Page 12

Chapter 12

Elise

D ylan turned to face me, moonlight catching his eyelashes and casting shadows over his face. “I know this isn’t fun to talk about, but is there anything Tara could have known that she would have used for blackmail on your dad, or could they have been wrapped up in something else together? I know that all sounds ridiculous, but I just keep thinking there has to be some kind of a connection between her and your dad’s death?”

“No. He’s a knight in shining armor compared to Cruella DeVil over there.” I gestured to the smoke still lingering from Tara’s peel out.

Dylan’s face split into a smile, then fell. “Even knights make mistakes. Are you sure there’s nothing in your dad’s past that Tara could have used against him?”

Ugh. Not this question again. It had kept me awake way more than I could afford lately.

I raised both hands to my temples and rubbed against the building pressure behind my eyes. “I honestly can’t think of anything. I’ve been racking my brain, and nothing comes to mind. What I want to know is how you figured out about the blackmail. I don’t remember telling you about that.”

Dylan bit his lip, avoiding my gaze.

“What?” I asked. “Don’t tell me you know something.”

“Kind of, maybe.”

Rather than grab him by the shoulders and demand answers, I clenched my fists in my lap and waited for him to continue.

“So my dad has this thing against your dad, Coach Pete, and basically anyone who ran on their team in college. It’s the reason why I had to keep running for your dad last year a secret from him, and why I turned down the scholarship Pete offered me. He would seriously disown me if he knew I ran for either your dad or Pete. He’s already freaking out about me coaching with you.”

“That’s weird. Why?”

“Because of my aunt, his sister, Kelly.”

“What, did she used to date both my dad and Pete or something?”

“It’s a lot bigger than that. Believe me when I say I’m not agreeing with my dad or making any kind of accusation about yours. We just need to look at all the angles right now, especially if blackmail is a possibility, and he and Tara have this shared history.”

Dylan bit into a fingernail, watching me as if I might jump out of the car at any moment. Did I want to hear what he was going to say? If it meant finding Dad’s murderer, then yes.

“So my aunt, Kelly died super suddenly. I’m not saying anyone murdered her, but her death was very weird. She was on the college team and doing well. She ran a super good race, came in first out of all the girls. She crossed the finish line and literally just died. They had to carry her body out of the way so the rest of the girls could cross.”

“She won a race and then died? That’s definitely strange, but I don’t get what her team has to do with it. Sounds like one of those freak accidents, no offense. Did they figure out what killed her?”

“They said it was a heart attack.” Dylan tore into a fresh fingernail.

“I’m super sorry to hear that…but I don’t think it has anything to do with my dad. Neither he nor Pete are the kinds of guys that would poison someone. As far as I know, that’s the only way that you can actually cause someone to have a heart attack.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. My dad just insists that at Aunt Kelly’s funeral, everyone from the team acted not just sad, but guilty. He’s convinced that they somehow made it happen.”

A flash of anger burned through my chest. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on taking slow breaths. Dylan was not accusing Dad of murder. He was just being thorough.

“I’m truly sorry for what happened to your aunt, but it still sounds random. Besides, I would think that if anyone on the team had wanted to kill her, it would be the girls she was beating. Didn’t you say she won that race?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, some girls can be very ugly when someone else is doing better than them. Just like Sophie. If your aunt’s death was a murder, which I don’t think it was, it was more likely to have been committed by a girl teammate than a guy.”

Nodding, Dylan ran a hand through his aqua hair. “You’re probably right. I’m just trying to find a connection between your dad and Tara that makes this make sense. She’s just so shady, and like I said, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s connected to your dad’s death.”

Staring at the dark building, I thought through Dad’s interactions with Tara that I’d witnessed. I’d always wondered why after over twenty-years of coaching, he’d decided to hire an assistant coach mid-season last year. The timing was awfully close to when he’d disappeared.

“I’d never seen my dad argue or get annoyed with Tara, did you?” I asked, scanning the vague store interior as if it held answers.

“Nope, but I did notice that he often steered clear of her. He’d be in the middle of giving us instructions, and if she went over by him, he’d casually walk to the other side of the room, or the track, or wherever we were. You never really saw them together.”

Huh. He was right. Dad had politely avoided Tara most of the time. Pretty unusual, considering how social Dad was, especially around his team.

“Now I wish I would have asked him why he hired her. I thought it was weird at the time, but I didn’t say anything about it.”

Dylan started the car. “So, we agree, Tara’s our murderer.”

“That’s not what I said, but she is awfully suspicious.”

The whole drive back, Dylan munched on his nails, pausing occasionally to flick the fragments. I finally told him to knock it off when one of those bits hit me in the cheek.

After pulling up beside my silver Accord, he unexpectedly reached over the center console and grabbed my hand. I froze, looking for anything to focus on beside his face.

“Elise, I wanted to ask you something. I know that this is a tough time for you, so please don’t feel like you need to answer right now.”

Don’t look into his eyes; it’s a trap.

“I was looking at the course description for my English class, and the professor really seems to like poetry. There’s supposed to be a ton of writing and reading, and I’m kind of worried, because when it comes to poetry, I’m hopeless at it. I was wondering if I could ask you some questions, or you could help me sometimes if it gets too hard. With college starting tomorrow, my dad’s already putting a ton of pressure on me to get good grades, or I’m out on the street, with no way to pay for college. What do you think; can you help me?”

My fingers groped for the door handle. “Actually, I’m not really that good at poetry. I know what Pete said, but he’s wrong. English isn’t really my strong suit. Sorry.”

Opening the door, I half fell onto the waiting asphalt. Bessey bounded through the car and out of the passenger seat. I struggled to stand while she vigorously licked my face.

“I’m fine, okay?”

Using my arm as a shield, I fended her off and got to my feet.

“Thanks for showing me that. I’ll have to tell the police about Tara’s connection to the bogus travel agency, so I don’t end up being thrown in jail.”

Before he could argue, I snatched my bag from where it lay on the floor of the car. “I wouldn’t worry about it. The lady I talked to from the rental property management said she’d already spoken to Detective What’s His Bucket earlier. I’m sure they know.”

Again, his hand caught mine. “Hey, I can tell you’re already planning your next move. Please don’t do this alone; it’s dangerous. Let me help you, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.”