She didn’t mean to get herself entangled in mysteries, but she couldn’t deny they had a way of popping up when she was around. Despite the deaths, she felt safe and happy. Maybe there was something wrong with her that she could put those events in a box and store them on a shelf labeled Do Not Think About, but there was so much good about the town, it seemed to push everything else away.
“Hey Molly,” Bella, owner of Morning Muffins, called out as Molly took the concrete steps up to the cobblestone walkway that would lead her part of the way home.
Bella was locking the bakery door, and turned all the way around as Molly got closer. “Hey. How’s it going?”
Bella squatted down. “Hey, buddy. Sorry, no treats on me today.” She looked up at Molly. “I’m good. How are you? Clay didn’t get under your skin, did he?”
Molly laughed. “No. I’m fine. I am thinking that we just start sharing the news via gossip however, since it’s the fastest source of communication around here.”
Bella grinned unashamedly as she stood. “Nah. We still like to have something to look at online or hold in our hands.”
Main Street was mostly shutting up for the night. When it wasn’t tourist season, the hours shortened and the city seemed to sleep more. Molly hadn’t noticed Callan’s car when she’d stopped to say hello to the pretty brown-haired baker who made the best lemon loaf in the world. But she noticed his scowl when his car door opened and he stood up, looking at Molly and his on-again, off-again girlfriend.
“Hi, Molly. Bella, are we going or what?”
Molly cringed. She hated how Callan treated Bella. He could be a really nice guy but he could also be a complete jerk. Bella, on the other hand, was sweet and kind. She was always ready with a smile and a delicious treat, even when someone—say an editor who stuck her nose where it didn’t belong—accused that on-again, off-again boyfriend of murdering the town’s meanest reporter.
She’d admitted her mistake and apologized to both Callan and Bella but she’d never shaken the feeling that Callan was capable of dark things. He had an edge to him despite being friends with several of the people she knew and trusted.
Bella gave Molly a tight-lipped smile. “Better go. See you around.”
Tigger whined as they watched her walk toward the car and get in. As someone who’d given too much of her life to a man who didn’t deserve her, Molly’s heart ached for her friend. But she knew from experience that Bella wouldn’t and couldn’t be convinced to walk away until she was truly ready.
She picked up her pace as she walked home, thinking that she also knew from experience that once a person let go of the negativity pulling them down—whether it was a person or something else—the world opened up its doors. Sometimes those doors led a person exactly where they were meant to be.
Chapter Three
The Britton Bay Recreation Center was a hub of activity when Molly, Sam, and Chris arrived later that night. With a big auditorium that included a stage, the town often held large-scale functions at the site. There were two small gymnasiums and several classrooms that offered a range of courses from seniors’ yoga to CrossFit. Molly had tried a few classes but she preferred walking on the beach to a crowded, sweaty group workout.
A group of teens were heading noisily toward one gymnasium, a basketball bouncing in time with their steps. A couple of older women were paying for water yoga, which started shortly. A man and a woman who looked close to Molly’s age stood waiting behind the women, arguing heatedly but quietly, both holding squash racquets. Chris and Sam waved to the young man behind the counter, who looked a little frazzled as he chatted with the customers.
The center was huge, with arms stretching out in each direction from the main area. The indoor pool was at the far end of one of those arms, but still the scent of chlorine hovered in the air, probably from people leaving after their swim. The three of them went to the left—clearly Chris had already come by to see his girlfriend, Sarah. She was a newer resident—which, to Molly, was anyone who’d settled in Britton Bay after her. Along with being a talented artist, Sarah owned an art studio up the road. She and Molly had become fast friends, which worked out well since their respective boyfriends were close.
“Through here,” Chris said, gesturing to a set of double doors that had black paper taped over the windows. A white sign had been plastered over the paper saying, Closed Set. Molly bit her lip to keep from grinning. Apparently, community theater was a serious thing.
“You’re not scared to go in?” Sam asked, gesturing to the sign.
Chris scowled. “This woman was on a soap opera for five minutes thirty years ago, and she acts like she’s next in line for the throne.” He tugged on the sign, pulling it down. “How on earth can she close the set when she needs volunteers to be ready for opening night?”
When he pulled the door open for them, Molly let Sam go first. “Sacrificing me?” he whispered as he led the way into the darkened auditorium.
“You’re being noble,” she whispered back, tucking her fingers in the back pocket of his jeans while her eyes adjusted to the dark.
“That’s awfully nice of me,” Sam said, reaching back for her other hand and pulling her close.
“You know what they say about nice guys,” Chris whispered behind them.
Up ahead of them, at the front of the auditorium, the stage was lit up with overhead lighting but it didn’t cast a glow far enough for Molly, Sam, and Chris to really see where they were going.
The door swung shut behind them, like it had been on a five-second delay. Everyone on stage froze and looked in their direction. If what Molly had heard about stage lighting was true, none of the cast could see them. Someone in the front row stood, almost cinematically slow, and turned. It was impossible with the distance and the dark to make out the features, and maybe it was the rumors she’d heard, but the figure looked ominous with the light glowing in the background.
“Uh-oh,” Sam whispered, stopping. “I think we’ve upset the Wizard.”
“What part of closed set do you not understand?” The slightly nasally feminine voice rang out through the auditorium like a dignified roar.
“We’re here to help out with the set, Ms. Sweet,” Chris called back. Molly could feel the tension radiating from him, nearly vibrating through the darkness. She’d been on the wrong side of Chris’s anger more than once and knew he wouldn’t cower in the face of conflict. They should have let him go first.
“Stagehands enter through the alley. Never through the front,” Ms. Sweet called back.
Molly gulped down the ball of nerves that lodged in her throat. She’d been brave in the face of disaster more than once, yet just this woman’s tone froze the hair on her arms.
“Maybe so,” Chris said, stepping around Molly and Sam. “But there’s a truck blocking that entrance right now.”
“What?”
The director’s shriek made Molly jump, and Sam pulled her into his side, putting his arm around her shoulder.
She pointed toward the stage, yelling, “Five-minute break. Not six; five,” and stormed off to what Molly was pretty sure was stage right. It wasn’t until she got a bit further that Molly noticed there was someone following behind her. With the light and the dark, whoever it was had literally been eaten up by the former star’s presence.
The three of them continued down the aisle toward the front of the room where the cast still stood like a scared tableau. Now that they were closer, Molly