Ring Around the Rosy (12 page)

She took a deep breath, let it out
slowly, and looked at her sisters. Both of them looked at a loss for words. She
swallowed hard.

“It’s scary, but with Dave around,
I feel pretty safe, and the police are watching my apartment. They have a
surveillance team set up nearby.” Susan hesitated, looked again, took another
breath, let it out, and went on.

“You really need to go stay with
Mom,” Clare said.

“Nope, not gonna happen.” Susan
remained stubborn. “And don’t give me that baloney about I’ll be safer. I don’t
want to hear it. This guy isn’t after me. I’m his contact.” At least, she hoped
he wasn’t after her.

Susan looked at her watch and
stood. “Sorry, I have to leave. I’ll come back later.” With Kate and Clare
here, their mother had plenty of company. Sure, she could send Dave home, but
she hated hospitals, and spending six hours in one was more than enough to
handle. Now that her father was out of danger and Clare had calmed down, Susan
needed some space.

She found Dave in the lobby and
followed him out to the car. One red rose dangled from the driver-side door
handle. Someone was following her. How else would he know she was at the
hospital? She couldn’t handle this right now. Between her father, Clare, and
now this, it was just too much. She hated this helpless feeling. Was she
turning into a wimp?

Fortunately, Dave drove home.
Susan sat next to him, trying not to think. Not an easy thing to do. She couldn’t
help thinking about her father, and the way Clare fell apart.

Even though she was the youngest,
she had always been the calm one in a crisis, the one to pull things together,
to find a solution — mostly to handle Clare’s hysterics. Even over something as
simple as arranging a surprise party, Clare fell apart. Of course, up to now,
the crises had all been minor things like planning a party for their parents’
40th anniversary party two years ago, not a serious illness.

How would they all handle things if
their father died? Or their mother, for that matter. Their parents had always
been there for them. They took it for granted. But her parents weren’t getting
any younger and one day, they’d receive that fatal call, hopefully not for a
long, long time.

Dave walked to her door, unlocked
it, and after checking for messages, kissed her goodbye. “Try to get some
rest.”

Emotionally charged and exhausted
all at the same time, she locked the door, picked up Bella and curled up on the
bed, her mind going in a thousand different directions. Between Jack and Jill,
and now her father, she wasn’t sure which way to turn.

Relieved her father was going to
be okay; she focused on her relationship with Dave. Something told her he’d
accept her career. Maybe their relationship could develop into something more.
Half of her hoped so, as she closed her eyes and let sleep overcome her.

* * *

In the morning, Susan visited her
father again, although she couldn’t stay long. He looked much better and was
even sitting up in a chair. Unfortunately, other commitments required her
attention, Dave being one of them. When he left last night, they agreed to
finish off the pot roast. Of course, if her father wasn’t better, she’d never
consider leaving. Maybe it was selfish, but with everything going on, she
needed some time to herself. Well, with Dave, that is. She still had to figure
out their relationship and how far she wanted to take it. For now, she was
content just to be with him.

At home, Susan cleaned her small
apartment, ran some errands, and couldn’t wait to see Dave. He called to let
her know he was on his way so she could heat up the roast, and came in a half
hour later.

After dinner, her thoughts turned
to the phone calls.

For some reason, the calls had
stopped. There had been nothing for a couple days. Maybe Ernie assumed
correctly that if someone else’s byline appeared on the story, he’d leave her
alone. She wondered if the killer contacted Hill. She sighed.

“What?” Dave asked.

“Hmm? Oh nothing, I just wondered
about the killer. I’m enjoying the reprieve, but that monster is still out
there.”

Susan had grown accustomed to the
companionship of Detective David Morgan, and thoughts of it continuing, after
this case ended, played in her mind. He came in and out at odd hours, and since
she didn’t adhere to a normal schedule, anyway, he fit right in. Plus, he
respected her career and didn’t belittle her chances of making a full-fledged
reporter.

She snuggled deeper against him
and closed her eyes. For now, she’d take what she could get. The future would
take care of itself. She fell asleep in his arms.

* * *

Dave let her sleep, enjoying the
warmth of her body. It felt right. He was getting in over his head, but he
didn’t have any control over it. Every time he decided to quit seeing her,
something happened. Between the killer’s phone calls and her father, she showed
a vulnerability she had managed to hide from the outside world.

He reminded himself again that she
was a witness. He shouldn’t be here, but he couldn’t bring himself to stay
away. As long as they maintained a friendly relationship, and it didn’t go any
farther. He smoothed her hair and looked down at her.

She looked so sweet and innocent.

Hell, who was he trying to kid, no
way could this relationship remain friendly, let alone innocent. He wanted her
like he hadn’t wanted a woman in... damn, he couldn’t remember how long.

Sure, he dated. He wasn’t a saint-
even slept with his fair share. But they didn’t mean anything to him. He never
had a relationship. He always made it clear to his dates that he wasn’t looking
for marriage - didn’t believe in it. Nope, he and marriage weren’t compatible.

So what the hell was he doing
here? Why was he thinking of a relationship with Susan? He eased her off his
shoulder, laid her down, and covered her with an afghan. He needed to put some
distance between them.
 
He was becoming
too involved, and nothing good could come of it. He kissed her cheek and left.

* * *

The ringing phone jarred Susan out
of a sound sleep. She held her breath, waiting for someone to speak.
 
“Susan, it’s me, Dan. Do you have a minute? I
need to interview you.”

Susan grabbed the phone. “What do
you want?” She didn’t care that she sounded angry. Damn it, she was angry. Why
hold it in? Dan stole her story, and now he wanted an interview.

“I need some info on those phone
calls.”

Susan shook her head. Dan seemed
oblivious to her anger. She tapped her fingers on the counter. “Those phone
calls are personal,” she finally said.

“Those phone calls are news.” Dan
raised his voice.

“Yeah, and they’re my news.”

“Do I have to remind you Ernie
assigned me this story?”

“Assigned it or you begged for it?
Couldn’t have a woman upstage you, could you?” Susan couldn’t keep the sarcasm
out of her voice.

“What difference does it make?
It’s my story now.”

“Go to hell!” Susan slammed the
phone down.

 
If that stupid, arrogant bastard thought he
could steal her story and get away with it, he had another thought coming. Not
going to happen. No way. Not in this lifetime.

Not two minutes later, the phone
rang again. Susan stared at it, waiting for the raspy voice.

“Susan, are you there? It’s me,
Ernie.”

 
Sure didn’t take long for cry baby, Hill, to
tattle on her. She lifted the receiver. “Hello.”

“What the hell are you doing?”
Ernie yelled. “I assigned this story to Hill. I expect you to cooperate with
him.”

Susan took a deep breath. Who did
he think he was talking to? She didn’t need this. Not from him, not from
anyone. No one talked to her like that.

“It’s my story, Ernie. It has been
since the beginning.” She tried to keep the anger out of her voice, but knew
some of it filtered through. Darn that temper of hers. Still, Ernie had no
right taking her story in the first place, and he sure as heck had no right to
scream at her like that. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Hill to go to hell, but
she was tired of this. Tired of the whole sick mess. Those were her friends
lying there, and Hill got her byline. It wasn’t fair.

“So are you going to cooperate?”
Ernie softened his tone, but his voice still held a hard edge.

“No.”

“You’re refusing a direct order?”

Susan hesitated. She didn’t like
this. But still – it was the principal of the thing. “Yes.”

“Then you’re fired!” Ernie hung
up. Just like that.

She stared at the phone. “Figures.
Hill’s his favorite.” Just what she needed. Tears welled in her eyes. This was
too much. Everything was happening too fast. The murders, Dave, now her job. To
make matters worse, she had to get ready for her friends’ funeral.

* * *

Susan stood in the cemetery, hardly
hearing the words the minister spoke. She stood back, away from the crowd that
gathered to mourn Jack and Jill, and looked at the faces, some familiar, some
not. Her friends were gone. She’d never see them or hear their voices again.

Her heart went out to the kids.
She couldn’t imagine losing one parent, let alone two, and in such a tragic
way. They stood next to their grandparents and cousins, tears streaming down
their cheeks. Susan wiped her own tears. She dreaded who might be next, and
there would be another. Of that, she had no doubt.

The minister finished his eulogy,
and the mourners slowly moved past the caskets. She followed the group and set
her flowers on each of the caskets, said her goodbyes, and hurried from the
cemetery. She couldn’t go to the luncheon that followed. It hurt too badly. She
didn’t want to talk to anyone. She hurried to her car.

A red rose dangled from the door
handle.
 
She picked it up and threw it as
far as she could.

She hadn’t noticed anyone
following her or near her car. But then, she‘d been too engrossed in her
thoughts.
 

She got into her car and looked at
the people getting into theirs. Many of them, she didn’t know. Did one of them
leave the rose? Could one of them have been the killer? Surely Jack and Jill
must have known their murderer. How else could he have gotten so close? He must
have hit Jack first, knocked him out and killed Jill, then turned his attention
back to Jack.

She started her car and pulled
away from the procession. She had to get away from there.

Later, Susan sat down in the
middle of her bed. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her mind played back the
last time she had seen Jack and Jill alive. She closed her eyes, and the vision
replayed in her head as if it were yesterday.

Jack’s laugh rang out as he pushed
his son on the swing.

“Higher, Daddy, higher!” Jack Jr.
begged.

“Not too high,,” Jill said. “I
swear that boy’s going to be an astronaut or pilot,” Jill told Susan as she
watched her daughters climb on the monkey bars. “Sometimes it scares me, you
know. Look at them. All of them love adventure. Just like their father.
Sometimes I think I won’t get to see them grow up.” Jill shuddered.

Now, just like that, they were
gone. In the blink of an eye the family ripped apart. Did Jill have a premonition?

“Why?” Susan screamed. “Why them?
Why any of them?”

Bella jumped off the bed.

Why in God’s name would anyone
want to kill her friends? As far as she knew, she didn’t have any enemies. A
vision of Jack and Jill’s bodies flashed through her mind.

Darn it, she couldn’t do this.

Sitting and crying wasn’t going to
bring her friends back, and it sure as heck wasn’t going to catch their killer.
She dried her tears, jumped off the bed and paced the room. But what was she
going to do? Even the police didn’t have any ideas.

Maybe if she offered to meet with
the guy, see what he wanted. Then what? Let him kill her? What would that
prove? There had to be something she could do. She couldn’t sit back and watch
all her friends die.

Suddenly, Aunt Kate came to mind.
Aunt Kate, her favorite aunt, great-aunt, really, always had the answer to
everything. Every summer, she had stayed with Aunt Kate for a week in the
summer. It was from Aunt Kate she learned her appreciation of books. Aunt Kate
had tons of them, and took the time to read to Susan when she was very young.
After Susan learned to read, she read to Aunt Kate.

“Books are the mainstream of life.
Look at them, Susannah,” she used to say. Aunt Kate was the only one who called
her that, and Susan loved it.

“Look at the covers and the
binding. Doesn’t it make you feel like an artist, make you feel alive?” Aunt
Kate always patted the bun on her head, looked out of the top half of her
glasses, and smiled. “Read them. Absorb their words.”