Silent Rain Page 6

  “You left me out.”

  Clare smiled as she dumped a jar of pasta sauce into a small pot. “That’s because I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “Maybe our therapists should compare case notes.”

  “Bolton is a small town. It would surprise me if they didn’t.”

  Lara fished the remote control out from between the couch cushions and pointed it at the television. The punchy theme music of a local newscast filled the room.

  “They’re talking about the fire on the news,” said Lara.

  A female reporter stared into the camera with a suitably grim expression but then stumbled over her lines when she introduced herself and the news channel she was representing. She said something under her breath that might have been a swear word. She took a second to compose herself before speaking again.

  News has just come in from the Bolton Police Department. I can now confirm that they’ve requested assistance from the Montana Department of Justice. Special Investigator Detective Macy Greeley has taken charge of the ongoing investigation into a suspicious fire here on Madison Road that left the historic home behind me in ruins. Detective Greeley arrived in Bolton this morning to confer with crime scene investigators. I spoke to her briefly.

  They’d interviewed Macy Greeley with the wreckage of the Granger’s home in the background. Her red hair hung down to her shoulders. She took time to correct the young reporter on several occasions. They’d not identified the fatalities, and as of yet there was no definitive proof that the fire was the result of arson.

  I understand that this is a very stressful time for Peter and Hannah Granger’s friends and family and we wish to apologize for the delay in getting answers to those parties who most need them. Macy Greeley pointed to the house. Part of the upper floors and a supporting wall have collapsed, so authorities have had only limited access to the property so far, but we have a team working flat out to secure the building so the victims can be removed for proper identification.

  We’re making a direct appeal to the Bolton community. The fire occurred on Halloween night. There were a lot of people out on the streets. If you witnessed any suspicious activity in and around Madison Road we need to hear from you. The Bolton PD has set up an information hotline. I can personally assure you that everything you tell us is confidential. We would greatly appreciate your help.

  The interview ended as abruptly as it began. The cameras followed the detective as she made her way back to what remained of the Granger’s home. Grace took the remote control off the coffee table and hit reverse. She paused at a close-up of Macy Greeley’s face.

  Macy Greeley had changed over the past three years and it wasn’t just the faint lines around her eyes. She’d been pregnant when they met so Grace remembered her having a fuller face and an open, almost mischievous expression. Now she was all angles and cheekbones. She also had a barely veiled air of impatience. It wasn’t just her appearance that had changed. Grace sensed that Macy Greeley wasn’t the same person who’d come to Collier to investigate her mother’s murder. The sharp edge in Macy’s voice was new.

  “She’s that cop we saw earlier at the house,” said Lara.

  Grace didn’t answer. She turned around. Clare was heading for the door with an unlit cigarette in her hand.

  “I’m going out for a few minutes,” she said.

  Lara’s hair was sticking out at odd angles. She brushed it away but static sent it shooting up in the air again. For a few seconds she looked like a child but then she spoke. Her voice was too hoarse to belong to someone so young.

  “Grace, is that the cop you were telling me about? The one who was in Collier when your mother was killed?”

  “Yep, it’s her.”

  “You should have talked to her this afternoon. She may have told you what’s going on with the investigation.”

  “I haven’t spoken to her for a long time. I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  Grace, Lara, and Clare had held a vigil in front of the Granger’s house until three in the morning and then returned at noon carrying coffee cups and bouquets of flowers to leave at a makeshift shrine that a neighbor had organized. They weren’t the only people standing at the police cordon. Several Bolton College faculty members and at least a dozen students Grace recognized from the art department were also there. Jessica Reynolds was Hannah’s closest friend and worked the art department’s administration offices. She’d kept apart from the others, her eyes never leaving the house.

  Grace had already been anxious, and seeing Macy Greeley again had done nothing to calm her nerves. She’d had to make a real effort to not openly stare at the detective. They’d first met when Macy came to interview Grace in the hospital where she was recovering from hypothermia following her mother’s murder. Macy had jotted down everything Grace said in a black notebook. It was the same sort of book she’d held in the crook of her arm as she moved among the team investigating the fire. Much had happened to Grace since their first meeting, a lot of it painful.

  Lara asked Grace if she was okay.

  Grace didn’t want to talk about Collier. She picked up her cell phone. The number of messages in her in-box had been growing steadily since dawn. Everyone was talking about Peter, Hannah, and what had happened at K-Bar. At least three people had died last night. This was a small town where people rarely locked their doors. Grace knew what it was like to live in a place where people didn’t trust their neighbors. She didn’t want Bolton to change.

  “Does she know you live here?” asked Lara.

  “I don’t see how she would. I’ve moved since the last time I saw her. I am on Peter’s class list though.”

  “You’ve been going by Grace Larson. She won’t know it’s you.”

  Grace shrugged. “She knows Larson is my father’s surname. It’s only a matter of time before she makes the connection.”

  “Why would the writing workshop interest her anyway?”

  “Everything interests her. She’s kind of scary that way.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You didn’t do anything wrong,” said Lara.

  “You were all there. I threatened to kill him the night he kicked me out.”

  “That may be so, but we’re not going to say anything.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” asked Clare. She pointed to the frozen image of Macy Greeley on the television screen. “Grace, do you know that woman?”

  Clare stood in the open door. Neither Grace nor Lara had heard her come back inside. Grace was suddenly worried what Clare may have overheard.

  Lara didn’t give Grace a chance to respond. “Grace, maybe Peter was right about what happened back in Collier. Maybe it’s time you quit hiding from the truth.”

  “Lara, you’re the last person who should talk about the truth,” said Clare.

  “What do you mean by that?” asked Lara.

  Grace tried to say something but Clare wouldn’t let her. “It wasn’t just Taylor that was in love with Peter, it was all of us. He’d play us off each other. It’s how he got his kicks and you fell for it every time.”

  Lara turned off the television. “That’s total bullshit.”

  “Well, maybe it wasn’t love, but you would have done anything for him if you thought it would help you get your book published. He used you just like he used the rest of us,” said Clare.

  It was unusual for Clare to confront anyone directly. Passive aggression was more her style. Grace kept a wary eye on Lara. There was nothing passive about her aggression. When she was cornered she liked to throw things.

  “You were always his favorite until you weren’t anymore,” said Clare. “Admit it, Lara. You freaked out when he started paying Grace more attention than you. Must have been particularly galling since you’re the one who introduced them.”

  “I freaked out?” said Lara. “Look in the mirror, Clare. I’m not the freak, you are.”

  Clare pulled off her hat and threw it at Lara. It was worse than Grace had imagined. Clare was pr
actically bald.

  “Congratulations,” said Clare. “Pick on the girl who’s lost her hair. I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve sunk to a new low.”

  Lara jumped up from the sofa and grabbed her coat. “I’m going for a drive.” She addressed Grace. “Call me when Clare is gone.”

  * * *

  Grace quietly shut her bedroom door behind her and turned on the desk lamp. Her sketchbook was open to a drawing she’d done the day before. Bent over by the driving wind, a man struggled to stand upright on an ice-crusted river. She’d filled a sketchbook with drawings of this same scene but was nowhere near to getting it right. She turned to a blank page but, instead of picking up a pencil, she picked up her cell phone.

  Grace dialed Pippa’s number in Wisconsin and waited patiently as a phone rang a thousand miles away. Although she’d known them socially, Grace hadn’t become close friends with Pippa, Taylor, and Clare until after she’d been invited to attend Peter Granger’s writing workshop. Grace had never really felt like she belonged there. Where Grace only managed a few paragraphs of scrappy prose, the others churned out whole chapters and complete short stories on a weekly basis. Every Tuesday evening Peter Granger would sit in his leather chair, a cigarette in one hand and their fate in the other. If he was in a particularly foul mood he’d pick their work apart one sentence at a time. He’d make them account for every sentence, every word. If it didn’t bring some depth to the prose it was superfluous. If it didn’t draw from their lives it wasn’t real. If he didn’t see truth in their writing he’d dismiss it as mediocre. He’d praised Grace’s work even though it was clearly shit. There was always someone who was his favorite and apparently it had been Grace’s turn. Grace had lasted eight whole weeks in the top spot before Peter lost his temper and admitted the only thing he’d ever been interested in was her past.

  Pippa’s father answered the phone. Grace had last seen Pippa’s parents when they’d come to collect their daughter at the hospital where she’d spent two weeks recuperating after having a nervous breakdown. They’d not dealt well with their daughter’s sudden decline.

  “Hello, Mr. Lomax. It’s Grace Larson, Pippa’s friend. I wondered if I could speak to her.”

  “Grace, thanks for calling, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  Grace’s voice broke. “How is she?”

  Mr. Lomax sighed. “Hard to say. She’s still pretty heavily medicated. She’s in therapy twice a week.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Grace. “I miss her.”

  “So do we. She’s not the same girl we dropped off at the dorms three years ago.”

  “Has she talked at all about what happened?”

  “Some.” He paused. “The police called earlier. We know about the fire. I suppose they thought she may have been involved.”

  Grace remembered the day the judge had issued a restraining order against Pippa. She’d been stalking Peter for weeks. If she wasn’t camped out in a car in front of his house she was calling him hundreds of times a day. It all came to head one night in late September. Peter claimed she’d become violent when he’d threatened to call the police.

  “I wasn’t going to say anything to her about that,” said Grace. “It’s just brought it all back. I wanted to know that she was okay.”

  “I know my daughter, or at least I thought I did until she developed this crazy obsession with Peter Granger. People tell me he’s charismatic but I just don’t see it. I can’t believe she’d have taken things so far without there being something in it. Grace, if you know something, please tell us.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Lomax, but she never said anything to me about it. Have you managed to get her to talk?”

  “Her therapist thinks she’s blocking out some traumatic experience.”

  “Maybe if I spoke to her.”

  “I’m sorry but that’s not going to happen.”

  “Will you tell her I miss her?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Grace put her cell phone on her bedside table and covered her face with her hands. She knew Pippa was in the right place. She had a large and loving family. Grace had gone home with her at the end of August for a two-week visit. They’d shared a little apartment over the garage at a sprawling house her extended family had rented on Lake Winnebago. Long days were spent canoeing and swimming with Pippa’s siblings and cousins and when the sun went down they’d spend hours talking. There were signs that Pippa’s obsession with Peter Granger was already getting out of hand, but when Grace tried to make her see him for who he really was, Pippa wouldn’t listen.

  Lara was supposed to come on the trip, but Peter and Hannah had asked her to housesit for them at the last minute. Instead of spending time with her friends, Lara was stuck by herself for two weeks in the house on Madison Road.

  4

  Tuesday

  Jessica Reynolds, an administrator who worked in the Bolton College art department, led Macy into Hannah Granger’s office on the fourth floor. Macy wasn’t sure whether Jessica was wearing black because she was in mourning or if it was how she normally dressed. Either way, it didn’t suit her pale complexion. Macy had seen murder victims with more life in their eyes. Jessica guided Macy into Hannah’s office and quietly shut the door behind them. There was a picture of Jessica and Hannah prominently displayed on the bookshelf. Hannah was petite, tan, and had straw-colored hair that hung past her shoulders. Jessica was a good six inches taller and looked uncomfortable wearing a dress, but had smiled broadly for the camera.

  Jessica may have kept her arms locked around her body but her eyes touched on one object after another. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Did she give you any indication that she might be going out of town?” asked Macy.

  “She would have asked me to find someone to cover her classes if that were the case.”

  “Did that happen often?”

  “Not particularly.” Jessica started to pick up a small sculpture on the desk but her fingers froze short of the mark. “I don’t understand why you’d want to search her office.”

  “Her studio and much of the house were destroyed. Aside from her husband’s office at the Bridger Cultural Center, this may be all we have to go on.”

  “Was all her work destroyed?”

  “I doubt anything can be salvaged.”

  Jessica steadied her voice. “There’s something you’re bound to find out so I want to be the one to tell you. I don’t want it to seem like I was hiding anything.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Hannah and I were in a relationship. She’d recently decided to leave Peter.”

  “Up to this point, I’ve not heard anyone say there were problems in their marriage.”

  Jessica shrugged. “It wasn’t something they talked about openly.”

  “Do you know if Hannah had spoken to Peter yet?”

  “She’d been putting it off, but she’d promised to do it soon.”

  “You must have found that frustrating.”

  “I understood her reluctance. Peter and Hannah have been together a long time. There’s also a business side. They’re almost like a brand. It’s hard to break free from that.”

  “Why did Hannah want to leave him? Was it just to be with you or was there something else going on?”

  “Hannah wasn’t wired to make rash decisions. She also wasn’t prone to gossip. She would only say that she didn’t trust Peter anymore, that he’d crossed some line. She didn’t say what that line was.”

  “I need to ask where you were last night.”

  Jessica walked over to the big windows. The college’s football stadium glowed in the distance. “I was home. I live alone.”

  “Were you on your own all evening?” asked Macy.

  “Pretty much. Downtown Bolton tends to become a bit of a zoo on Halloween so I avoid going out.”

  “Did any children come to your door?”

  “I forgot to buy candy so I kept the lights off and hid in
my bedroom.”

  “Were you online?”

  “For about an hour early evening, say around six to seven. Later I read and watched television. I only found out about the fire when one of my colleagues phoned me.”

  “What time was that?”

  “A little after one. My cell phone was switched off so they called my house phone.” She paused. “I thought it was my sister calling about our mother. She hasn’t been well.”

  “When did you start seeing Hannah?”

  “Two years ago. It was pretty soon after I started working here.”

  “That’s a long time to be in limbo. It must have been difficult to keep it a secret. Did people know about it?”

  “There were rumors. I can’t say I went out of my way to stop them from spreading.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I told Hannah I was happy to wait, but in truth I wanted it to all come out in the open. I was hoping she’d finally leave Peter when it did.”

  “A risky strategy. When was the last time you spoke to Hannah?”

  “She called me on Saturday morning but there hasn’t been anything since then, which isn’t unusual. She didn’t have classes over the weekend so she wasn’t around the university. I figured she was in her studio. She’s very focused when she’s working.” Jessica studied the photo on the bookshelf. “I really can’t accept that she might be gone.”

  “What is her schedule this week?”

  “She doesn’t have anything on Mondays but today she was scheduled to give a lecture and hold office hours.”

  “Has she ever missed a lecture?”

  “No,” she said. “This is the first time.”

  * * *

  Macy rested her head on Hannah Granger’s desk and closed her eyes for a couple of seconds. Outside, the football stadium’s loudspeaker echoed across the floodlit pathways that crisscrossed the university. It was coming up on eight o’clock in the evening, but it felt more like midnight.

  “Most of this is class notes and student evaluations,” said Macy, waving a hand over the files she’d pulled from Hannah’s desk drawers and cabinets. “Nothing stands out.”