"They found the body."
Lacy Jane Oliver froze mid-turn at her perpetually
cluttered desk, the receiver clutched to her ear. They
found the body. Her mouth went incredibly dry as vivid
snatches of memory, snow falling from a dark, starless sky
and murky waters flashed through her mind.
"When?" she heard herself ask. Her voice sounded alien to
her own ears, and Lacy was quite certain her heart had
stilled in her chest. It's been ten years, she didn't say.
She didn't have to. Cassidy knew every bit as well as Lacy
did how long it had been. How could either of them ever
forget?
"Day before yesterday," Cassidy answered without
inflection. "The chief informed Melinda this morning that
the remains had been ID'd. Of course you know that she'll
be their prime suspect. The fact that she was in the
hospital at the time won't keep them from investigating
that avenue," she added with a resigned sigh.
Lacy's chest tightened as her seemingly failed heart now
slammed mercilessly against her rib cage. "Oh God," she
murmured. Though Cassidy was an attorney, it didn't take
one to know that Melinda, the wife of the deceased, would
be the number-one suspect.
"I've already called Kira. We're both taking the next
available flights. We'll meet in Atlanta, then fly home
together."
Home. Despite having lived away for more than ten
years,Ashland,Alabama, was still home...for all of them.
"I'm on my way," Lacy said quickly, instantly ticking off
a mental checklist of all she would need to do to get away
from the office for a few days. "I can probably be there
before either of you."
"Good. Melinda will need you."
Dead air hummed between them for two beats.
"Remember, Lacy," Cassidy finally said in a tone that made
Lacy uneasy. "We've come together during every crisis each
of us has endured. This time, especially, we have to do
the same. Every move we make must be our routine...exactly
what people would expect. We all took the same vow. We're
in this together."
A strange calm settled over Lacy. "I remember. See you
soon," she murmured before hanging up the phone.
The vow...silence.
Ice suddenly filled her veins. Lacy could almost feel the
snow and the sharp slap of the wind against her face. Then
the biting fury of that winter night had stopped so very
abruptly, as if even the wind had known that something was
amiss. There had been nothing but silence...and the vow
they had made to one another.
To stand by one another, protect one another...no matter
the consequences. Equally guilty. * * *
Not much had changed about Ashland, Lacy noted as she
slowed her Explorer to the posted speed limit upon
entering the city limits of her hometown. She had opted to
drive from Atlanta to Ashland, Alabama, after she
discovered that the next available flight going in that
direction was two hours away. Add to that the actual
flying time, luggage pickup and rental-car hassle, and
driving direct had won hands down. Lacy had driven like a
bat out of hell, which pretty much summed up her churning
emotions at the moment, and had managed to make the road
trip in record time.
The ever-lingering odor of sulfur hung in the early June
air and offended her nostrils. The old paper mill, a
couple of textile factories, and a mobile-home
manufacturer lined the western end of Norman C. Ashland
Boulevard.
Ashland. Lacy shuddered as the name ricocheted through
some dark, rarely visited recesses of her mind. She would
not think about that right now. She had to focus on
keeping her cool and supporting Melinda.
Melinda. God, what she must be going through right now.
And the kids. Chuckie was fifteen, but Chelsea was only
twelve, too young to understand any of this and too old to
be blessedly oblivious. Lacy prayed with all her heart
that somehow this whole nightmare would just go away.
Yeah, right, she mused with self-disgust. Murder doesn't
just go away.
Murder.
Why couldn't the bastard just stay buried? Even in death,
he still tormented Melinda. And her, Lacy admitted. Not
one night had passed in the last ten years that she hadn't
thought of that low-life son of a bitch. Not a single one.
And now he was back to haunt her days.
And maybe ruin all their lives.
Lacy slowly maneuvered the narrow streets bordering the
town square. The reconstruction-era courthouse stood
proudly as the centerpiece of Ashland's growing
municipality. Leaves fluttered at the sudden, rare
summer's breeze invitation to dance. A few broke loose
from their lush limbs and floated to the ground only to
rustle along the aging sidewalks. A collage of shops, old
and new, ranging from a turn-of-the-century drugstore with
soda fountain to stylish contemporary boutiques, flanked
the streets surrounding the courthouse. Other than a fresh
coat of paint here and there, and a flashy new business
sign, the town's center looked much the same.
Lacy smiled when she caught a glimpse of three old men
sitting on a park bench on the east side of the square
whittling away at stubs of wood. She wondered if they
could possibly be the same three from her childhood.
She shook her head at her mind's foolish meandering. No
way. Her childhood felt a lifetime away now. Besides, she
hardly knew anyone here anymore. She rarely visited her
parents, once a year at the most, and then only on
Thanksgiving or someone's birthday. Never at Christmas.
Never, ever at Christmas.
She shuddered again. What was Christmas anyway? Just an
opportunity for toy and gadget manufacturers to get rich
by intimidating unsuspecting parents into buying products
their children didn't need. Of all people, Lacy should
know. It was advertising executives like her who paved the
way for just such blatant thievery. Christmas had become
little more than a gimmick. Besides, Lacy Oliver had
little time for family or holidays anymore. She was a
senior partner at Baldwin, Hall and Oliver, one of
Atlanta's top advertising firms.
She didn't need anything Ashland had to offer.
But she had to be here now for Melinda's sake.
For all of their sakes. To protect their secret.
Lacy guided her SUV into the driveway of Melinda's two-
story Colonial-style home. Bride-white siding and classic
black shutters enveloped the two-story home that reigned
amid a backdrop of mature oak and maple trees and
meticulously maintained shrubbery. Long, sturdy columns
stood as sentinels guarding the welcoming entrance.
After shifting into Park, Lacy turned off the ignition.
For a while she simply sat there and stared up at one long
window on the far right of the second floor. The master
bedroom. She swallowed. The image of Charles lying naked
in that ivory porcelain tub with a small, round bullet
hole in the middle of his chest and another higher on his
shoulder loomed large before her eyes. Then her mind fast-
forwarded to the glint of moonlight on his silver Mercedes
as it slipped into the murky depths of the natural lake
that bordered a good portion of the town.
Lacy blinked away the horrible images. Remembered hysteria
climbed into her throat just as it had done that cold,
dark night ten years ago. Disbelief, fear, desperation all
twisted inside her the same way it had then.
What had they done?
She clenched her jaw and reminded herself of what was
really important now. They had to protect Melinda, and one
another. The bastard had deserved to die. Lacy refused to
acknowledge the little voice that always, always nagged at
her battered conscience. She would not regret what she
could not change. The world was a better place without
Charles Ashland. For ten long years he had been a missing
person whom no one missed at all, save for his parents,
who were blind to his evil ways as parents will be with
their own flesh and blood.
But now he was back and poised to destroy the lives of
everyone involved. Everything Lacy had worked for, all she
had hoped and dreamed of was about to go down the toilet.
Self-preservation nudged at her waning determination to no
avail. No matter how she justified their actions, the
bottom line still hammered away at her self-rationalized
defense — murder was wrong regardless of how much the
victim deserved to die.
How had she fooled herself into pretending that what they
had done was somehow right? Nausea roiled in her stomach.
How in God's name had she allowed this to happen?
Everything had spun out of control so quickly. There had
been no time to think, only to react. Now the past, their
desperate act, had caught up with them. The secret they
had watched disappear beneath the glassy black surface of
the water that long-ago night, was now fully exhumed in
the bright, unforgiving light of day.
Charles Ashland, Junior, was dead.
The intricately detailed wood-paneled entrance to the
Ashland home suddenly opened and Lacy got her first
glimpse of Melinda's pale and drawn face. That picture
slammed into Lacy with such force that she jerked with the
momentum of it.
Melinda needed her.
The thought shored up her crumbling resolve, solidified
her emotions. Melinda and the children had to be top
priority now. Her movements deliberate and sure, Lacy
opened the car door and got out. Without taking her eyes
off Melinda, she walked up the sidewalk and steps and
straight to her friend. Fear glittered in Melinda's wide
hazel eyes. The red, swollen rings around them told Lacy
that she had cried all day. Her lips were set in a thin,
grim line, bracketed by furrows of fatigue. Just like
always, her long blond hair was pulled back into a clasp
at her nape. And, just like always, Lacy wanted more than
anything to protect her.
"What are we going to do?" Melinda murmured, then trembled.
Lacy pulled Melinda into her arms and held her tight for
one long moment without answering. She closed her eyes and
wished things had turned out differently. Lacy called to
mind the happy little girls they used to be. She
envisioned the jump rope swinging high over their heads,
pigtails flying, laughter echoing. They had been friends
forever. Nothing could change who they were...or what they
had done.
"We'll do whatever we have to," Lacy whispered roughly.
Tears burned behind her clenched lids as she held her
friend closer to her heart. This was way bigger than the
four of them — children were involved. Innocent children.
How could fate be so very cruel as to resurrect this evil
into their lives? She held on to Melinda and tried not to
consider the answer to her own question.
Lacy took a deep, calming breath as she drew back. "Where
are the kids?"
Melinda brushed at the tears sliding down her
cheeks. "Chuckie's away at school. Summer session just
started. I went first thing this morning to talk to him.
He doesn't..." She cleared her throat. "He doesn't want to
come home while this is going on...he..." Renewed tears
filled her eyes. "He doesn't even want to talk about it.
Chelsea...she's with the Ashlands." She shook her head
slowly from side to side. "She adores them, you know. They
picked her up early this afternoon in case I had to go to —
" she swallowed back a sob " — the chief of police's
office when I got back from visiting Chuckie. They don't
want him to come home, either. I think maybe they've
spoken to him about that already." She shrugged and
lowered her head in defeat. "They don't tell me anything."
Lacy gritted her teeth to hold back the retort she wanted
to make. She had forgotten the Ashlands' insistence that
Chuckie be enrolled in the same private military academy
his father had attended until his high school years. It
hadn't mattered what Melinda wanted. Fortunately this
should be Chuckie's final year away. Charles had started
high school with Lacy and the others his sophomore year.
His son, apparently, would do the same. And, of course,
the Ashlands thought Chelsea was better off with them,
too. Melinda was too common, too weak...too unlike them.
But she was the mother of their grandchildren, so they
tolerated her. Barely.
"What do you think?" Lacy said instead of the litany of
comments she wanted to make about snobbery, arrogance, and
self-centeredness.
Melinda shook her head. "I don't know what I think." Her
gaze connected with Lacy's. "Maybe they're right. Lord
knows I can't think straight right now. I'm scared."
Lacy took Melinda's hands in hers and squeezed. "Cassidy
and Kira will be here soon. We'll take care of this." She
displayed a confident smile that she in no way
felt. "Somehow," she added with feigned reassurance.