Bragg pulled his cell phone and dialed DPS and ordered a patrol car. “Sir, I’m going to have an officer drive you home. I don’t want you driving.”
Adam shook his head. “I can drive.”
“No, sir.” Instead of handing the keys back to Owens he flagged a nurse and gave them to her with instructions to hold them until an officer arrived. He also told her to find the hospital chaplain.
A half hour later he opened the front door of Jennifer’s shop. He flipped on the lights. An eerie silence greeted him, making him feel as if the shop had died with its owner. Looking at the attention to detail in the displays and window dressings and the way the counter had been left clean and ready for business on Monday, he could tell she’d clearly loved and took pride in this store.
He went back to her office and turned on more lights. He checked receipts for the day neatly organized in a pile in the center of her desk. He noted five purchases. All over three thousand dollars. All cash. It was as if a parade of patrons had flocked to her door. Her most successful day had been her last.
It didn’t take much effort for Bragg to locate the church holding Rory’s funeral. It was in West Lake Hills, nestled in a small residential neighborhood. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes before three. After parking, he scanned the area and spotted Greer’s truck parked under a tree. To his surprise she was still in the truck.
Out of his car, he moved closer and saw she’d brushed out her hair letting it flow over her shoulders. She wore a black dress, no jewelry except for the bracelets. In the big truck’s cab she looked small and vulnerable—both descriptions would no doubt make her angry.
When she saw him approaching, her frown deepened. She slid out of the truck. “Why did you want to meet me at the funeral?”
The sun beat on his back but the warmth building in him had to do with her. “I’m here for you.”
“Why? I can handle this.”
A slight breeze teased the hair framing her face. The urge to touch her was strong, undeniable.
When he didn’t answer, she glanced toward the church’s large wooden doors. “I should be going inside. The service starts soon.”
“Why haven’t you gone inside yet?”
Her brow furrowed. “I’ve been sitting here for the last fifteen minutes hoping to gather my courage. But now I really must leave.”
Without thought, he took ahold of her arm. The touch of her skin electrified, felt better than he imagined.
She glanced at his hand and when she raised her gaze back to his her cheeks were flushed. She made no move to pull away.
“I wanted to give you the news in person.” He paused. “Jennifer Bell is dead.” He studied her face, watching it transform from curiosity to shock to horror. The urge to comfort was so strong, but he shoved it aside.
She cleared her throat. “What happened?”
He wanted to tell her. “Tell me about Jennifer. Why was she at Shady Grove?” This close his height could intimidate, but she didn’t shy away.
She lifted a chin. “She never wanted anyone to know.”
He hesitated, feeling the weight of the words he needed to speak. “She’s dead.”
A sigh shuddered from her.
His fingers squeezed her arm gently, urgently. “Greer. Tell me.”
“She came to the camp about a week after I did.” Questions demanded answers but he held them at bay, giving her a moment to explain. “At first, she wouldn’t tell us what she’d done. It had to be bad to land at Shady Grove.” A silence settled between them as if she had stumbled into the past.
“Greer. What did she do?”
“She took an overdose of her mother’s painkillers. Her mother found her barely in time. Her stomach was pumped, and she was sent to Shady Grove.”
“Why did she try to kill herself?”
“She and her brother were at the family lake house. She said she dove into the lake and then dared her brother to do the same. He didn’t want to, and she called him a coward. He got mad and dove. When he hit the water he struck a log and broke his neck. He died days later. She blamed herself.”
He thought about what Adam Owens had told him about Jennifer being an only child. Was she the only remaining child or had she lied to the group at camp? Lies seemed more common than not at that place. “Rory had been heard saying he wanted to see you again. Your picture was nailed to the tree where he was hung and his body was on your property. Sara wanted her mother’s forgiveness for an abortion. There was a tape of her mother’s voice playing over and over in the freezer. And we found a baby doll in her trash can. Jennifer was found dead of an overdose. This killer is re-creating past failures, granting last wishes, and then killing suicide survivors. What did Jennifer want?”
“I don’t know. I guess she wanted to wish away her brother’s accident.” Tears pooled in her eyes.
“Her fiancé said she was an only child.”
“That doesn’t make sense. I remember her telling me about her brother. It was a bond we shared.” Greer swiped away a tear, shaking her head. “Jennifer was a complicated girl. I always suspected there was so much she wasn’t saying. Sara picked up on it in camp. She pressed Jennifer one night to be truthful, but instead of talking, Jennifer left the circle.”
“She left her shop late yesterday afternoon. First, she spoke to her fiancé, Adam Owens, and then she said she was on her way home. Minutes later, she texted Owens and said she was sick. Twelve hours later she’s dead. Where was she? What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“Whoever killed those three has to be connected to Shady Grove. Someone who knew you and the others and who also knew intimate details of those kids’ lives also is killing them one by one.”
Her hands shook. “Why?”
He shook his head. “That’s a question you can answer better than me.”
“How would I know?”
“You lived inside that camp. You knew the players better than I did. I’m pushing hard now for a search warrant for the medical records, but I need your help.”
She pulled out of his grip and reached inside her truck and from her purse removed a picture. She handed it to him. “I found this in a closet last night. I’d planned to give it to you.”
He instantly recognized Greer leaning into Rory, a handsome boy with an electric smile. Next to Rory stood Sara and beside her Jennifer, a haunted pain lingering behind her smiling eyes. Next to her stood a tall lean boy with dark hair. He had a goofy, over-the-top grin that suggested he overcompensated for hidden fears.
“That is Sam,” she said, following his gaze.
“His real name is Michael Sycamore. He lives in Houston and no one has seen him for a week.”
“I’ve not seen him since camp.”
“There’s been no one around you that you’ve seen, say at the party, that could have been him?”
“No.”
“What about the caller at the Crisis Center. You said it sounded like a woman, but could it have been him pretending?”
She frowned. “No. I mean at the time I thought I was speaking to a woman but now I don’t know.”
“Tell me about the night this photo was taken.”
“It was the last night we were all together. I didn’t want to go at first. I hate good-byes, and I didn’t want to see Rory go. But I went and we sat around that night clinging to each other because we knew our time together was ending. Rory was being sent home the next day, and we knew Sara, Jennifer, and Sam, I mean Michael, would follow soon.” She traced Jennifer’s face, closed her eyes, and then as if a memory drifted from the shadows said, “That last night we all shared our dying wish.”
“What were they?”
“Rory said he’d die happy if I were the last person he saw. Sara wanted her mother to love her.”
“Did Jennifer say she wanted her brother back?” Bragg asked.
She closed her eyes and then when she opened them he saw surprise. “No, she said she wanted forgiveness.”
“Are you sure?”