Almost Dead (Lizzy Gardner #5)(18)

The newscaster asked anyone who might recognize the woman shown in the video to call in. Then they plastered a 1-800 number across the screen. Following the announcement was a prerecorded video of the crime scene: cop cars, a dozen of them, yellow crime tape across Apartment 32B, and a body bag brought out on a stretcher and lifted into an ambulance.

Only two cameras, huh? How stupid could you be?

Deflated, Jenny took her plate and glass to the kitchen, dumped the food into the garbage, and then put on a pair of rubber gloves and began to scrub.





CHAPTER 13

“You worry too much,” Lizzy told Jessica as she kept her hands on the wheel and her eyes on the road.

“I’m going to see if I can get a few days off and come for a short visit.”

“It’s been sort of hectic,” Lizzy told her. “I appreciate the thought, but it’s really not necessary.”

“Class is starting in a minute,” Jessica said. “I have to go, but we’re not finished with this conversation, OK?”

“Whatever you say. Go to class. We’ll talk again soon.” Lizzy hit the Off button on the console, shutting off their Bluetooth connection. Jessica Pleiss had joined Lizzy Gardner Investigations as an intern when she was attending Sac State. They had been through a lot together. Recently, Jessica had been accepted into the FBI Academy, located on a Marine Corps base in Quantico, Virginia. She was enrolled in a twenty-week training course, and, as far as Lizzy was concerned, she needed to stay in Virginia and focus on her studies.

Parking was tight around Melony Reed’s house off Fuller in Granite Bay, so Lizzy parked at the junior high school across the street and walked the half block to her place. Melony had called, told her it was an emergency. Lizzy didn’t plan to be in the office today, so she’d told Melony she would stop by this afternoon.

The only thing Lizzy knew about her was that she was newly divorced and more than a little bitter toward her ex-husband, who had run off with his secretary and taken everything with him, including her pride.

A light rain sprinkled the walkway as she made her way to the door.

Melony Reed greeted her before she could knock. The woman was tall and thin. Her cheekbones were sharp, and a thick layer of foundation was losing out to the gray circles under her eyes. She looked like a Stepford wife: a little too perfect in her sleeveless pink formfitting dress and pearl necklace.

Melony opened the door wide and said, “Thank you for coming.”

Lizzy followed her inside. The interior was traditional: calm, orderly, and predictable. Everything was impeccably tidy.

Melony bent down to pick up an invisible piece of lint from the hardwood floors and said, “Excuse the mess.”

After Lizzy turned down an offer of tea and coffee and they were seated in the living room, Lizzy said, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get right down to business. It’s been a crazy week.”

Melony agreed.

“During our phone conversation, you said that you were afraid for your life.”

“That’s correct.”

“You also said that you talked to the police, but they can’t help you.”

“Correct.”

Lizzy pulled out paper and pencil and peered into a pair of cat-shaped eyes. “Why don’t we start from the beginning?”

The woman’s hands were clasped in her lap, her spine as straight as a post. “In the past three weeks,” Melony said, “four people from my high school have died.”

Lizzy waited for her to go on, but Melony seemed to think that bit of information was enough to sound the alarms. “And?”

“And I’m afraid I might be next.”

“People die all the time.” Lizzy knew that firsthand.

“You sound like the police.”

Ouch.

“One freak accident might be overlooked, but four so close together? The odds are astounding.”

“How did they die?”

“Stephen White was blown up while barbecuing a steak. People barbeque every day. Tell me that’s not a little peculiar? Debi Murray was the next to go. She was driving on the highway when her brakes went out. She hit a divider and went over an embankment. Died instantly. And then Gavin Murdock, a health freak, had a heart attack on his thirty-first birthday. Concerned, I called my friend Rachel Elliott. She didn’t have time to talk for long, but I asked her if she’d heard the news about the others, which she had. We set a time to meet for coffee the next day, but she didn’t show up. It turned out, thirty minutes after I talked to Rachel, she was dead—tripped and fell during her evening run.”

“How? Did she hit her head on a rock?”

“No. Get this—she fell on a cluster of punji sticks, the same sort of sharp upright bamboo sticks that were used in the Vietnam War.”

“What did the police say about that?”

“They’re still looking into it, of course, but they believe kids in the neighborhood were playing around. The police report indicates that the sticks weren’t sharp enough to kill anybody and therefore they believe Rachel died of a heart attack before she even hit the ground. Absurd.”

It was quiet while Lizzy made notes.

“I’m scared,” Melony said. “I don’t know what to do.”

Lizzy looked up from her notes. “Were you close to any of the other people who’ve died beside Rachel Elliott?”