“My wife isn’t home right now, so why don’t I run by the house and pick it up? I’ll drop it off at the precinct for you, okay?”
Trey nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Porter. I’ll make sure to return it as soon as we’ve gotten the information we need.”
“This has to do with the murders, doesn’t it?” Will asked.
“Yes, sir, it does,” Trey said.
“Do you think someone from my class is doing this?”
Trey shrugged. “I think it has to do with the school. Whether it has to do with your class or not is another subject.”
“I don’t know what I think, except that what’s happened is a tragedy,” Will said.
“That it is,” Trey said. “So I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you for your help,” he added as he stood. “Don’t get up, I’ll let myself out.”
As soon as Trey was gone, Will grabbed his keys and left his office, only pausing for a moment to tell his secretary where he was going, and then hurried home.
* * *
It was nearly 11:00 a.m. when Sam Jakes came around the curve in the road and saw the Mystic city-limits sign. He’d done this so many times in his dreams that there was a part of him that thought he was still dreaming, that he wasn’t actually there.
Then he passed a man walking down the side of the road with a stringer of fish over his shoulder and not only identified the kind of fish the man had caught but also recognized the face. It was one of the Pryor brothers who lived up on the mountain. This had never been part of the dream. This had to be real.
He drove into town with a knot in his belly, and the farther he went, the bigger it grew. He slowed down as he passed the police precinct but didn’t stop and kept driving north until he saw the motel.
He was stiff from the drive and stood for a few moments after he got out, stretching his legs and letting the muscles relax. After he entered he paused at the counter, thinking the woman looked familiar, and then realized this was going to be a continuing thing. Just because he’d left Mystic didn’t mean everyone else had, too.
“Welcome to Mystic,” she said, and then gasped.
“Sam Jakes! Oh, my word! It’s been ages.” Then her expression fell. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” Sam said. “I think Trey reserved a room for me.” He slid a credit card across the counter.
“Yes, he did, but he didn’t say it was for you. You don’t remember me, do you? I’m Delia Summers. Your mother was one of my best friends.”
Sam eyed her closer, seeing the woman she’d been beneath the extra weight and white hair.
“Yes, now I do. It’s good to see you again,” he said.
She scanned the credit card, gave it back and then handed him the room key.
“Room 130. It’s around back, which will give you a little more privacy.”
He was surprised by her thoughtfulness.
“I appreciate it, Mrs. Summers.”
“Delia! Please! And give Trey my best. We all have Trina in our prayers.”
He left the office and drove around back and easily found the door to his room. He swiped the key card and was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the furnishings as he went in. It had a tan carpet, brown-and-gold bedding and tan-and-gold curtains.
He left his suitcase on the bed and sent Trey a text that he was in town. Now that he was there, he felt the need to hurry and get to Trina. He washed up in haste, and when he saw Trey hadn’t returned the text, he began to worry. Being chief of police in your own hometown had to have its own set of challenges.
By the time he got to the hospital he had a knot in his stomach. Hospitals made him antsy anyway, and having his sister in critical condition made it worse. Last night’s rain had left puddles in the parking lot, and from the look of the sky it appeared more rain was imminent.
He was walking toward the hospital when his phone signaled a text. It was Trey.
I’m just leaving the high school. I’ll be there soon. Lee will fill you in. He’s Trina’s boyfriend.
Sam frowned as he reached the entrance. Damn it to hell but he hated hospitals. He took a deep breath, walked inside like he owned the place and headed for the information desk.
A uniformed volunteer smiled at him as he approached.
“Ma’am, how do I get to ICU?” he asked.
She pointed down the hall. “Take the elevator up to the third floor, take a right and go all the way to the end of the hall.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, and headed down the hall. Three women were already waiting at the elevator when he walked up. They turned out of curiosity. While he didn’t recognize any of them, they obviously knew who he was.
The elevator opened, and he followed them on, pressed the button for the third floor and then moved all the way to the back of the car.
A thin brunette was the first to speak. She was clutching her purse against her chest like a shield as she turned around.
“You have my sympathies,” she said.
An older woman nodded. “And mine,” she added, while eyeing him from head to toe.
The third woman was a buxom blonde whose gaze was more intent and less into consolation. “Long time, no see, Sam,” she said.
“I’m sorry, you ladies have me at a disadvantage,” he said.
“We’re Harpers,” the blonde one said. “Wilma is our mother, Wilda here is my younger sister and I’m Wynona.”
He had a vague memory of skinny kids running wild along the creek.
“You lived across the creek from my parents’ farm,” Sam said.
Wilma nodded. “We still do. We’re so sorry to hear about your mama. This whole killing business has been horrible. Just horrible. I haven’t had one good night’s sleep since they found Dick Phillips hanging in his barn.”
Sam flinched. Obviously one of the details Trey had yet to fill him in on.
The elevator stopped on two and the women got off.
“It was good to see you again,” Wynona said, and then winked.
Sam’s phone rang just as the door closed between them. He noticed it was from the office and let it go. He’d already told his secretary to cancel his appointments until further notice. Whatever was happening, it could wait.
He got off the elevator on the third floor and headed down the hall just like the lady had said, following the signs to ICU.
The nurse on duty at the desk looked up.
“What room is Trina Jakes in?” he asked.
“What’s your name, please?” she asked.
He frowned. “I’m her brother Sam.”
“Could I see some identification, please?” she asked.
His frown deepened as he handed his license to her.
She checked it against a list, then handed it back with an apology.
“I’m sorry, but we’re under orders from the chief of police to limit her visitors to immediate family only, and I’m new to Mystic and don’t know anyone.”
Good call, little brother. “It’s okay. I appreciate your diligence.”
“She’s down that way in 12B. There’ll