Wave Good-Bye (33 page)

Or could it really have been Eve?

As I walked my coworkers to their cars, I wondered. Maybe Marsh was right. I’d seen the scratches on her neck. She hadn’t been honest with me about coming back to the
salon. Certainly, Lisa had provoked Eve, and bested her by getting pregnant easily by the same man. Maybe her father’s illness was the last straw.

“Friendship is something we write on our hearts, one letter at a time,” I mumbled.

How hard would it be to erase it?

Chapter Fifty-six

CHANGING INTO A PAIR OF SOFT YOGA PANTS AND A tee, I curled up on my sofa and flipped through the channels on the TV. Suddenly a
ding-ding-ding
sound came from inside my purse. I dug down and pulled out the envelope full of Eve’s belongings.

Ripping it open, I let the cell phone slide into my hand. A text message appeared in the window:

Eve, I am so, so sorry. I have brought you nothing but grief. I am to blame for everything. By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Good-bye—Wynn

With shaking hands, I dug for my cell phone and called Marsh.

“It’s me, Grace Ann. Wynn Goodman is going to kill himself.”

“What?”

“I signed for Eve’s cell phone and personal effects. He just sent her a text message.”

“Any idea where he might try this?”

“The hotel?” That was all I could think of.

“I’m on my way. You sit tight.” And he hung up.

I paced my living room. Sam watched me nervously, hopping from perch to perch easily now and talking to me. Then it hit me. Wynn wouldn’t go to the hotel! He would go to the salon!

I pulled on a pair of shoes. Ran into my bedroom and grabbed a hooded sweatshirt, which I dragged over my head as I trotted toward the front door. In a panic, I climbed into the Fiesta and turned over the engine.

I didn’t have a plan. I thought about calling Marsh again, but if Wynn was at the hotel, Marsh would have the best chance of stopping him. He’d flash his badge, get the manager, and they could break down the door to Wynn’s room.

There are only six traffic lights in St. Elizabeth, and I hit two reds on my way to Snippets. As soon as I drove to the back of the lot and around the building, I saw Wynn’s car. With shaking hands, I called Marsh.

“Wynn’s car is here.”

“Your place?”

“No, the salon.”

“I told you to stay put.”

“Got to run.” No way was I going to let him boss me around. I hopped out of my car and sprinted to the back door. I realized that if I unlocked it, but didn’t hit the security code, help would come right away, so that’s exactly what I did. Except that my hand was shaking so badly, it took forever to get the key into the lock.

I pushed open the door.

That’s when I remembered—Wynn had a gun.

There were two choices: yell out (and give my position away) or sneak along (and give myself a chance to see what was happening). If I called out, Wynn might panic and shoot himself. Or me. If I crept along, I might be able to see what was happening, access the situation, and then call out.

I chose option B, creep and crawl. I’m no superhero. Besides, what if I came upon Wynn having another romantic rendezvous? If I was sneaky, I could back out.

And, yeah, I wasn’t feeling particularly brave. My knees were knocking. My pulse sounded like a bass drum, thumping away. In fact, as I crouched down and moved along the back wall, I thought I’d throw up.

Get ahold of yourself, Grace Ann! You told Eve you’d watch over him!

The logical place for Wynn to be was at the desk where Eve spent most of her time. Carol’s office was at the back of the building, but the manager’s office was right off the salon floor, basically a cubicle without a door, right around the corner from the hall leading to the employee area.

I kept low, which was hard on my thighs, but I figured I would be less noticeable and harder to hit if Wynn got spooked. But that crouching position is tough to hold. Especially when you are shaking with fear. Finally, I gave up and got down on my hands and knees and crawled.

Am I stupid or what? Here I was trying to save a guy who was your basic pond scum. No, lower than pond scum. He’d betrayed me, cheated on his wife, and maybe, just maybe I should let him “off” himself.

Okay, that thought lasted all of a half second. No way could I let Wynn shoot himself. First of all, how would I explain that to Eve? Secondly, how could I live with myself? And third, what would my mother say? That one really shook me up.

As I got closer to the manager’s office, I realized Wynn wasn’t there. I stopped, rolled onto my bottom, sat there, and listened. I could hear mumbling, and it was coming from the salon floor. I got back onto my knees and crept forward, which hurt like holy heck. After clearing the hall, I inched my way up the side of the wall so I was in a standing position and peeped around the corner.

There stood Wynn, facing the big framed poster of Eve, talking to her. The outside sodium-vapor security lamps cast an orange glow that glinted off something in his hand.

A gun.

“Baby, I am so, so sorry,” he said as he tried to embrace the poster. “I never meant to hurt you. Honest! I know I shouldn’t have screwed around. She came after me, and it was too easy, and I’m a creep and a louse and…”

“Wynn?” I spoke softly from behind the corner. “Don’t shoot! It’s Grace Ann.”

He turned. “Grace Ann?”

“Eve asked me to get her personal effects from the jail. I saw your text message. Can I come out? Please don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to kill myself,” he sobbed. “I’m no good, Grace Ann. You know it.”

As my vision adjusted to the half-light, I watched him wipe his eyes on his sleeve.

“I’m going to step away from the wall, okay? Please don’t shoot me.” I could barely walk for how hard my legs were shaking.

“I wouldn’t hurt you. I didn’t hurt Lisa. I swear it. I think Eve killed her! And I drove Eve to it!”

Saying a prayer, I stepped out onto the salon floor. “Wynn, Eve asked me to take care of you. You can’t hurt yourself. She’ll be mad at me! Think of the baby!”

“Who needs a dad like me? A no-good cheat?”

I took a step closer. “Could you put the gun away? It’s making me nervous.”

“I should do this, Grace Ann. If I were any kind of a man, I would pull the trigger and be done with it. All I’ve been to Eve is trouble.”

“That’s not true and you know it. Listen. I grew up without a dad. I would have given anything to have my father. Even if he wasn’t perfect.” I was within fifteen feet of him.

“You mean that?” His shoulders, silhouetted in the security light, slumped. “Honest?”

“Yes, I mean every word of it. Look, if you kill yourself now, Eve doesn’t have anyone. She told me about her dad. Is it fair for you to skip out on her? She needs you!”

Wynn was so quiet that I could hear his labored breathing. I was so close that I could almost touch him, but I stopped to give him a bit of space.

“She needs you,” I repeated.

Finally he said, “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Her attorney couldn’t get out of Montana. The airport is socked in. Don’t you think there should be somebody in her corner? Why don’t you hand me the gun?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess—”

I reached for the gun.

Glass shattered behind me. Wynn and I both flinched. “What the—” he started, as we turned toward the source of the noise.

“Hold it right there! Police! Got you covered!” Hank yelled from the front door. Rotating red lights flashed and disappeared on the wall behind me.

“Hank? What the hell are you doing?”

“Drop it!” Hank screamed.

“Hank, stop it. Wynn was giving me his gun.”

“I’ll shoot!” screamed Hank.

“Hank, I mean it! Stop! Wynn isn’t going to hurt me. Everything is under control! Would you put down that gun?” Desperation welled up inside me. Hank had never been a good marksman. In the strobing red light, his arm was shaking visibly.

“Was this a trick?” Wynn whined to me. “I trusted you, Grace Ann.”

“No! I have no idea where he came from! Wynn, you have to believe me!”

“I said put down that gun or I’ll shoot you where you stand!” Hank hadn’t moved from the front door. At that distance, no way could he fire off a shot with any accuracy. I’d been to the gun range with him enough times to know he had barely qualified.

“See? I told you, Grace Ann. This is my case. I’m going to bring this creep to justice!”

“Oh, crud.” Taking a shot at Wynn would fulfill every one of Hank’s twisted fantasies. He would brag that he was defending me, the woman who scorned him. If he killed Wynn, we might never know who really murdered Lisa Butterworth.

Hank’s arm continued to bounce around wildly. In the distance, sirens shrieked. If I didn’t do something, fast, Hank would pull the trigger.

I took a deep breath and stepped between Hank and Wynn. “You’ll have to shoot me to get to him, Hank.”

“Ah, crap, Grace Ann. Move the hell out of the way. How can I defend you if you—” But his complaint was cut short. A shadow moved behind Hank, grabbing his gun, twisting it out of his hand, and causing my ex-husband to turn a somersault in the air. Then I heard the clink of metal and saw the shadow reach down toward where Hank had landed.

“Got him.” The faceless form straightened.

Officer Qualls.

From the corner I’d previously occupied, came another sound. A throat being cleared. “Mr. Goodman? Special Agent John Dillon here. Please put your gun down. We have Officer Parker under control. He can’t hurt you. I won’t hurt you, and I know you don’t want to hurt Ms. Terhune.”

Chapter Fifty-seven

FORTUNATELY, WYNN LET ME TAKE THE GUN OUT OF his hand. Holding it pointed down, like a pair of scissors, I stepped to the nearest station. There I did as I’d been taught. I carefully set the gun on its side, facing away from me, so that Marsh could pick it up, which he did with lightening speed. A click told me he had the magazine open, and the
chink-chink-chink
of bullets as they hit his palm further reassured me.

“Officer Shepkowski?” Marsh called. “Get the lights.”

Suddenly, the room was bright, and my eyes struggled to adjust once more. Wynn’s face was wet, as was his shirtsleeve where he’d wiped it across his eyes. Shep Shepkowski stepped out from behind the corner. “Yes, sir? What should I do now?”

“Let’s take Mr. Goodman in.”

“Right,” said Shep, and with a bashful nod to me, “Hey, Grace Ann.”

My mouth went dry as Shep took Wynn’s elbow. “B-B-But he didn’t do anything. I mean, he was trying to kill himself, not to hurt me! All this is Hank’s fault!”

“Ms. Terhune, please control yourself.” Marsh sounded cold. “We will take Mr. Goodman in so he can see his wife. I have a feeling she’s not going to be happy that he tried this. And I’d bet my badge that after she scolds him, he won’t try anything like this again.”

“O-O-Okay.” I sighed and rolled my head on my shoulders. “Got it.”

Shep started forward with Wynn, but they didn’t get far before he planted his feet and turned toward me. “I suppose I should thank you, Grace Ann, for talking sense into me.”

“You’re welcome.” I didn’t really mean it, so I added, “I did it for Eve. Tell her, please?”

Qualls and another officer, someone I’d never met, got Hank to his feet. “I’m bleeding,” he squealed. “You traitor! Qualls, you’re supposed to be my partner!”

“Right. Come on,” she said as she marched him toward the police car.

Chapter Fifty-eight