Gilt Hollow (15 page)

Mrs. McNachtan clicked on the back arrow and played from the part where the guy first arrived at the locker.

“There's something in his hand,” Lisa pointed out.

“Yeah.” Brayden leaned close, his arm pressed against Willow's shoulder. “Looks like he had the combination written down.”

They watched as he loaded the locker full of papers, slammed the door, and took a spray can from his bag, then turned and appeared to say something. Unfortunately, the video had no sound. “Pause it!” Willow rested her elbows on the desk and stared at the frozen image facing them. All dark clothing—boots, cargo pants, leather jacket.

“Does that look like anyone you know?” Mrs. McNachtan asked.

Willow slumped back. It couldn't be. Someone had dressed like Ashton to purposefully let him take the fall. She shook her head. “No.”

The principal glanced between them. “Lisa? Brayden?”

Digging her fingers into the seat cushion, Willow waited for Brayden to throw Ashton under the bus. Both her friends had to have noticed Ashton's usual uniform, but she had faith that Lisa would stay quiet.

“No, ma'am.” Brayden's answer sent a shock wave over Willow's skin, but she forced herself not to react. Why would he protect someone he clearly despised?

“Me either,” Lisa echoed. “Could be anybody.”

“Okay, then. Well, thank you for your . . . er . . . concern.” Willow met Mrs. McNachtan's artificial green gaze, enhanced by contacts. How had she never noticed the woman was such a character? “You should all get to lunch before the period ends.”

Bumping into each other in their haste to exit the principal's office, they reached the hallway and collapsed against the cool tile wall.

“Why did you do that?” Willow turned to Brayden. “Why did you cover for him?”

He faced her, one shoulder propped against the wall, his eyes glinting with emotion. “Don't you know?”

“Well, that's my cue.” Lisa started down the hall. “Call me later, Willow.”

Brayden brushed Willow's upper arm with the back of his knuckles. “I like you, Willow. And I want to see where this thing can go between us. You told me I had to deal with Ashton being part of your life, and that's what I'm doing.”

“Do you think that was him? In the video?”

His gaze flicked to something behind her head and then shifted back to her. “It looked like him. Don't you think?”

The height and broad shoulders could have been any number of boys at their school, and everyone knew Ashton wore a variation of the same outfit every day—easy to emulate. But she could also be avoiding the obvious. What was it her grandpa used to say?
If it walked like a duck and quacked like a duck . . .

“Yes, but if it was him, I don't understand his motivation.”

Brayden shrugged off the wall and held out his hand. She only hesitated a second before linking her fingers with his. As they walked, he theorized, “Maybe Isaiah put up the flyers and Ashton saw this as a way to get back at him.”

Then something she'd seen that morning clicked into place—Isaiah and the kid who'd taken Ashton's picture both played the sousaphone in the marching band. Isaiah would know the boy needed money for their Disney World trip. He also had Willow's SnapMail address.

“But regardless,” Brayden continued. “Keller has more to worry about than a stupid vandalized locker. I heard his motorcycle was spotted parked behind Twisted Beauty late last night, after the store was closed.”

Doubts swirled in Willow's mind, mixing with what Ashton had told her about his time in juvie. It had changed him, made him into a person who took what he wanted, forced it if necessary. She'd seen that firsthand at Gino's. How well did she really know the person he had become?

“Do you think we can try again?”

Willow's attention snapped back to the boy holding her hand. “I'm sorry. What did you say?”

Brayden squeezed her fingers and pulled her to a stop. “I'd like to take you out.” His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled. “On a real date this time.”

Whatever was going on with Ashton was out of her control, but this boy liked her without any strings attached. He was normal. “Yes. That sounds nice.”

Brayden's eyes danced. “Great! I'll pick you up tonight at seven.”

■ ■ ■

Willow sat ensconced in the deep leather chair, her feet propped on the table, history text unread in her lap. A glittering beam of late-afternoon sunlight slanted through the window and across the face of the empty fireplace. Mom had taken Rainn to the library, and as the monotonous tick of the grandfather clock droned into the quiet, all the sleep Willow had missed in the last weeks weighed down her eyelids.

She almost ignored the soft ping when it sounded from deep inside her bag, but when it happened again she recognized the generic signal. Pulling her legs off the table, she
grabbed her phone and swiped in the code. Two pending messages on SnapMail.

With trembling hands, she clicked the icon. The text was from the same unidentified sender as before.

If you defend Keller to the police . . .

The next message was a picture of Rainn walking down the sidewalk alone. Willow's hands shook so hard, she dropped her phone.

As she reached down to pick it up, the text and picture disappeared, and a bang sounded on the front door. Taking a deep breath to steady her pulse, she stood on unsteady legs and walked into the foyer. Not sure if she should open the door, she called, “Who is it?”

“Gilt Hollow PD.”

Her first thought was that something bad had happened to Mom and Rainn. She threw the dead bolt and flung open the door. “What is it? Is everything okay?”

Chief Kagawa and a deputy whose name badge read “Simms” waited straight-faced on the porch. Simms inclined his head. “Yes, Ms. Lamott, we just have a few questions for you regarding a pending case.”

“Can we come in, Willow?” The chief slid the hat off of his buzzed head and held it in front of him with both hands.

“Of course.” Her mind racing, Willow stepped aside as they entered the foyer. They had to be here to question her about Ashton. Had they figured out he'd been living here? Had he told them?

“Is your mother at home?” Kagawa asked.

Thank the Lord, no. “She took Rainn to the library for a Lego building thing.” Willow's heart clunked against her ribs as she led them into the front parlor, hoping the formal
atmosphere would discourage them from lingering. She'd noticed that Ashton had done the same when his probation officer had visited.

The cops perched on the edge of the narrow Victorian loveseat, and Willow sat in the opposite chair, folding one leg beneath her. The turret room smelled of old wood and lemon polish. To calm her racing heart, Willow focused on the curio cabinet behind the officers and imagined herself as a well-born lady serving tea to the local constables. Picturing them in the old-fashioned domed hats they would have worn in the 1800s almost made her smile.

Chief Kagawa took out a tiny black notebook, then crossed his legs and pinned Willow with an unblinking stare. “Just a few quick questions, Willow. Nothing of an official capacity.”

She folded her arms around her middle and then, deciding it made her appear defensive, unfolded them and laced her fingers in her lap. If this was so “unofficial,” why did she feel like she was one wrong word away from her fingers being pressed in ink?

“You've been spotted around town with Ashton Keller. Is it safe to assume that you've resumed your friendship?” The smile that lifted the chief's lips didn't reach his eagle-sharp gaze.

“Sure.” She shrugged a shoulder, figuring vague was best.

“It must be kind of . . . odd for him that you and your family are living in his ancestral home.” He gestured to the two-story ceiling of the old Victorian.

Working to keep her voice casual, she replied, “Not really. He understands my mom took the caretaker job and is working to fix the place up.”

“She's doing an excellent job,” Officer Simms chimed in, earning a glare from his boss.

“Er . . . thanks.” Willow addressed the younger cop. “She's hired a contractor to start repairs and painting on the outside.”

The chief nodded absently while staring at his notebook. “Can you tell me where Ashton's been staying since his return to Gilt Hollow?”

Willow felt the color drain from her face. She covered with a smile. “No, well . . . he said he's been staying with various friends.”

“Huh. He told me the same thing, but I wasn't aware he had any friends in town besides Jeff White.” He raised his head. “And you.”

Penelope Lunarian sprung to mind, but as much as Willow despised the girl, she wouldn't drag her into this. She remained silent.

“Has Ashton mentioned being short on money since he returned?”

“No.”

“How is it that he has disposable cash, do you think?” He tapped his pen against the notebook.

If Ashton had spent all afternoon in jail, surely he'd already answered all of these questions. “I don't know.”

“Apparently he sold a valuable album to Jeff, something from his grandmother's collection.” He looked up again. “What I'm wondering is how he got ahold of it.”

Because he broke in here and took it from the attic.
Although it was rightfully his, she wouldn't do him any favors by being honest. “I let him in so he could collect whatever of his things he needed.”

“Was your mother aware you let Ashton into the house?”

Dang.
He was good.

“I don't think so . . . no.”

“Where were you last night from midnight to seven o'clock this morning?”

She blinked. Twisted Beauty must have been robbed sometime between those hours. But the missing Pop-Tarts that morning told Willow that Ashton had been in the house, even if she couldn't be sure what time he'd arrived. Meeting Chief Kagawa's gaze, she replied, “I was here.”

“Sleeping?”

She sat straight and put both her feet on the floor. “I don't see how that's any of your business.” And that's when she realized she was going to lie. That she would perjure herself to keep Ashton safe.

Kagawa's brows raised a fraction. “Do you know where Ashton Keller was between the hours of midnight and seven?”

Willow opened her mouth and then snapped it shut, remembering the warning she'd received seconds before the police had arrived. Would they really harm Rainn if she defended Ashton? If the messages were from Isaiah Kagawa, as she suspected, she couldn't imagine him hurting an innocent person, especially considering his father was the chief. But if Ashton went back to jail, it wouldn't be juvie this time; it would be adult prison.

She could not lose him again.

Channeling the stress and fear she'd experienced in the last twenty-four hours, Willow stared into her lap. When she looked up, her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. “Is what I tell you confidential?”

Chief Kagawa uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “Of course.”

“Ashton was here . . . with me . . . all night.”

Y
ou questioned Willow, didn't you?” Ashton pushed off the table and sprung to his feet.

“I'd shut up and be happy I'm letting you go.” Kagawa stood, arms crossed, by the open interrogation room door.

Ashton glared at the man and forced himself to relax his hands. “What did she say?”

“She gave you an alibi for the time of the robbery.” The chief stepped to the side. “Now go, before I change my mind.”

Ashton walked out of the tiny, windowless room and let out a heavy breath.

“By the way, I checked into who posted those flyers of you, but the security cameras in town didn't reveal any new information.”

Ashton gave a tight nod. He doubted Kagawa had lost any sleep over it.

“Deputy Simms will give you a ride to pick up your motorcycle.” The chief shut the door and then turned to him with a smile that might have been genuine. “It's a gorgeous bike. Where'd you get it?”

For once, the question didn't sound like an accusation. “My grandpa Willard left me his collection. The rest are stored in the garage at Keller House.”

“Oh yeah?” Kagawa's brows arched up. “What else you got in there?”

“A couple Harleys, a BMW café racer, and a 1963 Triumph Bonneville.”

“No! A Steve McQueen edition?”

Ashton almost smiled when the chief's eyes lit up like Christmas morning. “Yeah. They all need work.” Ashton shrugged. “Maybe after I inherit the house, I'll start working on them.”

His cop face sliding back into place, Kagawa's jaw set and his brows lowered. “When's that?”

Working hard not to get defensive, Ashton began to stroll toward the door where Deputy Simms waited in his cruiser just outside. “When I turn twenty-one, the house becomes mine along with a trust my grandparents left me.”

“That's why you came back here.” Kagawa walked beside him, and they both paused at the glass doors.

“Partly.” Ashton met the chief's eyes, almost wanting him to dig deeper. When the time came, he would need this man to do his job. Maybe a part of the chief knew Ashton had returned to find the true killer, and that his son was on the list of possibilities. That's why he wanted Ashton gone. But that wasn't going to happen. “Well, this has been fun, and the saltines and water I had for lunch were fantastic, but a little more nourishment is in order.”

Ashton pushed against the door, but Kagawa stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Be careful with Willow Lamott.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “She's a good one.”

And you're not.
The unspoken words hung in the air between them. Ashton met the chief's stare and had to unclench his jaw before he could answer. “I'm well aware.”

With a curt nod, the chief released him. Ashton pushed into the windy evening and took a deep draw of the crisp fall air before sliding into the backseat of the cruiser. As they took off, he watched the sun sink toward the horizon, the sky exploding with red, orange, and gold—flushing the treetops in glorious pink. The fiery colors reminded him of Willow's
cheeks when he'd held her in his arms. He could paint her face from memory, the way she'd looked at him that night.

Whatever she'd told the cops had saved him. His lips lifted in an astonished smile that quickly dissolved into a grimace of determination. He'd risk anything for her, but he couldn't allow her to do the same. The closer he got to the truth, the more dangerous he became. His chest tightened like a vise around his heart. He knew what he had to do.

• • •

A cool evening breeze pushed against Willow's skin, and she tugged a sweater over her shoulders as Brayden held open the door with a smile. He'd picked her up in his dad's BMW and taken her to Gale's.
Gale's.

They'd just finished one of the best meals of her life—pan-seared, wild salmon with melt-in-your-mouth tomato risotto and fresh-baked bread. She could still taste the cream of the house-made herb butter on her tongue.

“You know what I'm craving?” Brayden asked as he draped his arm over her shoulders and steered her down the tree-lined street.

“Are you serious?” Willow chuckled. “What could you possibly want after that enormous helping of squash and pumpkin lasagna?” She'd thought what he'd ordered sounded gross, but when he'd given her a taste, her eyes had rolled back in her head, confirming that everything at Gale's was off-the-charts amazing.

“There's always room for ice cream.”

“Okay, but I have to go home and change first. I'm about to pop a seam in this dress.” Willow inhaled, the scents of
roasted coffee and wood smoke mixing with the fresh night air. Orange globe lights hung from the trees like fat pumpkins, casting Main Street in a soft glow as people strolled arm in arm, ducking in and out of shops and restaurants, their laughter punctuating the night. In was surreal how much downtown Gilt Hollow resembled a small town television drama—or whodunit mystery, as the case may be.

Brayden's fingers squeezed her upper arm, and she glanced at him as they walked. “No changing. You look too gorgeous. Have I told you how good you look in red?”

Willow grinned. “Maybe once or twice.”
Or ten times.
When she'd put on the red halter dress in her room, she'd taken one look in the mirror and changed into jeans and a sweater set. The dress was beautiful, and way out of her comfort zone. But she was sick to death of her comfort zone, and Brayden had advised her to dress nice. So she'd compromised by wearing it with a cardigan and boots instead of sandals. When she'd opened the front door, Brayden's face had lit up and she knew her risk had paid off.

Their dinner had been nice. She'd learned that his parents had been high school sweethearts who graduated from Gilt Hollow High, and that he had an adopted sister. His dad was a sales rep at a local environmental company, where his mom worked part-time in accounting. They had family game nights and went to the beach every summer, where Brayden had fallen in love with the ocean and decided to become a marine biologist. The conversation had flowed easily, but now an awkward silence descended.

“Have you heard from Ashton?”

The question caught Willow off guard, causing her to trip over the uneven sidewalk. Brayden looped an arm around
her waist and pulled her close. “Whoa, no more root beer for you, young lady.”

“Sorry, I didn't see . . .” Willow's words trailed off with her thoughts. She'd done her part to help Ashton, and she prayed her false alibi had been enough for Chief Kagawa to release him, but she wished Brayden would drop the subject.

“I heard he was at the station all afternoon. His bike was still parked at school when I left.”

No such luck. Unsure of what to say, she nodded.

“Why do you think he came back here? To Gilt Hollow, I mean.”

Willow's back stiffened, a buzz sounding in her brain that felt like a warning. “I don't know.”

They stopped as a crowd spilled out of Neon Art Theater, and Brayden turned her to face him. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

But Willow read something besides contrition in his searching gaze, something that made his throat contract and his neck turn red.

A boisterous group exited the theater dressed in Victorian costumes, the women wearing extravagant bustled gowns and elaborate feathered hats, the men in pinstripes and tall fedoras. They were singing “I Could Have Danced All Night.”

Willow stretched up on her toes to watch the spectacle as they danced across the street. “I forgot they were showing
My Fair Lady
. It's one of my mom's favorites.”

Brayden walked around to meet her gaze, blocking her view of the parading minstrels. “I'm sorry, okay? I was just curious.”

Willow wasn't sure that he was being entirely honest. Ashton's return clearly made him uncomfortable. But if he expected her to feed him information on her ex–best friend,
he would be greatly disappointed. What little she knew she would keep to herself. “Can we not talk about him tonight, please?”

His chestnut eyes searched hers. “Of course. But if you ever feel like talking, I'm—”

A familiar voice cut off Brayden's comment. “Willow?”

She turned to find her mother and, just beyond, Pastor Justin holding her little brother's hand. “Mom? What are you doing here?”

Her mom smiled sheepishly, her cheeks flushing pink. “Rainn and I ran into Jus—” She glanced up and exchanged a look with the man beside her. “We ran into
Pastor
Justin at the library and . . . um . . . he likes musicals too, so we decided to see the movie . . . er . . . together.”

Willow lifted a hand in a lame wave. The man who'd baptized her, taught her the books of the Bible, and performed her dad's funeral nodded, not appearing in the least uncomfortable. “Hi, Willow.”

Some part of her had suspected her mom's friendship with the never-married minister could turn into more, but the twist in her gut every time she thought about it made her push the idea away.

“Hi, Mrs. Lamott. I'm Brayden Martin.” Her date reached out and shook her mom's hand.

“Hi, Brayden. I remember you.”

After a round of reintroductions, Rainn tugged on Pastor Justin's hand. “Come on, guys. I'm starving!”

“Okay, buddy.” Mom turned back to Willow, her eyes sparking with curiosity and perhaps a bit of something else. “We promised Rainn a burger if he sat quietly in the movie. So we better go. See you at home, by eleven?”

“Sure.” Willow watched the threesome stroll away, her
mom walking close beside the tall pastor. It hadn't escaped Willow's notice that her mom had referred to them as “we.”

Maybe she wasn't the only one keeping secrets.

• • •

Ashton pulled up to the curb just outside of the Dairy Shed's fluorescent glow and parked behind a VW Bug covered from fender to wheel in bumper stickers. Political and social statements screamed from the vehicle like a poster board for public activism. Save the Trees. Wake Up and Smell the Fascism! Support Organic Farmers. PEACE! Coexist. Hang Up and Drive!

It was so Gilt Hollow that Ashton grinned.

He shut off the engine and lowered the kickstand, reaching back to assist Penelope as she dismounted. After his near arrest, he'd resisted the urge to return to Keller House, and Willow. If he had any hope of separating her from this mess, he would need to put as much distance between them as possible.

Penelope unhooked her helmet, balanced it on the handlebar, and grabbed Ashton's hand. “I love this place! Don't you just love this place?”

Ashton offered her a smile as he climbed off the bike. “Sure.”

Hanging with Penelope Lunarian wasn't exactly a chore, but tonight her joyous optimism grated on his nerves. His date skipped into the line, tugging her with him. “What's your favorite flavor? No, wait. Let me guess.” Penelope tapped a finger against her pursed lips as she scanned the list of current offerings. The Dairy Shed always had a few exotic flavors mixed in with the usual chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry.

“I bet you like chocolate, but not plain chocolate . . .”

A dark-haired little girl in front of them ordered vanilla with extra sprinkles, and Ashton no longer stood with Penelope.

Willow takes a huge lick of ice cream, coating her tongue in rainbow colors, and then props a hand on her narrow hip with a glare. “Why would I try something else when I know what I like?”

“Because getting the same thing every time is boring!”

Shesmirks, vanilladrippingdownherchin.“How're you liking that lavender lemonade sorbet, Mr. Adventurous?”

Ashton takes a huge bite and fights the sour puckering his lips, but his eye squints, betraying him.

Her uninhibited laughter tugs his mouth into a grin.

“. . . Peanut butter and chocolate? Ashton, are you listening to me?”

A sharp yank on his arm brought him back to the present and the girl staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Um, yeah, that's good.”

With ice cream in hand, they crossed the street to the town square, where couples lounged on blankets, a vendor sold kettle corn out of a converted wagon, and the town troubadour—as he liked to call himself—strummed a guitar and sang what sounded like a mash-up of Willie Nelson and Nirvana. They found a table inside a large gazebo covered in tiny lights and fall garland, and sat across from each other.

Penelope ate her kiddie cup of pistachio in uncharacteristic silence. That suited Ashton's mood perfectly. He barely tasted the salty-sweet Reese's sundae, which a few weeks ago had been the object of his dreams, as his mind ran over the
events of the day. Whoever had vandalized Isaiah's locker went to a lot of trouble to make it look like Ashton had done it. The flyers stuck inside were the key, but he couldn't quite put it together. Was it the same person who'd posted them? What did the warning mean? And more importantly, had someone robbed Twisted Beauty, knowing he'd take the fall? Or had that crime been unrelated—an unfortunate coincidence?

“Why did you ask me out?”

Ashton snapped to attention at the wounded tone in Penelope's voice. “Huh?”

She pushed aside her half-eaten ice cream, hurt drawing down the corners of her mouth. “I thought you liked me, but I'm beginning to think you're just like Colin.”

Not following, but sure he was nothing like Colin Martin, Ashton reached over and took her hand. “I do like you. But today was kinda crazy.” That's when he realized that she hadn't asked him about his near arrest or the vandalism. Like maybe if she didn't bring it up, it hadn't actually happened.

“It's just that . . .” She looked over at a group of middle school kids laughing at the next table, her usual glow absent from her cheeks. “Colin wanted me on his arm like some kind of trophy. He didn't really care what I wanted or what was going on in my life.” She turned back to him with pleading eyes. “I can't be in that kind of relationship again.”