into the shoes. Luckily, she and her cousin were the same size.
“Come on out,” Flea said. “We want to see!”
Holly stepped out to a collective gasp.
“You look so beautiful!” Lizzie breathed. “Oh, Holly, you look like a princess!”
“You do,” Gayle said. “Red is definitely your color.”
“Just beautiful, Holly,” Flea said, smiling sweetly. “It's a really lovely dress. Not one of mine, but lovely nonetheless.” She laughed. “All right, girls, you'd better all get ready or you'll be late.”
In moments, Gayle and Lizzie removed their dress bags from Lizzie's closet and shimmied into their dresses.
Lizzie flopped down on her bed next to Flea. “I feel awful about this. Here I am, getting all gussied up for a party, and one of my best friends is holed up here, with a bandage on her head. I won't go.”
“Lizzie Morrow,” Flea scolded. “We've been through this. You're going and that's that. Besides, you look way too beautiful to stay home.”
“You do, Lizzie,” Holly seconded. Lizzie wore a long silky dress, royal blue, with a large royal blue flower on one strap.
“I can't get over how stunning you look, Holly,” Lizzie said. “This dress says, âJake Boone, you will not be able to take your eyes off me!'”
“Lizzie!” Holly said, her cheeks flaming. “I do not want Jake Boone's eyes on me! Not that I think they're on me in the first place. In fact, quite the opposite.”
“So you're not attracted to him,” Lizzie stated. “Not at all.”
“No,” Holly said. “Not one bit.”
“Liar,” Lizzie singsonged. “I know you, Holly Morrow. And I know when you're very interested.”
Holly hoped that didn't mean she was transparent. Could Jake tell she was attracted to him? He hadn't known when they were teenagers and neither had Lizzie, so clearly she wasn't that transparent.
“I saw the way you looked at him when he was here earlier this week questioning Flea,” Lizzie said. “And I knew you were in love with him in high school.”
She turned beet red. “I wasn't looking at him in any way,” Holly lied.
Actually, she'd been unable to take her eyes off him. He looked so handsome, so ... masculine. So...
She closed her eyes and pictured him, his face, his strong shoulders.
“Oh, yes, you were,” Lizzie said with a smile. “And I know you loved him in high school. You didn't want to, because you wanted nothing to stop you from leaving Troutville. But you did love him. You think you could hide something like that from your cousin? I knew it, Hol.”
“Me, too,” Flea piped up from the bed. “And Gayle, too.”
Holly bit her lip. “Iâ”
“We understood,” Lizzie said. “You desperately wanted to leave Troutville. That was your dream. If you'd given in to your feelings for Jake, you might not have left.”
“It was for the best that he heard what you said on prom night, Holly,” Flea said. “Or he might have followed you wherever you were going, when it was his dream to stay in Troutville and prove everyone wrong about him.”
“Followed me?” Holly asked. “Why would he have followed me?”
“Because he was in love with you,” Flea said. “Madly.”
“What?” Holly shouted. “Jake Boone was in love with me?”
Lizzie nodded. “Anyone could see it.”
“Except me,” Holly said quietly.
“Sometimes we see what we want to see,” Flea said. “If you did acknowledge his feelings for you and yours for him, you would have ruined both of your dreams.”
“But their real dream was to be together,” Lizzie pointed out. “Wasn't it?”
“At the time, all I wanted was to leave,” Holly said. “I'm ashamed of that now, but at eighteen, that was what was burning in my heart.”
“Well, you're both adults now. And what happened was a long time ago,” Lizzie pointed out.
“He hates me,” Holly said. “He hated me on prom night and he hates me still.”
“He doesn't hate you!” Lizzie said. “Right, Flea? You were there that nightâwas it hate you saw in his eyes? Or a broken heart?”
Holly glanced at Flea, who could be counted on to always tell the truth, even when it might hurt.
Flea said nothing for a few moments.
“Flea?” Holly asked.
“I don't know,” Flea said. “He was very angry that night. But he was so young then.”
Holly took a deep breath and glanced down at herself. “I think I'd better change. I'd be more comfortable in my pantsuit.”
“You're wearing this dress whether you like it or not, Hol,” Lizzie said. “If I have to take this fuchsia lipstick and draw on your pantsuit, I will.”
“You would not,” Holly said.
“Oh, but I would,” Lizzie said with a devilish smile. “You'll forgive me eventually since it's a good causeâyour love life.” Lizzie waved the lipstick, then pointed it at Holly. “What's it going to be?”
Holly caved. “You win.”
“I wish there was time for a pedicure for you, Holly,” Flea said. “Those shoes are screaming for a hot red pedicure.”
Holly smiled. “Three-inch heels
and
a pedicure? One is enough for one night.”
Miss Ellie would sure enjoy seeing Holly in shoes like this.
Would Jake?
she wondered.
What am I thinking about?
she scolded herself.
The man doesn't even want to work with me on the case; he's not the least bit interested in me as a woman. Perhaps he was, once, as Lizzie and Flea insist. But he isn't now. I can see it in the way he barely looks at me.
She wondered why he didn't want to work with her, what his cryptic reason was. If not because of the past, then what?
You're now an amateur detective,
she told herself.
And you have all of tonight to try to figure it out.
If she didn't fall flat on her face in these skyscraper heels.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jake surveyed the crowd in the ballroom of the Troutville Plaza Hotel. He'd spent the past few days researching his former classmates, especially those who still lived in Troutville. Of a class of two hundred nineteen students, seventy-six made their homes in Troutville.
He'd easily narrowed down the group of those who'd stayed in town to those who'd had anything to do with either Lizzie or Dylan. He focused on those who were romantically linked, romantically interested, or were known to dislike either Lizzie or Dylan. Eighteen former classmates (due to Dylan's popularity and Lizzie's undeserved reputation) came to light. Of those, five were attending the reunion.
Jake scanned his list. Prudence Dunhill. Arianna Miller. Corey Forge. Bobby Jones. Elissa Erikson.
Pru fell into the “disliked Lizzie” category. Arianna had dated Dylan during high school and still held a well-known torch for him. Corey Forge had dated Lizzie in high school as well and was devastated when she broke up with him, a fact Jake was privy to because he and Corey had both worked after school at Mott's Supermarket, and Corey talked nonstop about how Lizzie had done him wrong.
Jake smiled at the memory. Back then, he used to think,
Hey, at least you got to date the love of your teenage life.
Holly would come in to pick up groceries for her parents or for Lizzie's (Lizzie refused to enter Mott's because Corey would start serenading her with heartbreak songs at the top of his lungs), and Jake would act as nonchalant as he could. After all, Holly was his best friend, but inside he'd be shaking, his knees trembling, his senses on overdrive.
Corey Forge was now the chief mechanic at Troutville's best garage, and Jake had kept up a casual friendship with him. The man was always shaking his head about the many women he dated in his quest to find Ms. Right, how none measured up to the ideal he had in his head.
Lizzie?
Was Corey so enamored of Lizzie and so jealous of her engagement to Dylan that he'd gone over the edge?
Bobby Jones. Jake shook his head at the thought of the lumbering, loud Up Hill boy. Bobby had been crazy about Arianna Miller. But Arianna only had eyes for Dylan. And more than once, Bobby had picked a fight with Dylanâand lost.
Bobby was a “real piece of work,” as Jake's grandmother used to say. He was a boasterâand his boasting often included the girls with whom he'd been intimately involved. In high school, Bobby would keep a running list in a particular stall of the second-floor bathroom. Almost every day he'd add another conquest. Holly, Lizzie, and Gayle were always on his list. Sometimes Holly would appear twice in the same dayâon a day when she wasn't even in school or a night when she'd been staying with her grandmother, who used to live three towns over. Every day Jake would cross out the names with black magic marker.
Once, for an entire school day, Bobby and his posse of idiots had taken turns waiting in the next stall to see who was x-ing out the list. The second the stall door opened and the hapless Jake came out to wash his hands, he was grabbed while the thug looked to see if the name added that morning was still there.
Jake was caught four times and punched in the stomach four times. Twice, Bobby had jumped him after school and threatened to kill him if he ever “messed with my list of sluts” again. “Go ahead and kill me,” Jake had yelled back, spitting blood from his injured mouth at Bobby's retreating back.
Jake had gone on x-ing out names and Bobby had gone on jumping him. Sometimes Bobby won the fight; sometimes Jake did. Once, in the middle of a fight in the grassy field behind the school, Bobby said, “I want you to know I respect what you're doing, but I still have to kick your ass.” Jake had replied, “I want you to know I think you're the biggest loser there ever was.” And so the fights continued.
The fights would have continued past high school had Jake not become a cop. Jake would walk past him in town, pat his holster, nod with a “Fine day, isn't it, Bob?” and keep going. Bobby never so much as littered in his presence. A typical bully, he quickly backed down in the face of real authority.
As for Troutville High suspect number five, Elissa Erikson was one of Arianna and Pru's friends. She was neither romantically linked to Dylan nor known for disliking anyoneâshe'd actually been known as the “nice” one, but she was a friend and potential ally of Arianna and Pru, here for the weekend, and therefore, worth watching.
The hotel ballroom began filling up with a chorus of, “It's so-and-so!” and “You look exactly the same!”
“Same old posing jerk,” said a male voice.
Jake turned to find Corey Forge, in a suit jacket and jeans, rolling his eyes at Dylan, who had just walked in with Lizzie on his arm.
You could hear a pin drop.
Jake glanced around; all eyes were on the couple.
But Jake's eyes were on the woman who'd entered behind Lizzie and Dylan. A beautiful woman in a red dress, her shiny brown hair flowing to her shoulders.
Oh, Holly,
he thought.
How is it possible that you still have this effect on me?
“Now there's the original odd couple,” Corey chortled, upping his chin at Dylan and Lizzie. “Those two? Please. Nothing in common. He's getting great sex, she's getting jewelry and fancy dinners. That's what it's all about.”
“Sorry, Corey,” Jake said, “but I think Dylan and Lizzie are the real deal.”
He snorted. “I know the real dealâI've got it myself. I finally found myself the dream woman I've been looking for all my life.” He waved over a redhead heading their way with two glasses of wine. “Gina, come meet an old buddyâJake Boone. We used to work at Mott's together and ...”
As Corey went on and on without a breath, his dream woman listening intently to every word, smiling and nodding, Jake looked around for Bobby and Erika.
“We're here, everyone! The party can begin! Whoo-hoo!”
Pru, Arianna and Erika had arrived. The three women elbowed their way onto the center of the dance floor and took over. There was a chorus of, “Omigod, it's Pru! It's Arianna. It's Erika! You look so beautiful. You haven't changed a bit!”
Pru and Arianna certainly hadn't. Pru grabbed Erika by the arm and pulled her over to whisper something in her ear. Erika grimaced and yanked away. Pru angrily pulled her over again, and Erika shoved herâright into the woman behind her.
Suddenly there was a fight breaking out.
Jake shook his head. Just figured. But before he could blink, the three women were hugging and laughing and dancing again.
“Good thing I wasn't on the dance floor just then. I would have been history in these shoes.”
Jake turned to find Holly checking out her high-heeled strappy sandals. God, even her feet were beautiful.
“You look very nice,” he said in the understatement of the century. “I'm glad you came.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I suppose I'm supposed to say âme, too' to being glad I came, but I'll have to reserve judgment on that.”
“How does it feel to be here?” he asked.
“Odd. It's strange to see the same faces, well, ten years older, but to feel so removed from it all. Do you remember the holiday dance we all went to junior year?”
Jake would never forget it. He, Holly, Corey, Lizzie, Gayle and her date, and Felicia had all gone together in a group. That night had been over a decade ago, and he still remembered it so clearly. Remembered the white dress with the little pink roses that Holly had worn, the way her hair had smelled. And he remembered the name-calling and the fights, which had started moments after they'd walked in.
“Look, it's Lay Me Lizzie, Holly the Whore, the Fleabag, and Good Time Gayle!” Arianna had shouted. “Guys, start lining up!”
There had been laughter and a race as a bunch of boys ran to form a line. There were even mock fights about who was first in line.
“No, you drew the shortest straw so you get stuck with the Fleabag!” someone had called out.
“Hey, just stick a bag over her headâhell, her whole body except for the good partsâand she's like any other girl!” another boy yelled.
More laughter.
The four girls and their friends, stunned and frozen in place, stood in their unwanted spotlight like the clichéd deer in the headlights, until Felicia had run out. Lizzie had screamed, “I hate you all!” Gayle had yelled, “Go to hell!” at the boys forming their line.
And Jake had been powerless to do anything. So he did what he always did back then. He ran into the crowd of boys, fists swinging, joined by Corey and Gayle's date, a guy who'd joined the army and then moved away, and one or two other Down Hill boys. And as usual, they took a beating.
Dylan Dunhill had never been part of the jeering, leering, fighting crowd. He had been at the dance; Jake remembered noticing him dancing with Arianna, his girlfriend at the time, just before Lizzie and company had walked in. After Arianna's outburst, Dylan had whispered something in her ear and then left, and then the fight had started and Jake had lost track of Dylan.
He imagined Dylan berating Arianna for her cruelty and leaving in protest. That was the Dylan he knew now. Back then, though, he figured Dylan had told Arianna to meet him outside for a backseat ride.
That night had been one of the worst. It was the last time he and Holly had ever attended a Troutville High dance; it had taken a lot of convincing on his part to get her to go to the senior prom. And then she herself killed that night.
He looked at her now and didn't know how to process all that had happened. On one hand, the past was complicated, so complicated in how children and adolescents internalized the external when forming identity, and he wanted to wrap Holly in his arms and tell her they should forget it all and start over as adults. They were the best of friends once; they should be the best of lovers now.
But he himself had internalized too much.
Someone tapping a microphone shook Jake from the past. “Welcome to our reunion!” said Michael Donner, who had been class president. “It's so wonderful to see so many familiar faces ...” As Michael went on, reading off a list of names of those attending, there were claps and snickers. At the mention that two of their class had recently gotten engaged, two of the least likely, Michael gleefully announced, the crowd buzzed with anticipation. Finally, he said, “Okay, folks, I won't keep you in suspense a moment longer. It's Dylan Dunhill, football star, prom king and most popular, and Lizzie Morrow!”
Dylan took that moment to dip Lizzie with a major kiss.
There were gasps and shrieks and “Oh, my Gods.” But most people, Jake noted, couldn't care less. They went back to talking and eyeing name tags. Of course, there were a few who couldn't leave the topic alone.
“My brother, the philanthropist,” he heard Pru Dunhill say with a snicker. “He feels bad for the underdog. Trust me, when he sees what a scheming opportunist Lizzie Morrow really is, he'll dump her. My brother won't marry that slut.”
Gayle, who was standing right next to Pru, gasped. Loud enough that Pru stopped talking and looked at her.
“Oops, did you hear that?” Pru asked, feigning concern before she giggled.
Holly glanced over at where Lizzie and Dylan were talking with a group of people. Jake could tell that Holly was relieved that Lizzie hadn't heard what Pru said.
“I think you need to get a life,” Gayle responded. “Normally, I wouldn't waste my breath trading childish insults with you, but you really need to get a life.”
Pru's expression darkenedâfor just a secondâand then she laughed. “Pigs will fly before Good Time Gayle could possibly insult me.”
Gayle shook her head. “You're sad. Sad and pathetic. And not worth my time or energy.”
“Gayle, you're absolutely right,” Holly said, stepping up beside her.
“Why don't I get both of you a glass of wine,” Jake said to Gayle and Holly. He shot Pru a look and saw her stiffen; it was a tiny movement, that was how in control of herself Pru was. But he could see that Gayle had stung her. Pru wasn't used to being told off, and he knew she'd respond as though she hadn't even heard Gayle. But what Gayle said would bother her very muchâmore so because she'd said it in front of him. Tomorrow, if you asked Pru Dunhill if she and Gayle Green had exchanged words at the reunion, Pru could very well say no and believe it. She tended to do thatâcompletely block out “unpleasantness,” even when she started it. Jake had seen her do it once before, when a friend of hers had made a flip comment about her father's affairs. “My father never had an affair,” Pru had said very seriously. The next day, when Jake had run into Pru in the coffee lounge and said that she shouldn't let gossip get to her, because it was just that, gossip, Pru said she had no idea what he was talking about.
There was a possibility that Pru Dunhill was behind the attacks on Lizzie and her friends. A possibility that she quite conveniently blocked out her behavior, too. Still, Jake didn't think so. Pru had always been a very straight shooter. She was a little crazy, but he wouldn't bet money that she was their girl.