Stretching out, she let the bubbles flow through her fingers, willing her mind to stop whirring and relax. She had dozed off when she jerked awake. There, at the edge of her dream, was a clue, but as she concentrated, it slipped away. She knew she was overlooking something in the murder case, but what?
She reached out idly to stroke Bingo, who was curled up on the bath mat waiting patiently for her to go to bed. What was she missing? They had checked out all of the local people who might want Risé dead. The only ones left would be someone from her previous life, who might have tracked her to Scumble River. But was that really likely?
Risé had been cleared by the law, and her boss was in prison. Unhappy investors were more apt to go after him, weren’t they? So, where did that leave the investigation?
Suddenly, Skye sat straight up, splashing Bingo, who ran away with an indignant howl. What if she’d been mistaken all along? What if Risé wasn’t the intended target and Kayla was? What if the murderer had killed the woman he intended to kill?
Damn! That would put them right back where they had started. Wally’s officers had looked into Kayla and hadn’t found any reason someone would want to kill her. So who had done it?
Skye toed open the drain and got out of the tub. She didn’t have an answer to that question, but she was pretty sure she knew where to find someone who might. Someone who wouldn’t have told the police anything. As Father Burns always said, the Lord would provide.
May was glad to hear that Vince was okay, but she was extremely displeased that he’d called his sister and not his mother. May was also unhappy that Skye had not gotten any details as to his whereabouts. But she agreed that she and Jed would be at the bookstore café as per Vince’s instructions. The only thing that had saved Skye from lengthy recriminations was that her mom had to get to six o’clock Mass.
Which was why she had called May at five forty a.m. Thank goodness Xenia attended a later service, since Skye wasn’t sure what her priority would have been if the teenager also went to the early Mass—avoiding May or talking to Xenia.
Skye didn’t know how long Xenia had been going to church, since Skye usually went at eight. But a few months ago, she’d had to attend the eleven o’clock Mass, and she’d been surprised to see the teenager there. Somehow the Goth-punk apparel didn’t seem to go with Catholicism, but Xenia was anything but predictable.
Now Skye kept an eye on her as Father Burns concluded the service, saying, “The Mass is ended. Go in peace.”
After the parishioners responded, “Thanks be to God,” Father Burns added, “Remember, a closed mind is usually accompanied by an open mouth.”
Smiling, Skye joined the congregation shuffling down the aisle toward the exit. As always, Mass had made her feel at peace, but it was time to talk to Xenia about Kayla. And this time she wasn’t giving up until she got the whole story.
When Skye had tried before, she’d accepted Xenia’s claim that Kayla was an angel and there was no one who would want to hurt her, but now Skye wondered whether she’d been too quick to believe Xenia. No one was that perfect, and Xenia had to know more about Kayla than she had told Skye. After all, who had more dirt on a teenage girl than her best friend?
“Wait up, Xenia.” Skye caught up with the girl at the foot of the stairs, and they moved onto the grass.
“Ms. D.” Xenia stopped. “I bet I was the last person you thought you’d see at church.”
“Not the last person . . .” Skye trailed off, not wanting to lie. “But I thought maybe with your trust issues—”
“Hey,” Xenia cut her off. “I believe God loves me. I just think he has a really, really wack way of showing it sometimes.” She grinned. “Besides, I like asking Father B. questions that get him all riled up. I’m an equal-opportunity annoyer.”
Skye couldn’t imagine the priest “all riled up,” so instead of commenting, she asked, “How about I buy you lunch?”
“McDonald’s or the Feed Bag?” Xenia challenged.
“You pick.”
Xenia weighed the choices. “Since you probably want to pump me about Kayla again, McDonald’s is more private.”
“True.” Skye was glad that Xenia seemed to be in a cooperative mood. “Then McDonald’s it is.”
“I’ll meet you there. Get me a Big Mac, fries, and a large coffee,” Xenia said, then started off to the right. “The lot was full, so my car’s parked on the street.”
Skye nodded and headed in the opposite direction. She hoped this wasn’t Xenia’s way of ditching her.
When she arrived at McDonald’s, Xenia had staked out a booth in the back corner. Skye placed their order and joined the girl once their meals were ready.
Skye slid into the seat opposite Xenia and distributed the food. “Thanks for talking to me.”
“Duh. Like you wouldn’t have hounded me until I did.” Xenia decapitated a sugar packet and poured the contents into her cup, stirred, then asked, “So, what’s up?”
“I need you to be straight with me.” Skye had thought a lot about how to approach Xenia and decided head-on was the best way. “I know Kayla was your friend, and you don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but we need to find her killer. No one is as wonderful as you described Kayla to me last time we talked.”
“True,” Xenia agreed without the least bit of embarrassment. “But why should I tell you Kayla’s personal business?” She fiddled with her stirrer, spattering the tabletop with droplets of coffee. “Besides, I thought you told me yesterday that the murderer was after Ms. Vaughn, not Kayla.”
“Now I think I was wrong.” Skye shook her head. “Something’s been bothering me, and I think I figured out what. Your version of Kayla and Chase’s version of Kayla are too dissimilar. It’s almost as if you two were talking about different girls.”
“That’s ’cause he had no idea who she really was.” Xenia took a bite of her sandwich, swallowed, and added, “He thought she should be like some nineteen-fifties housewife—pop out two-point-five kids, make his dinner, and clean up after everyone.”
“And you thought she should pursue her art and become a famous director.” Skye gave Xenia a calculating glance. “Was that her dream or yours?”
“Both of ours.” Xenia sneered. “Chase is a jerk. He’s just like Kayla’s stepdad.”
“You’re sure?” Skye made a face. “One of my personality flaws, and a bad one considering I’m a psychologist, is that I’m often too quick to judge people.”
“I’m right about Kayla.” Xenia’s voice was firm. “And about Chase.”
“One thing I always try to remember is that the side a person shows you is not always representative of them as a whole.” Skye stabbed her salad over and over with her fork as she considered Xenia’s statements. “Kayla had to see something in Chase. They were together a long time.”
“Back when they first started dating, he was what she needed—someone to love her more than anyone else. He was a way to escape from her family and for her to be number one in someone’s life.” Xenia twisted a skull-shaped ring on her finger. “But that was years ago. When Kayla started film school in Chicago, she got a taste of freedom and saw what life outside of Scumble River could be like. It made her think that maybe Chase wasn’t the right guy for her.”
“Chase said they were getting married later this month.”
“True. She agreed a couple of weeks ago to marry him.” Xenia narrowed her eyes. “But now that we’re talking about it, Kayla said something the night before she was killed that made me wonder if she’d changed her mind.”