Beyond Suspicion
Authors: Catherine A. Winn
Beyond Suspicion
Catherine A. Winn
The Poisoned Pencil
an imprint of Poisoned Pen Press
Copyright © 2015 by Catherine A. Winn
First E-book Edition 2015
ISBN: 9781929345113 ebook
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
The historical characters and events portrayed in this book are inventions of the author or used fictitiously.
Poisoned Pen Press
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Contents
This book is dedicated to my parents for instilling in their children the lifelong love of reading.
I would like to thank my family and close friends for their encouragement and unfailing support during my journey to publication. A special thanks to my amazing editor, Ellen Larson, with genuine gratitude. Finally, I'd like to thank everyone at The Poisoned Pencil for making my dream a reality.
Mr. Gardiner jotted notes on the white board to emphasize his lecture on civil rightsâor something. Shelby had no idea, because her attention had strayed to what Jace Conroy, the super-cute-walking-electric shock, who sat four seats back and two rows over, was doing that very minute.
The bell rang. Mr. Gardiner shouted over slamming books and loud voices. “That's all for today. Pop test the day you get back.”
It was like someone hit the mute button. A stunned hush filled the room as all eyes shot toward the teacher.
Mr. Gardiner's double chins jiggled as he chuckled and dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “Hashtag sophomores are so gullible. Get out of here.”
Groans and a couple of good-natured, offensive oaths were flung at him as they hurried from the room. Shelby slung her purse over her shoulder, waited for a couple of students to pass, then slid out of her seat.
“Hey, Palmer!” Randy Dawson, freckled, redheaded school genius and all-around good guy, waited at the end of her aisle withâ¦
Jace
?
Shelby gulped down the excited knot in her throat and went to stand by Randy. They were both about the same heightâfive foot seven. Jace, at least a head taller, with shiny brown hair interspersed with sun streaks, gave her a quick nod. His hero-handsome features and deep brown eyes sent the pace of her heart into overdrive.
“Hi, guys,” she said, keeping it cool.
“Are you going to Valerie's
Sweet Sixteen
party?” Randy asked, using the two words Valerie Cosgrove did not want her party called because it was “soooo last century and beyond lame.” Valerie, one of Shelby's two best friends, was throwing her first boy-girl party, a “sophisticated and socially cool,” barbecue to celebrate her sixteenth birthday and her brand new driver's license.
“You like to live dangerously, don't you?” Shelby joked.
Jace's instant laugh made Shelby feel witty and clever. She glanced at him, then quickly looked at Randy's face. “Yes, I'll be there. Are you guys going?”
Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.
It wasn't every day she got to go to a party, and Jace being there would make it perfect.
“Sure,” Randy said as Jace nodded. “We just need to know what time to show up.”
Yes!
Shelby's mouth stretched in an ecstatic smile. “It starts at eight.” An eternal nano-second passed. They seemed to be waiting for her to say something else. Like what? She was so clueless!
“Okay, then. I guess I'll see you there.”
Shelby turned and smacked into a desk, falling forward, clutching her books. The desk skidded out from under her and she was going down when two strong hands grasped her waist.
“Nice move, Grace,” Randy laughed.
“You hurt?” Jace asked, his breath caressing her cheek.
OMG! OMG!
A burning sensation crept up her neck to her face. He was so close she smelled the fresh soap scent from his after-gym shower. “Yes. No. I meanâ¦I'm fine. Thanks.”
“Good.” Jace released her gently and straightened the desk.
Shelby pushed her glasses up from the tip of her nose. She could see the cute little mole right below the corner of his left eyebrow. “Umâ¦thanks, J-Jace.”
Oh, crap, why did I have to stammer?
“You're welcome.” He gave her a wink, stepped aside, and motioned with his extended hand for her to go ahead of them.
Shelby fled to the safety of the hallway. Were they right behind her laughing about it? No. Better not look back.
If they were right behind her she should keep walking like nothing had happened.
Rachel Rodriguez, Shelby's other best friend, compact and curvy (she hadn't needed a padded bra since seventh grade), dodged around students at breakneck speed. Her black curls, held back with a mini-braided hairband, bounced around her shoulders and her dark eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Guess what?” She flipped around to walk beside Shelby. “I've just been accepted as a student volunteer at the Whispering Springs Animal Shelter! Can you believe it? This is gonna look so good on my college apps andâget thisâit's a no-kill shelter. I'm so excited!” Rachel wanted to be a veterinarian and was determined to do whatever she could to land some scholarships and get accepted by a top collegeâeven though that was two years away.
“That's awesome!” Shelby flashed a forced congratulatory, smile but she couldn't stop thinking about being such a klutz in front of Jace. If only she could have a do-over.
Rachel's brows drew together in concern. “Why is your face so red?”
Shelby bugged her eyes out at her. “Shhhh! Just keep walking.”
When they reached her locker, Shelby leaned against it for support. “Do you see Jace Conroy behind us?”
Rachel scanned the throng of faces scurrying back and forth. “Nope, he must have gone the other way.”
Shelby stole a look. Jace was nowhere in sight. She inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh. “I. Am. Dying! I did a most-embarrassing-moment thing.” She told Rachel everything while she opened her locker and tossed her books inside. “And that stupid Randy Dawson called me Grace and laughed!”
“Why you por thang!” Rachel clucked in sympathy.
Shelby blinked. “Por thang?”
Rachel waved at someone passing by. “I'm trying out the Texas twang for English class. Mrs. Waldrup's making us do one-act plays using regional accents to study voice and diction. Since we live in Texas, I figured it would be easy. How'd I do?”
“It sounded okay but people from Whispering Springs don't have Texas accents unless they're old-timers and then it's only a drawl not a twang.”
Located in south-central Texas about twenty miles from the northern edge of San Antonio, the small town of Whispering Springs lies nestled in the rolling hills of the Texas Hill Country. Pioneers were drawn to this area for the mountain cedar, live oaks, a variety of wildlife, and an abundant supply of water from the natural springs that bubbled up from the Edwards Aquifer. Shelby smiled, remembering how much fun it was to swim in the blue water of the limestone pools etched in the rock by the steady flow of spring water.
In the last few years San Antonio had exploded in growth, stretching its boundaries in all directions thanks to the influx of new residents from every state and several countries, with many military personnel. Young families who wanted to escape the big city chose to move to Whispering Springs for the small-town atmosphere while still being able to commute to work. As word spread, so many people had come that the city fathers now talked about the need for another high school and several new elementary and middle schools.
“Some parts of Texas, like along the Red River, it's very heavy. That's the one I'm trying to copy.” Rachel poked her. “Back to Jace. What happened isn't the end of the world, you know.”
Shelby closed her locker, fastened the combination lock and spun the dial. “So do you think Jace is completely turned off by Klutz Palmer?”
“Jace actually had his big manly hands around your tiny little waist!”
Shelby smiled dreamily. “Did he ever.”
By the time they reached Valerie, who waited for them at the door of the cafeteria with arms folded and the toe of her sandal tapping, Rachel had convinced Shelby to let it go, to stop replaying it over and over in her mind. She'd make things right at the party. She'd even laugh at herself if Jace or Randy brought it up.
Valerie's light blond fishtail braid hung over her shoulder and her small pink-butterfly earrings set off her topaz-blue eyes, now squinting. “What took you two bitches so long?” She practically shoved them into the lunch line then stepped in front of them. “Don't forget to be at my house at seven so you can help with last minute things.”
“We won't,” Shelby said, taking a tray.
“And don't forget your pajamas for the sleepover after the boys go home.”
“We won't,” Rachel said, giving Shelby a hooded eye roll.
“And don't forget to bring your curling irons and straightenersâjust in case.”
“We won't!” Shelby and Rachel said in annoyed unison.
Valerie tapped the glass in front of the gelatin salads and pointed. The lunch lady handed a salad to her. “Can I help it if I want everything to be perfect?” Her tone sounded hurt and a little huffy as she banged the bowl onto her tray.
“Come on, Val,” Shelby said soothingly. “You know us bitches won't let our alpha bitch down.”
The corners of Valerie's lips curved.
“That's right,” Rachel agreed. “So did you call and ask if you could go home early?”
Valerie harrumphed. “I did and Dad reverted from retired to active Col. Cosgrove. He and mother are “the officers in charge of our private little military complex,” his words. And they intend to
surprise
me. Yuck! I've been ordered not to call again or the party will be cancelled.”
Shelby held back a chuckle. Col. Cosgrove just couldn't seem to leave military life behind, but he was a nice man who always made Shelby feel welcome. Valerie's mom, also nice, though a little distant, liked being a big fish in a small pond. She had used her twenty years of officer's-wife training to join every citizen committee or volunteer group in town, always rising quickly to a leadership position. Her picture was in the paper practically every month. Shelby's mom predicted that Valerie, the perfectly raised army brat, would someday be her clone.
They filled their trays and hurried to their regular table. When they were seated Shelby hung her purse on the back of her chair as Valerie drummed her French-manicured nails on the table. “If it's all sweet and frilly like the birthday cake, I'll puke.”
“Why that'd be jist awful, hon.”
Valerie's nails halted. Her thin nose scrunched. “What did you say?”
“She's practicing Texas Twang for English class,” Shelby explained as her knife and fork wrestled with the chicken-fried mystery meat.
“Oh, got it. Mine is New Jersey.” Valerie delicately spooned her gelatin fruit salad.
“I'm glad I've got Mrs. Rowell.” Shelby took the paper off her straw. “Straight through the book and no surprises.”
“Okay, enough about that,” Valerie said. “Here's how we're going to get the boys to pay attention to us and
only
us.”
“Just a sec,” Rachel said, lowering her voice. “Taylor told me a couple of the guys have managed to score some vodka and bourbon.”
Valerie smiled. “Good. If we're careful Dad won't have a clue.”
“Knowing your dad,” Shelby said. “All who enter will be frisked. Especially the boys.”
Valerie's spoon bounced off the table and onto the floor.
After they finished eating, Valerie texted Taylor with a booze-at-your-own-risk warning. But just in case, they decided to stash the booze in a car and slip out to get it after the party got started. Then the three of them chatted about who would do what at the party. Shelby, acutely aware of her own inexperience, mostly listened.
Her art class was in the far wing so she dumped her tray and left first. Mrs. Winstead had already passed out their portfolios with their copper tooling plates. Shelby took out a pair of latex gloves she brought from home. Normally she didn't care what happened in art class, but she was not about to ruin her manicure just hours before the party.
During the previous class, each student had taken a simple pencil drawing and taped it over a copper plate. Then they'd used a pointed wooden stylus to trace the image into the copper. After the paper was removed, they went outdoors and brushed liver of sulfur mixture over the copper to turn it black. Shelby shuddered. Talk about a rotten egg smell; that smell was absolutely the worst. Next time she'd use Vicks in her nostrils. But that didn't matter anymore; today was the exciting part. They would polish the copper with fine steel wool and the raised places would be bright and shiny and the recessed places would be dark, giving it an antique finish.
Shelby slipped on her gloves, picked up the steel wool, and began polishing. Sounds of rubbing and whispers of awe snaked through the room.
Thirty-five minutes later Shelby couldn't believe the finished piece in her hands. Her drawing of a deer in the woods was so much more amazing like this than on paper. “Excellent job, Shelby,” Mrs. Winstead said, pausing behind her. “And it will look even better when framed. I wanted to tell you that your watercolor painting of Mission San Jose has been selected for display in the Administration Building's student art show in June. If that's okay with you?” Mrs. Winstead's eyes twinkled.
Shelby beamed up at her and vigorously nodded. Only two students from each class were chosen to display their work in the art show. Shelby had gone to the mission, sketched on the grounds, then come home and worked hard on the painting. When she brought it to class Mrs. Winstead snatched it up to submit to the show, but it had been weeks and she thought it had been rejected.
The rest of the day dragged by, without even a glance of Jace to give Shelby a taste of what the coming party had to offer. They had no more classes together on Friday, but she kept hoping she'd see him in the hall. And if their eyes met, wellâromantic-filled daydreams in the science lab depended on those moments.
On the bus ride home she imagined how good she would look and couldn't wait until after dinner so she could start getting ready. When the bus came to her stop, Shelby hopped off, wrapped her fingers around the straps of her backpack and sprinted toward home. Excited didn't even begin to describe how she was feeling. The best part about it was, after the party all the boys would be sent home and the girls were having a sleepover. That meant freedom and a whole night away from home. Too bad it wasn't the whole weekend. She had loved Josh from the minute he was born last August, but she was so tired of hearing her mother say, “Shelby, the baby needs changing.” or “Shelby, the baby needs a bottle.” And dealing with Roger, the man her mother had been stupid enough to marry, was maddening. This party was definitely what she needed.
