Leave Tomorrow Behind Page 9

  But then other girls jumped up and raced to her, too, and soon she was like a mother hen, so swamped by chicks she could barely stand. The cops gave up trying to separate her from her flock, and stood by, watching. Most of the officers’ faces showed sympathy, pain even.

  Not so my dear detective. She just looked annoyed.

  “Guess other people are sad, too,” I said. “Does that make them all suspects?”

  She glared at me. “They’re girls.”

  “You’re kidding me, right? You think girls can’t kill somebody?”

  “Oh, I know they can. I just think it’s a lot more likely it’s someone else this time.”

  “Like?”

  She cocked her eyebrow. “You can’t really think I’m going to answer that.”

  “Nope. Just like we’re not going to answer anything else. Come on, Nick. Let’s go home.”

  This time, she didn’t stop us.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Word had obviously gotten out about Rikki’s death, because a crowd had gathered outside the exhibit hall. Teenagers, reporters, a drunk guy passed out on a bench. I figured the cops were too busy to get around to hauling him away. Nick and I threaded our way through the people, me leading, pulling him along. We’d almost made it out before they found us.

  “Stella?” Zach pushed through the people closest to us. “Is it true?”

  Taylor was right there with him, along with Claire, Bobby, and Randy. Taylor’s eyes were bloodshot, and her nose had reddened.

  “Taylor’s mom said something happened to Rikki Raines.”

  We’d attracted more people, most of whom I didn’t know. I jerked my head, and Zach and his group followed us to an unoccupied space next to the junior 4-H building. I wasn’t sure what to say. Nick squeezed my hand and gave me a nod.

  “Rikki Raines is…dead,” I told them. “I’m sorry.”

  Taylor let out a sob, and leaned into Zach’s shoulder. He glanced down at her, then awkwardly put his arm around her. Claire’s mouth pinched, and she crossed her arms over her stomach, looking at the ground. The other guys stood silently.

  Zach swallowed. “But…what happened?”

  “We don’t know. She was out behind the calf barn.”

  “You found her? That’s why you were in there?” He meant the exhibit hall, with the cops.

  “We heard screaming. We went to help.”

  “Was she—”

  “We don’t know how she died, Zach. They didn’t tell us anything, and we couldn’t see.”

  Taylor pulled away from Zach. “Is my mom in there?”

  “Yes.” I thought of how the girls had flocked to her. “How does she know those people, the ones who look like Rikki’s friends? Did your mom know Rikki, too?”

  Taylor took a shuddering breath. “They all come to her salon, Rikki and her whole group. The salon has a contract with the recording studio. They do all the make-up and hair for their shoots and videos and public appearances and whatever. She got to know Rikki over this past year. I even got to meet her one time. She was so…nice.” The tears started again, and Taylor swiped at her face.

  Zach stared at me, his expression frightened. It wasn’t about Rikki, I didn’t think, but what to do with the crying girl on his shoulder. I wasn’t going to offer to take her, because God knew I wouldn’t be any better. But I knew someone who would.

  Nick read my face without a word, and gently extricated Taylor from Zach, murmuring something I couldn’t hear. Just like he’d done with Claire’s cow Breezy earlier that day.

  “Why don’t you guys head on back to your trailers,” I said. “We’ll stay with Taylor till her mom comes out.”

  I half expected Taylor to freak out at the suggestion, but she was so out of it I’m not sure she heard what we were saying. Besides, Nick knew what he was doing.

  Zach and the other boys put up a little token refusal, but Claire seemed relieved.

  “Come on, guys,” she said. “It’s late.”

  “Calf judging starts tomorrow,” I added. “You need sleep.”

  “You think they’ll still go on with it?” Bobby asked. “Won’t this mess things up?”

  “They can’t cancel the whole fair.” I didn’t think.

  Still they hesitated.

  “Go on, guys. There’s nothing you can do here. They’re not going to tell you anything.”

  In fact, more cops had arrived and had begun dispersing the crowd.

  “I guess,” Zach finally said. “If you’re sure.”

  “We’re sure. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Nick had taken Taylor to a bench—the drunk guy had now been removed—so Zach and the other kids left without saying goodbye. I assured Zach I’d let her know where they went. With Daniella taking Friend Consolation Duty, she might be a while. Taylor could always crash in her cousins’ trailer while she waited. They were too tired to get up to any shenanigans yet that night. Probably.

  When Zach and his friends were gone, I went over to the bench. Taylor sat in the crook of Nick’s arm, snuggled up against him like a little puppy. Her face was blank and white, and I don’t think she was even aware of where she was.

  I stood beside them, watching as the police sent people away. I know “There’s nothing to see here” is a cliché, but it was also true. We weren’t even in the vicinity of where the body had been found. That was roped off out behind the barn, out of sight from where we were. I wondered if there was a crowd gathered there, too, and how exactly you memorialize a manure trailer.

  The reporters were a little harder to dislodge, and several of them refused to budge. Free speech, and all that. The cops seemed to realize it was a hopeless cause, and left them alone. A helicopter flew over, and I wondered if that, too, was reporters, or if it was law enforcement, searching for the perpetrator, although it seemed a little late for that.

  The officers eventually made their way to us, and we explained about Taylor’s mom being in the building. They made a call, then let us stay, asking us to just “keep out of the way.”

  Not an issue. We weren’t up for moving.

  Almost an hour later—an hour filled with silent tears, blank staring, and sniffles—Daniella Troth exited the building. She was alone, so either Rikki’s friends were still inside, or they’d gone out the other side. The reporters were on her immediately, like Queenie on a day-old bone. The cops had pulled some of their manpower, so Daniella was smothered with shouted questions, and microphones stabbed at her face. Two officers did their best to tear the journalists away, but weren’t having much effect.

  I strode over and forced my way through the reporters. Daniella stared into the camera lights like a raccoon in the headlights of a Mack. I grabbed her arm and backed her up against the building so we weren’t surrounded from all sides. I stepped in front of her.

  “You.” I pointed at one of the cameraman blinding us. “You, and you.” All three. “Turn those off.”

  “Who are you?” A heavily made-up woman I recognized from the evening news pointed a microphone in my face.

  I grabbed the microphone away from her and covered the mouthpiece with my hand. “I am the person who’s going to make sure this lady isn’t hounded by you folks.”

  The reporter tried to get the microphone, but I held it above my head, and she couldn’t reach it. I guess she thought it was undignified to jump.

  She put her hands on her hips. “We have a right to know.”

  “Who am I? I’m surprised you’re so interested.”

  “No, in what’s going on.”

  “Well, then, it’s fortunate you have so many people to ask. Just not this lady.”

  “Who’s she?”

  “No one you need to know.” I aimed meaningful looks at the cameramen.

  “You can’t make them put down the cameras,” Revlon Lady said.

  “Oh, can’t I?” I handed the microphone to Daniella. “Hold this.”

  The first cameraman met my eyes as I stepped toward him
, but his gaze soon dropped to the tattoo peeking around my neck, and his expression wasn’t so confident.

  I leaned toward him and spoke quietly. “Look, man, I really don’t want to break your camera. Do us both a favor and back off.”

  He hesitated a few more seconds, then lowered the camera.

  “Derek!” the reporter shrieked.

  He wouldn’t look at her.

  I swiveled my head to glare at the other two cameramen. One of them put his down right away, but the second waited a few more beats before complying. I nodded my thanks.

  “Come on,” I said to Daniella. I walked her in the opposite direction of Nick and Taylor, because the last thing I wanted was to lead the reporter to them. We were almost across the open space when the camera lights went back on. I spun around, but they weren’t interested in us anymore. Someone else had exited the building. It was a couple of the girls and the middle-aged woman from the center group.

  “Who is that?” I asked.

  Daniella sniffed and pulled a tissue from her purse. “Rikki’s aunt. She raised her. Those are her cousins. Poor things.” She hiccuped.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, but her nose was as red as her daughter’s. “Can we go over to Taylor now?”

  Taylor jumped up when we got close, and grabbed her mother around the waist. Daniella hugged her, and whispered into her hair. Taylor nodded, and stepped back, staying close.

  “Thank you, Stella, for…that.” Daniella gestured at the reporters.

  “My pleasure.”

  “And Nick—I really appreciate you taking care of Taylor.”

  “Glad to help.” He handed her one of his business cards, which bore his cell phone number. “Let us know if there’s anything else we can do.”

  She gazed at the card, then blinked, as if just then realizing what she was holding. “Thank you. I will.”

  There was so much I wanted to ask her, like how was it she’d gotten to be “mom” to that whole gaggle of girls, why she’d been arguing with Gregg earlier, and just how she stayed looking so beautiful with a Rudolph nose. But even I realized it was not the time for questions. We walked the two of them out to the parking lot, and went our separate ways without speaking again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nick insisted on driving home. There was no talking him out of it. By the time we got there, I was exhausted from staying awake, and he was so pale I was sure he was going to pass out.

  Queenie stayed holed up wherever she was, sacked out, I was sure, since it was closing in on three a.m. Nick and I stumbled up the walk and into the living room. I opened the door to the stairs.

  “Nick!”

  I jerked back, knocking Nick to the side. He caught himself on a chair, and I caught myself on him.

  Miranda sat in the dark by the window. She stood up and crossed the room. When she reached us, she poked his chest. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling and texting and—”

  He grabbed her hand and held it. “Miranda, please.”

  “I know you’re mad at me, but that doesn’t mean you should go off who knows where and do…whatever.”

  “We weren’t…” He sighed. “Miranda, can this wait till tomorrow?”

  “I have a right to know—”

  I took a breath, but Nick shut me up with his eyes. Fine. If he wanted to deal with her, he was more than welcome. I stepped into the stairwell, and shut the door behind me. But I stayed at the bottom of the stairs. If she was going to give him a hard time I was going to be there to stop her, whether he wanted me to or not.

  “Miranda,” he said, his voice muffled but understandable. “I’m thirty years old. I believe I can go where I want.”

  “With her.”

  “Yes, with her. She’s the one I go places with now.”

  “As if she cares as much as I do. Look at you. You’re a mess. You should’ve been to bed hours ago. But no, she kept you out doing whoever knows what—”

  “Miranda.”

  “I’ve told you over and over that she doesn’t really care about you as a person—”

  “Miranda, stop.”

  “But—”

  “Quiet.”

  I could hear her intake of breath, it was so loud.

  “This has been a terrible night,” Nick said. “I don’t want to talk about it now. I want to go to bed. I am exhausted and worn out and I’m going to fall over if you don’t let me go.”

  “But…what’s wrong? What happened? Did you have an episode?”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “Stella? Something happened to her? She looked fine.” Said as if she were disappointed I hadn’t dropped dead.

  “I’m going to bed now.”

  “Nick…”

  “If you want to know, watch the news.”

  “Why can’t you just—”

  “Goodnight, Miranda. I suggest you get some sleep, too. You look like hell.”

  I barked a laugh, then slapped my hand over my mouth. Whoops.

  I didn’t wait for the door to open before I ran up the stairs.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I got through milking on autopilot. Nick had slept right through the alarm, and I’d let him go. He needed the rest. I figured I could take a nap later if I needed to.

  I was taking that nap at the kitchen table when someone knocked on the door. I jerked my head up, causing a kink in my neck. Had I really heard something? Yup. There it was again.

  I opened the door, rubbing my neck, ready to yell at whatever salesman was showing up that early. By God, if it was one of Miranda’s florists or caterers or dressmakers I was going to—

  “Willard?” My own local detective stood on the doorstep.

  “Stella. You okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He blinked slowly, his hands in his pockets.

  “You’re not going away, are you?”

  He didn’t move.

  “Fine. Come on in.”

  He ducked under the door and followed me to the kitchen, where my cereal had congealed into milky mush. I dumped it into the sink. “I don’t make coffee. You dying?”

  “I had some already. Thanks.”

  I poured myself a new bowl of cereal and held up the box of Corn Chex. Willard shook his head and took a seat at the table. When I’d joined him, he said, “Late night.”

  “You know about it?”

  “Some. Want to tell me?”

  Surprisingly, I did. I went through the entire ordeal, from hearing the screams to stalking out of the building and telling off the reporters, although I kept that part short and vague. I ended with, “So what’s with that detective? Watts? She have a stick up her ass?”

  Willard chuckled. “Guess you could say that. She’s young, about your age, probably, maybe younger. How old are you again?”

  He’d been at my birthday party, so I figured he was just being annoying. “However old she is, she was a jerk. It’s no wonder she didn’t have a clue what I’d been telling the other cops all evening—none of them probably want to talk to her. What’s her deal? She get dropped on her head at birth?”

  He leaned back, the chair creaking under his bulk. “Worse. Dad made detective even younger than she did. Now he’s sheriff.”

  “Sheriff? How come I didn’t know that?”

  “I don’t know. You don’t watch the news?”

  “No, I mean our Sheriff is Schrock.”

  “Ah, right. His name is Schrock. Hers is Watts.”

  “She’s married.”

  “Actually, no. Her folks were never married, and her mom gave her her own surname when she was born.”

  “So she never really knew her dad.”

  “No, she did. She just never liked him.”

  “And now is working for him.”

  “It’s a strange world.”

  I drank the last of the milk out of my bowl. “Anyway, why are we talking about her?”