Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(29)

Dinner with Coleman? Alone? Just the two of them?

No. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t want someone like Derek Coleman to get too close and see all the broken bits and pieces. She liked and respected him too much. Besides, he’d been married once, which told her he was the settling-down sort who probably wanted to have kids someday. Settling down with one person for too long wasn’t her thing. And the thought of ever having children didn’t appeal to her. She loved her niece and nephew. Would do anything for them. But she could hardly take care of herself, let alone a child. No way.

Sawyer noticed the bookstore next door to the coffee shop. Since she was here, she thought she might as well say hello to the owners, Mr. and Mrs. Russell, and ask them what they remembered about the murders, if anything.

Peering through the window, she saw a woman standing behind the counter. Is that Oliver Quinn?

A bell jingled as Sawyer pushed through the door.

Oliver looked different. A lot different.

He’d always worn his long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, but today he wore it loose in highlighted waves that swept over his shoulders. The beard was gone. His skin flawless. He looked thinner, almost fragile looking.

Oliver and Sawyer had been in the same class growing up. They were the same age, born on the same day. Like a lot of kids in River Rock, Oliver had been through some shit in his life. Teachers and parents thought of him as a troublemaker—the rebellious kid who smoked cigarettes between class and did as he pleased. Other kids were afraid of him, and they called him a warlock because he threatened to put a curse on them if they didn’t leave him alone.

Like Sawyer, Oliver loved to read. Back then he’d gravitated toward dark fantasy with elements of horror and dread, while Sawyer tended toward mystery, anything involving a murder that needed to be solved. They both spent whole weekends in the bookstore, sitting on the floor or on the beat-up couch in the back room, never talking much, simply reading for hours on end. Mr. and Mrs. Russell never kicked them out. The kindly couple simply worked around the misfits in their store as if they belonged there.

Oliver didn’t look up until Sawyer stood right across the counter from him, their faces a foot apart. Oliver finally lifted his head. “Sawyer Brooks?”

Sawyer nodded. “It’s been forever. I can’t remember the last time I saw you.”

“Exactly one week before you left this miserable town for good. You were here at the bookstore, looking for a good read,” Oliver said. “And call me Melanie, or Mel if you’re in a hurry.” Oliver gestured with his hands across the upper part of his body, sort of like the woman on Wheel of Fortune might do before revealing a letter on the board. “Hormone replacement therapy alone didn’t cut it, so I had breast augmentation surgery to help alleviate gender dysphoria and improve my confidence and self-esteem.”

Oliver had always kept to himself. He used to come across as edgy and uptight, so his announcement made sense. Holding secrets and not being able to be yourself would take its toll on most people. Good for him for having the courage to be himself. “Some secrets are too great to keep trapped within yourself,” Sawyer said. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. TMI, I know,” Melanie said. “But life’s too short. For the first time I’m content with who I am. It’s freeing. What about you? What are you up to these days?”

“I’m a crime reporter.”

Melanie chuckled. “That’s why you really came back to River Rock, isn’t it?”

Sawyer was taken aback but quickly composed herself. “It’s definitely part of the reason. I don’t have much time, but if you don’t mind, I would love to ask you about the unsolved murders.”

Melanie crossed her arms over her new chest. The boobs, the voice, the hair and skin—it was hard to believe that this young woman was her old friend Oliver. “You came to the right place,” she said.

Sawyer pulled out her notebook.

“Just last week I heard rumors that Robert Stanley beats his wife on a regular basis.”

“Bob? The mechanic?” Sawyer asked. “That’s horrible, but what does that have to do with the murders?”

“He didn’t just beat her. He pinned her to the ground, chopped off a chunk of her hair, and threatened to kill her if she didn’t behave.”

“Just like the killer did to Peggy and Avery,” Sawyer said.

Melanie nodded. “Exactly.”

An old cuckoo clock on the wall began to chirp, reminding Sawyer it was time to go. “I want to hear more, but I have to go. Will you be around over the next few days to talk about this?”

“Come by anytime. I’ll be here.”

Sawyer stuffed her notebook away and then met her gaze. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.”

When Sawyer got as far as the door, Melanie said, “Be careful.”

Sawyer looked over her shoulder at her. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said.”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It was nearing 11:00 a.m. by the time Malice, Cleo, and Psycho dragged the waiter downstairs and bound him to the leg of the pool table. Psycho fastened pillowcases over both men’s heads, taping the dark fabric around their necks. She’d left plenty of air holes at the sides and back of their heads, so they could breathe but couldn’t see.