Almost Dead (Lizzy Gardner #5)(82)

“OK, then,” Hayley said. “I’ll be ready to go in five minutes.”




Lizzy had already crossed three people off her list.

She went about things a little differently this time. Instead of barging in like a maniac and making accusations, she rang the bell, introduced herself, calmly told whoever answered the door why she was there, and then proceeded to ask questions.

So far, so good.

If she hadn’t been running on adrenaline and caffeine when she’d paid Dana Kohl a visit, she might have seen that the woman wasn’t who she thought her to be. She’d gone to the woman’s house with her mind already made up.

She’d made a mistake. She’d been making a lot of them lately.

But not today. She knew what needed to be done. Today she would proceed with care and professionalism. If she had done the same when she’d first met Melony Reed, the woman might still be alive.

It turned out that Latochia Bell had a husband and three kids. She was clearly overwhelmed. She didn’t have time to feed the baby, let alone plan a murder.

Julie Smith was newly married with a baby on the way and was quite possibly one of the sweetest ladies Lizzy had ever met—she was not a cold-blooded killer.

Lizzy had just left the third woman on her list five minutes ago. Kat Remington had turned out to be a major yapper. Lizzy had nearly fallen asleep listening to her stories about how the Ambassador Club members only did what they did because they were insecure. Apparently, Kat believed strongly in forgiving those who she believed didn’t know any better. After her lecture on forgiveness, she spent the next forty-five minutes complaining about how her impossible mother-in-law told her what, when, and how to do everything, including how to make a bed, iron a shirt, and cook a proper dinner for her husband.

The woman was beyond exasperating, but no killer.

Jenny Pickett was next on the list.

The only Picketts listed, though, were Ophelia and James Pickett in Elk Grove.

It was just past five.

Lizzy was tired, but she was only fifteen minutes from the Pickett pig farm, and she figured she might as well get this over with so she could cross one more person off the list.




“Third time’s a charm, right?”

“Sure,” Hayley said. “Next person on our list is Tracy Carson.”

“I wonder how Lizzy is doing. I don’t like the idea of her going out alone. She’s obviously exhausted. Otherwise she never would have stormed into that woman’s house.”

“She needs time.”

“And a break from all of this.”

“I agree,” Hayley said.

There was a long pause before Jessica said, “I can’t begin to imagine what Lizzy is going through. When do they actually take Jared off life support?”

“I guess you haven’t heard.”

“What?”

“Jared’s parents have petitioned the court for guardianship of Jared’s health care.”

Jessica sighed. “It just goes on and on.”

Hayley nodded.

“Poor Lizzy.” Jessica pulled the car to the curb across the street from a small Victorian house. “Let’s go,” she said. “I’ll do the talking this time.”

“Sounds good to me.”

As they walked up the pathway, Jessica felt a droplet of rain hit the top of her head. She looked heavenward. The clouds were gray and rippled.

Hayley knocked and a woman opened the door. She was short and frumpy, with thin, disheveled hair and a moth-eaten sweater two sizes too large.

“We’re here to talk to Tracy Carson,” Jessica said.

“Why? What is this about?”

“My name is Jessica Pleiss, and this is Hayley Hansen. We’re doing a story about the Ambassador Club. We were told that Tracy attended Parkview High School. Is she in?”

The woman blinked at them, then sighed. “I’m Tracy,” she said. “And, yes, I did go to Parkview.”

The thirty-year-old woman looked much older than her age. “Any chance we can come in and talk to you for a few minutes?”

“It depends.”

Hayley and Jessica exchanged a quick glance.

“On what?” Jessica asked.

“It depends on if you’re telling the truth or not. Are you really writing a story about that group of good-for-nothing *s, or is this about something else?”

“No,” Hayley said, speaking out before Jessica could answer. “We are not writing a story at all. The truth is we’re doing an investigation.”

“Why did you lie about it?”

Hayley gestured toward Jessica. “It was her idea.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “People are usually more open to talking if it’s for a story.”

“What a load of shit that is,” the woman said. “Truth. Always start with the truth.”

Hayley smirked.

The woman crossed her arms and gave Jessica the once-over. “Come on in,” she finally said.

Tracy Carson moved the newspapers from her tattered couch in the front room and pointed, which meant take a seat.

Jessica noticed that the weeks’ worth of newspapers were all folded to various stories having to do with the recent accidents. “Looks like you’ve been following the Ambassador Club story pretty closely.”