Kate rubbed her arms, chilled by the vivid reminder. Jason had looked so young by the time shed been able to see his body at the viewing. With every care and stress wiped from his face, he might have been a sleeping child again.
When she didnt speak, Whiting frowned at her with a look of frustration. Werent you satisfied with the coroners findings? Is that it?
No. She could hear the reluctance in her voice. Shed like to argue, but she couldnt. Jason had died of a combination of powerful prescription painkillers and alcohol. It was only too likely. But it didnt answer the important question. It didnt tell her why.
Ms. Beaumont? Whitings voice had gentled, and he reached toward her tentatively. Im sorry. I wish it had been different.
He sounded convincing, but she wasnt going to take anything at face value here.
Yes. Different. If shed come before, if shed known or even guessed... But there was no point in going down that road again.
When I spoke to you earlier, at the cemetery he paused did you want to see the place? Is that why youre here in Laurel Ridge?
Whiting was bound to ask that question, of course. And shed have to answer him, but she wasnt about to trust him with the real reason she was here. He would, inevitably, be on the side of his town, his people.
Im taking some time off before I start looking for a new job. That, at least, was more or less true. The Baltimore paper that had employed her suffered, as most print papers did, from dwindling circulation. Theyd resorted to what they euphemistically called retrenchment. My stepfather passed away recently, so I dont have any other family left. I wanted to spend a little time in the last place my brother lived.
That might sound morbid, but it was the best she could do in terms of an explanation.
I see. Whiting was studying her face, as if measuring exactly how much he believed her. Im sorry about your stepfather.
She nodded, accepting the sympathy wordlessly. He would, she supposed, expect her to regret Tom Reilleys death, and she didnt have anything to say that was likely to make sense to a man like Whiting. Another cop, another man with hard edges and no tolerance for someone who didnt live by his rules.
He took a step back, and Kate felt as if she could breathe again.
I hope you find whatever it is youre looking for here.
Her gaze flew to his face, but he apparently didnt mean anything specific by the words. He was just attempting to console. He couldnt possibly have any idea what she was really looking for in Laurel Ridge.
I want to know why. I want to know what happened to my little brother in your town that led to him taking his own life.
CHAPTER TWO
SINCE HER IDENTITY was already known to Chief Whiting, Kate didnt see much point in being less than open with the owner of the bed-and-breakfast. She paused on the sidewalk, taking in the white-frame building, its welcoming porch lined with pots of yellow-and-burgundy chrysanthemums. Jason had mentioned Mrs. Anderson in one of his infrequent phone calls last summer, and Kate had formed the impression from his words of a bustling busybody, intent on knowing all about her guests and everyone else in town.
Well, the woman wouldnt have to pry if Kate was up-front with herrelatively speaking, at least. And if Mrs. Anderson spread the word about Kates presence, it might pave the way to conversations with people who had known him. Of course, Mac Whiting might already be talking about her. She grimaced, not sure she wanted to know what he thought.
The front door stood hospitably open. Kate rang the bell once and stepped inside, onto a braided rug bright against wide, gleaming oak floorboards. An archway on one side of the hall led into a sunny living roomor maybe parlor was a better word, given the Victorian settees, marble-topped tables and grandfather clock. To her left, a drop-leaf table apparently did duty as a reception desk, and a heavily carved staircase wound upward behind it.
No doubt alerted by the bell, a woman emerged from a swinging door that must lead to the back of the ground floorprobably the kitchen and private area. Plump and graying, the woman had a beaming smile for her visitor.
I hope I didnt keep you waiting. Im Grace Anderson. Passing through, are you? Were you looking for a room for the night? She hurried to flip open an old-fashioned register on the table, sounding hopeful.
Actually, Id like to stay for a bit longer than that. She paused, oddly reluctant to take the plunge now that she was here. Im Kate Beaumont. Jason Reilley was my brother.
Oh, my dear. The smiling expression crumpled, and Mrs. Andersons eyes filled with tears. She came around the table, holding both hands out to Kate. Im so very sorry for your loss.
The womans obvious distress pierced Kates armor, and she fought back her own tears. Thank you. Her voice was husky, and she cleared her throat. Jason spoke of your kindness.
Actually, Jason had seemed annoyed by her fussing over him, but coming from a young man finally out on his own, that was only natural. He wouldnt have been eager to trade what he considered an overprotective big sister for a mothering landlady.
He was a dear boy. Mrs. Anderson wiped away tears with the back of her hand. She hesitated, studying Kates face and then glancing away. Did you come... She let the question fade away, obviously curious but hampered by good manners from probing a sensitive subject.
Kate had a wry inward smile for that convention. It was one of the first things to go for a reporter. Well, the story shed told Whiting had better stay consistent.
Im taking a little time off before looking for a new job, which will mean relocating. I thought Id like to spend some time in Laurel Ridge. This place seemed to mean a lot to Jason. She paused, but she may as well go after what she really wanted. I hoped your cottage might be available to rent for a few weeks, maybe a month.
The womans expression grew wary. Are you sure thats wise? Maybe its not...not healthy.
Was she afraid Kate would kill herself with drugs and alcohol, the way Jason did? The thought stung, and Kate had to force a smile.
The cottage sounded so charming from the way my brother described it. And Ill be writing several freelance articles while Im here, so Id appreciate having the extra space to work.
That seemed to mollify the woman, but there was still a trace of doubt in her eyes. Yes, well, why dont we take a look at the cottage first? Maybe it wont be what you want at all, and I have several lovely rooms in the house.
Thanks. Id like to see the cottage. She waited, the smile pinned to her face, letting the silence grow between them. Shed guess Mrs. Anderson wasnt very good with silences.
Yes. Fine. The woman gestured toward the door shed come in. Well go out the back.
A dining room lay behind the parlor, complete with built-in cabinets containing an elaborate china service. An oval cherry table was large enough to seat a dozen, making her wonder how many guests were in residence. The place seemed very quiet.
The kitchen beyond was obviously Mrs. Andersons own domain, with a corner devoted to a computer and filing cabinet and another turned into a cozy nook with a television and a recliner. On the opposite side a glassed-in sunroom looked out on flower beds.
Mrs. Anderson gestured toward the long table that occupied the sunroom. I serve breakfast there from seven to nine on weekdays and eight to ten on Saturday and Sunday. Or if I have a party that wants to meet together, I can set up in the dining room. What sounded like a routine announcement was interrupted by a sudden smile. Well, really, you can let me know what time you want breakfast, as long as Im not too busy.
Encouraged by the thaw, Kate ventured a question. Did Jason usually have breakfast here, or did he fix his own in the cottage?
Mrs. Anderson shrugged, sailing on out the back door and dangling a set of keys. Sometimes one, sometimes the other. On workdays, hed often just have cereal in the cottage, even though I told him he ought to have a good hot breakfast.
The words conjured up an image of Jason, hair rumpled, eyes sleepy, crouched over a bowl of his favorite cereal. There were days when hed eat nothing else for breakfast, lunch and supper unless she intervened.
It was a matter of twenty feet or so to the cottage, but the small building was almost screened from view by an overgrown hedge of lilac bushes that surrounded it, to say nothing of the ivy that climbed up the walls and over the door.
Mrs. Anderson pushed back a lilac branch as she fumbled with a key.
Sometimes I think I ought to have the dratted things cut to the ground, but they smell so lovely in the spring that I havent the heart. She darted a look at Kate. Your brother said it was like the hedge around Sleeping Beautys castle. He liked it.
Im sure he did. From childhood, Jason had escaped life through myth and fantasy, and she wasnt surprised hed thought of it in that way. No thorns, thank goodness, she added.
The door swung open, and Mrs. Anderson vanished inside. Just let me get some lights on, so you can see the place properly, although there is light from the windows, of course.
Kate hesitated on the doorstep, one hand on the frame. A tendril of ivy entangled her fingers as if to restrain her. This is it, a voice seemed to be saying in the back of her mind. Once youre committed, theres no going back.
I dont want to go back, she insisted. Im already in this to the end.
The only possible thing worse than knowing the truth of why Jason died would be never knowing at all.
* * *
MAC WAS STILL thinking about that odd encounter with Kate Beaumont when he headed into the café for coffee. He should be concentrating on the recent explosion of illegal prescription meds surfacing in town. Trouble was, he had a suspicion Kate Beaumont might be likely to set off a few explosions of her own.
Uncle Mac! The high, young voice of his nephew cut through the chatter of the lunchtime crowd. Look what I have!
Grinning, Mac wended his way through tables to where his mother sat with his brothers boy, Jamie. Jamie was holding a sticky bun in an equally sticky hand.
Do you want some, Uncle Mac? Ill share.
Mac stepped back out of range of Jamies waving hand. No, thanks. If I eat that in my uniform, Ill have the bees following me around town.
Jamie, at eight easily impressed, found that hilarious. While he was doubled up with giggles, Mac raised an eyebrow at his mother. No school today?
Ellen Whiting, slim and attractive, shook her head. Dentist appointment. Ill drop him at school after lunch.
I didnt have cavities, Jamie announced proudly around a sticky mouthful.
So youre making up for that by eating lots of sugar, right, buddy? Mac ruffled Jamies fair, silky hair.
Ach, such a sweet boy can use some sugar. Anna Schmidt, the Amish owner of the Buttercup Café, set a mug of coffee in front of Mac and gestured him into a chair. Ill put your coffee refill in a to-go cup, but for now sit down and visit like a normal person.
Denke, Anna. He slid easily into the Pennsylvania Dutch expression hed heard all his life. You scold me as much as my mother does.
I dont scold, Mom said. I just suggest.
Over and over, he teased. He glanced toward the door at the sound of the bell and stiffened. Kate Beaumont had just come in.
She spotted him and stopped midstride, making him think that she was fighting the inclination to turn around and walk back out again.
His lips twitched. She probably didnt know how obvious she was. Perversely, he rose, nodding to her and forcing her to recognize him. Ms. Beaumont, its nice to see you again. Come and meet my mother.
If anyone had a talent for making people thaw, it was Ellen Whiting. Hed be fascinated to see how long Kate held out against her.
Kate approached somewhat unwillingly, he thought.
Kate Beaumont, Ellen Whiting.
His mother held out her hand. So nice to meet you, Kate. Wont you join us?
Before Kate had a chance to respond, Jamie burst into the conversation. Hi, Im Jamie Whiting. Not James, cause thats my grandpas name. Sometimes Grammy calls him Jimmy to tease him, but she always calls me Jamie. Does anybody call you Katie?
Kate looked a bit stunned at Jamies conversational style, but she managed to make a recovery. Hi, Jamie. No, nobody calls me Katie. Just Kate, okay?
Okay. Grammy says you should always call people what they want to be called, because nicknames can hurt peoples feelings. Arent you going to sit down?
Under the pressure of that wide, innocent blue gaze, Kate sat in a chair, but she perched on the edge of it, as if ready to make a quick retreat.
Mac reached across to hand Jamie another napkin. Maybe if youd slow down a bit, somebody else could talk.
Jamie just grinned at him, but he subsided.
Mom, Kates brother was Jason Reilley. You rememberthe young man who passed away last year. He glanced at Jamie, but his nephew was deeply engaged in eating the last crumb of his treat.
His mothers eyes filled with quick sympathy. Oh, my dear, Im so sorry. That was just tragic. You must miss him terribly.
As usual, his mother had moved straight to the heart, and he saw Kates lips tremble for an instant. Yes, she murmured. I do miss him.
Losing someone is never easy, but I always think its especially hard when its a young person. His mother clasped Kates hand. Naturally you must have wanted to see where he lived.
Funny. Hed assumed shed wanted to see where her brother had died, but Mom jumped to the opposite conclusion. And she must be right, judging by the way Kate was looking at herwith a kind of startled surprise at meeting understanding from a stranger.
His mother never stayed a stranger with anyone for long. In a few minutes shed elicited the fact that Kate had lost her job with a Baltimore newspaper in a series of cutbacks.
Im not the only one. She shrugged off an expression of sympathy. People seem to rely on the internet for their news these days, not the daily paper.
Laurel Ridge must be the exception, then. He decided it was time he got back into the conversation. We still have to have our daily dose of the Laurel Ridge Standard, dont we?
Mom chuckled. How else would we know what was going on in town? The grapevine is good, but we have to see some things in print to believe them.
Myself, Id say gossip is more interesting. Anna appeared, setting a mug of coffee in front of Kate without being asked. But theres nothing like the newspaper for seeing whos got what for sale. My boy Luke just got a perfectly good harrow from someone who was going to pay to have it hauled away as junk.