Lisa Jackson - Most Likely To Die

“I almost wish you hadn’t checked. At least not until after the funeral. I’ll have to find a way not to stare at them during the service and wonder if either of them is actually capable of murder.”

She cried as many tears as the rest of them did at Mandy Kim Stulz’s funeral service. Poor Jeff. He was little more than a zombie, obviously zoned out on medication. His parents flanked him, his father’s arm around Jeff’s shoulder, his mother holding his hand and weeping softly. And Mandy’s parents-such a sad little couple, clinging to each other, trying to be brave for the sake of Mandy’s siblings. An older sister and brother were both keeping an eye on their elderly parents.

She would have preferred to skip the morbid service, but if she had, people would have wondered why. No one suspected her, and she intended to keep it that way. She had gotten away with murder twenty years ago, hadn’t she? And although Rachel and Dean suspected Aurora’s death hadn’t been accidental and the homeless man hadn’t really killed Haylie, they had no proof that she had killed them.

How absolutely wonderful that Lindsay Farrell was here, on Wyatt Goddard’s arm, no less. To think that all these years she had believed the child Lindsay had given birth to had been Jake’s. An understandable mistake. After all, none of them had known that Lindsay had been cheating on Jake with Wyatt.

Do you hear that, Jake? All the while you thought Lindsay was yours and yours alone, Wyatt was screwing her.

She had to control the urge to laugh out loud.

And you never knew that I found someone else, too. Someone kind and understanding. Someone who loved me. Someone who didn’t judge me harshly and didn’t blame me for loving you and hating you at the same time.

If only things could have been different. If she could have kept her baby.

It might not have been your child, Jake. It might have been his.

She let her gaze travel over the mourners. Discreetly, of course. With a damp Kleenex pressed against her cheek, she faked her grief, putting on quite a performance. Nothing over the top. Just a few tears escaping now and then, enough to convince everyone that she was deeply saddened by Mandy’s death. She watched the others, especially Lindsay, Kristen, and Rachel, and mimicked their actions. Except she didn’t take part in the comforting, caring hugs they shared. Just as it had been in the past, she was close to them, an arm’s length from their inner circle. And yet she might as well have been a million miles away for all the good it did her. They wouldn’t let her in now any more than they would have back then when she had so longed to fit in.

But soon-very soon-there would be no inner circle, no little clique of popular girls.

They’ll all be dead-every last one of them.

And when the bulldozers destroyed St. Elizabeth’s, swept away the rubble and buried the remains, she and she alone would be left standing, her thirst for revenge sated, her enemies punished, all the wrongs made right at last.

In the past twenty years, Rachel had made friends in both Chattanooga and in Huntsville, but none of her more recent relationships had been as strong as the bond she had forged in high school with Kristen and Lindsay. Being with them again was like turning back the clock and reverting into teenagers who shared everything with one another. Well, almost everything. Lindsay had kept her pregnancy a secret. God only knew how. Maybe it was because she and Kristen had both known that Lindsay wasn’t having sex with Jake and just assumed she was still a virgin.

Rachel made herself a promise-she was not going to lose track of Kristen and Lindsay, not ever again. She was going to stay in touch often.

Mandy’s mother had disappeared into the nursery to look after her granddaughter, leaving her forlorn husband in the hands of Mandy’s siblings. Jeff continued in remote-control mode, shaking hands with sympathetic friends and acquaintances who had stopped by the house after the funeral. His father stayed at his side while his mother oversaw the refreshments being served by kind neighbors.

As if a gravitational pull had drawn them together, Lindsay and Wyatt stood in the corner talking to Kristen and Ross while Rachel and Dean approached the two couples. After another round of hugs and tearful sighs, the three old friends turned to the men in their lives for support. Ross draped his arm across Kristen’s shoulders, while Lindsay clung to Wyatt’s hand. As if he sensed she needed his touch, Dean eased his arm around Rachel’s waist.

“I don’t see how Jeff is making it,” Kristen said. “He’s lost without Mandy. Those two were so in love.”

“He’s numb right now,” Dean said. “But heaven help him when the medication wears off.”

A revolving door of mourners came through the Stulz home in the next hour, most strangers to Rachel. If not for Dean to lean on, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to endure this post-funeral affair. When he caught her staring at Bella Marcott, Dean alerted her to what she was doing. She had managed not to focus for more than a minute or two on DeLynn and Martina, but April had caught Rachel looking at her. Rachel had nodded and then glanced away.

As she had studied each woman, she’d asked herself, “Is she capable of cold-blooded murder?”

Bella made her way through the crowd, stopping directly in front of Rachel. “Did you want to say something to me? I noticed you were staring at me.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said. “That was rude of me. I’ve caught myself wondering which one of us will be next. You, me, DeLynn, Kris-”

“What do you think, Bella?” Dean asked.

“I’d rather not think about it,” Bella said. “It’s frightening to believe that someone is killing us off, one by one. Do the police have any idea who killed Mandy and if her death is connected to Haylie’s murder or Aurora’s death in New York?”

“We have a few theories,” Dean replied. “And sooner or later, we’ll catch the killer.”

“Jake’s murderer was never caught,” Bella said.

“Not yet.” Rachel’s gaze meshed with Bella’s and she openly studied Jake’s sister.

“Do you really think you can solve a twenty-year-old crime?”

Rachel nodded. “Yes, I do, especially if my theory that whoever killed Jake is killing again, murdering the women who were closest to Jake.”

“What an odd theory. Why would anyone want to kill Jake’s women?”

Such a peculiar thing to say, Rachel thought. Jake’s women. But she supposed that’s what they’d all been in one way or another.

One of the Stulzes’ neighbors, a middle-aged lady with blue, Bette Davis eyes came up to Rachel. “I’m sorry to interrupt. There’s another floral delivery, but when I told the young man to bring the flowers in and find a place for them anywhere in the living room, he said the flowers were to be delivered directly to Sergeant Rachel Alsace.”

A quiver of uncertainty rippled along Rachel’s spine.

“Want me to see what this is all about?” Dean asked.

“No, I can handle it.” She turned back to Bella. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Certainly.”

Rachel headed for the door where a twentysomething delivery boy stood holding a large white box. As she neared him, she sensed Dean directly behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him.

Focusing on the delivery boy, she said, “I’m Rachel Alsace.”

“I was told to deliver these directly to you.” He handed her the box, which Dean reached out and took from him. The boy jumped back, startled by Dean’s unexpected maneuver. “No need to tip me. It’s been covered…when the flowers were ordered.”

Dean and Rachel looked at each other, neither saying a word. While he held the box, she removed the lid. Inside were seven lilies, each tied with a white ribbon, similar to the lilies and yards of white ribbon used in the spray that had covered Mandy’s coffin. Attached to each ribbon was a card, and on each card was written a name. Rachel picked up the first lily and read the card.