Murder at Castle Rock (19 page)

"A whoza whatzit?" I arched a brow. "I'm not exactly what you'd call a 'car person.' Auto terms are like Greek to me."

He gave an understanding nod. "A tie rod is the piece that connects the steering parts of your car to the wheel and axle. It works by turning the wheels when you turn your steering wheel."

"Ah, I see." I thanked him for his assistance and placed the tie rod back on the shelf. I wandered back over to the service lobby and sat back down, remembering how up close and personal I'd almost seen one of those same rods as it was careening toward Tony's windshield. At least now I knew what had been in the bed of the truck: car parts. Did I know anyone who drove a dark truck full of car parts?

I didn't get a chance to see that train of thought through to the end of the tunnel because just then the cashier called me up to the service desk to pay for my repairs and retrieve my keys. I skipped across the parking lot to my Jetta, thankful not to have to ride the bus or catch another ride in a dirty tow truck.

Easing into the driver's seat, I tilted the rear-view mirror to check my reflection—and caught sight of a dark green truck full of tie rods pulling out of the exit behind me. The bed on the truck was wide open, just like the truck from the previous night. Even though it was too dark the night before for me to tell the exact color of the vehicle, my gut told me this was the same pickup truck that we'd chased down the interstate.

Here's my chance!
I whipped out of the parking spot and peeled across the lot, leaving tire marks on the asphalt.
You're not getting away this time!
If I could catch up to the truck driver, I could find out who was snooping around Castle Rock last night. Then maybe I could prove that Kat and Reese were innocent.

I halted at the exit, my head scouring the road for the dark green truck. It was two lights away, heading south. I floored the gas pedal and shot out of the Pep Boys lot. A car narrowly missed T-boning my Jetta as I swerved onto the street in front of him. The angry driver blasted his car horn at me. "Sorry!" I gave a sheepish wave, glancing in my rear-view. I glanced in the mirror to see him flailing his hands about and probably calling me every dirty name in the book.

I tailed the truck from a distance, closing the gap between us from two stoplights to one. We merged onto the freeway and cruised for two exits before turning off in the direction of Castle Rock.
Could he be going back for something else?
I wondered, nervously chewing my thumbnail as I mashed the gas to catch up before the next traffic light. The light at Spring and North turned from green to yellow, and the white Buick in front of me came to a stop. There was a car in the other lane, so I couldn't swerve around them and make it through before the light turned red. "Dammit!" I pounded the steering wheel with a frustrated sigh and jumped as my horn blared its high-pitched
honk!
Whoops
. The driver of the Buick made a show of twisting his upper body around in the driver's seat to give me the stink eye.
Atlanta drivers are so touchy!

After what felt like the longest red light in the history of that intersection, it finally changed to green, and I zipped into the other lane behind a black Xterra, passing Mr. Slowpoke. I drove for a couple more blocks in the same direction, scanning the road for any sign of the truck. I'd lost him. Disappointed, I cruised down North Avenue, debating what my next move should be. The salesman at Pep Boys had mentioned another person looking for tie rods this morning— the driver of the truck must have been there to replace the one he'd lost the night before. Maybe if I went back to the shop, I could ask for a description of the person who'd been looking for them.

As I sat at the next light, debating a return trip to Pep Boys, I absentmindedly scanned the ads on the billboards. The first displayed announced the grand re-opening of one of Owen Jefferson's Florida venues, Rock Beach, with the addition of a new casino on the top floor. The advertisement featured Stacy and her father standing next to a slot machine, with a view of the ocean behind them.
Great
, I thought bitterly.
Now I'll have to see her horrible face every time I drive to Castle Rock.

The next billboard advertised a florist, and it showed a girl in a hospital bed, surrounded by flowers. "Brighten their day," it said.
Hmm. Maybe I should pick some flowers for Laura and her family on behalf of the Castle Rock staff.
Since I couldn't get any work done in my office thanks to Sinclair's orders, I might as well go check on Laura at the hospital. I hadn't heard back from her parents to say that she was awake yet, but I was sure they would appreciate some support. I noted the florist's address on the billboard and turned left onto Peachtree Street at the next light.

The tinny jingling of the doorbell announcing my arrival to the shop, and a tall, perky blonde with a nametag that read "Savanna" greeted me. "Welcome to Floral Finesse! How can I help you today?" she beamed at me as I approached the counter.

"I have a co-worker friend who is in the hospital, and I'd like to order an arrangement for her." I paused and chewed my lip in thought. I didn't know Laura's favorite flower—or what type of arrangement was appropriate to send to someone in the ICU, for that matter. "What would you recommend?"

Savanna flashed me a brilliant smile and stepped around the counter. "In my opinion, seasonal arrangements are always the best bet—something long-lasting, and with a mild fragrance." Her eyes lit up, and she snapped her fingers. "I know just the thing!" She trotted to a table in the back. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I hurried after her, equally excited.

As I watched, Savanna whirled about her worktable, brushing aside stray leaves and petals and gathering some raffia ribbon and a lovely, dark green pot from the shelves behind her. She worked quickly, her nimble fingers flying this way and that, like the Edward Scissorhands of flora. The end result was stunning: a gorgeous arrangement of deep burgundy roses, orange lilies, three sun flowers, and sprigs of autumn leaves filled the green pot. She completed the package by tying a bow of deep yellow raffia around the pot. It matched the rich golden petals of the sunflowers perfectly.

"Whaddya think?" She handed the pot of flowers over to me for inspection.

"It's perfect!" I gushed, admiring the delightful array of fall blossoms. "I'll take it." Savanna carried the arrangement over to the cash register up front and produced from behind the counter a small card and plastic holder. I scribbled a sincere "Get Well" message into the card and signed it, "From your Castle Rock family" before sliding it through the plastic prongs and sticking the holder in the middle of the arrangement.

"That'll be forty-nine dollars and ninety-five cents," Savanna informed me as she punched a few buttons on the cash register. I slid my credit card and signed the slip, and then I was off and on my way again.

I pulled into the parking deck of Emory University hospital at a quarter past two in the afternoon, sticking my parking ticket in the dash before heading back through the sliding doors to the ER. I smiled to myself as I carried the beautiful flower arrangement through the doors, knowing it would brighten Laura's and her mother's days. My smile faded as I approached the lobby, however, and took in the heart-wrenching scene. Theresa Holly was on her knees in the waiting room, sobbing. Her husband, Peter, knelt beside her, gripping her tightly as he shed his own tears. A few nurses and a family member or two that I recognized—like Laura's cousin, Shannon—were crowded around them with grief-filled expressions.

Several heads turned as they registered my arrival. Theresa brushed a few tear-soaked strands of her light brown hair from face. She peered up at me from the floor. The pain in her eyes was enough to spring tears to my own. She stared at me helplessly for a several moments before dissolving into sobs once more. Peter wept into her hair. Shannon broke away from the group and made her way over to me, her grief written all over her face. I knew what she was going to tell me before the words even left her lips. "She didn't make it, Amelia. Laura's gone."

"When did she die?" I asked Shannon fifteen minutes later as we sipped coffee in the hospital cafeteria. My exquisite flower arrangement sat forgotten on a table somewhere back in the lobby, next to the grieving Holly family. I had wanted to offer my condolences but didn't want to intrude on their private moment of sorrow. Shannon graciously offered to step into the cafeteria with me for a cup of joe while I processed the tragic news.

"Only a half hour before you got here." Shannon grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table and dabbed at her tearful green eyes. "She never regained consciousness. She was stable last night after surgery and seemed to be improving, but then this afternoon she was just…gone. Her parents were here in the cafeteria when it happened. They left her room to grab some food—Aunt 'Resa hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday. A doctor came looking for them soon after to tell them the news. Apparently she just stopped breathing."

I wiped away a few tears as I listened to Shannon. I'd lost two friends this week, and my beloved Castle Rock had been shut down until further notice. Still, I couldn't feel sorry for myself at a time like this. Laura's parents had just lost their only child, Reese had lost his girlfriend and his freedom—and Kat had also lost her husband. I needed to pull myself together to be there for my friends now more than ever.

Shannon and I finished our coffee and headed back into the lobby so she could rejoin her grief-stricken family. I hugged her and offered my sympathies, then gestured to the flowers that were still sitting on one of the lobby tables. I retrieved them and discreetly removed the "Get Well Soon" tag I'd placed in the center of the arrangement less than an hour earlier—at around the same time Laura was taking her last breath. "Make sure Theresa gets these." I handed Shannon the green flowerpot and turned to leave.

The coffee wreaked instant havoc on my bladder, so I stopped by the reception area to find where the nearest restroom was located. The young nurse behind the counter was busy typing away at her computer. The desk phone was pinned between her shoulder and her ear. "Yes, Mrs. Collins, I am looking up the room number right now," she said politely into the receiver. She held up a finger to let me know that she'd be with me in a moment. As she turned back to her computer, I studied the visitor sign-in form while I bounced on the balls of my feet, anxious to find the closest ladies' room.

Two names on the visitor's list caught my eye: Tim Scott and Detective Dixon.
Interesting.
Why would Tim Scott come by? Was he hoping to get some juicy details from Laura or her family so he could provide an update during his next broadcast? I must have just missed them—he and Dixon had both signed in less than an hour ago. Dixon had probably been trying to get a statement from Laura. A pang of fresh sorrow ran through me. She'd never be able to tell him who shot her now.

The nurse hung up her call just then and gave me a warm smile. "Sorry about that. What can I help you with today?" She pointed the way to the nearest restroom, and I thanked her before scurrying down the hall.

I heard the door to the ladies' room open as I pulled shut the door to my stall, and as I was washing my hands in the sink a few moments later, I glanced up into the mirror as a familiar face emerged from the stall behind me.

"Emily Almond!" I cried happily, turning to greet my old college friend.

"Amelia Louise Grace? Is that you? Long time, no see!" She spread her arms wide and wrapped them around me in a hug.

Emily Jefferson Almond lived on the same hall as Kat and me in our dorm freshman year. The petite brunette was warm, genuine, and the polar opposite of her wicked cousin, Stacy.

"So good to see you, girl!" I said, pulling out of our hug and holding her at arm's length. "You look fabulous as always—you're positively glowing! What in the world are you doing in the hospital?"

"Haven't you heard the news? I'm expecting!"

"What?"

"I'm pregnant. Preggers. Knocked up. With child. Expecting. Got a bun in the oven," Em deadpanned, then burst into a fit of giggles. She met Jeff first week of college, and they'd practically been joined at the hip ever since. Kat and I teased them constantly, referring to the couple as "Jemily." All kidding aside, Jeff was a great guy and I was thrilled when Em bounded into my apartment senior year sporting a gorgeous engagement ring. She'd asked both Kat and I to be bridesmaids, and, even though Stacy Jefferson had been her maid of honor, I'd accepted and done my best to play nice with Stace during the wedding festivities. The Blonde Bitch of the East hadn't been willing to meet me halfway, of course, and she had made a pretty big scene at the rehearsal dinner, loudly complaining about having to stand next to me during the ceremony. For Emily's sake, I'd just let it slide.

"That's wonderful!" I hugged her again. "Give my congrats to the proud papa, too. How is Jeff, by the way?"

"He's doing great. He was nervous about being a dad at first, but I'm only two months along, and already he's flipping through books about parenting and baby names. He's even talking about turning his study into a nursery!" She scooted past me to wash her own hands in the sink. "He's just a few halls down with the family—we wrapped up my check-up and were about to head to lunch when nature called. I've always been a teeny lady with a teeny bladder, but pregnancy has made it so much worse." She scrunched up her nose. "What're you doing here?"

I didn't have the heart to squash her happy mood with my sad news. "Just visiting a friend," I said, forcing another smile. "It was really great to see you, girl. Let's get together for lunch soon—you, Kat, and me—just like old times."

After parting ways with Emily, I shuffled out to the parking deck, mulling over the week's events in my head. Even with Laura's death fresh on my mind, my thoughts kept drifting back to Parker. All of the trouble started the night that he was pushed from the tower. While the police had their suspects—Reese and Kat—I had a list of suspects of my own, but there was only one name on my list: Shawn Stone. He'd been there the night that Parker fell, and he'd been out in the rain the night that Laura was shot—and had conveniently gone back by the coat closet, where the gun was found planted in Reese's coat pocket. I thought of Jared's warning. He'd said that Stone was dangerous and that I shouldn't go after him alone. Reaching into my purse for my keys, my hand brushed another object. I pulled it out to examine it, and a thought struck me. I knew whom to enlist to help me catch Shawn.