Most importantly, I never saw who killed my mom and Eli. I never knew the truth. But someone did. And if Ethan really was innocent, that someone had to be feeling nervous as a cat right now.
Five
The funeral for Sandra and Gordon Reynolds took place on a Monday. It was a cold, dark, and dreary day, but the town showed up in a big way, as close-knit southern communities are prone to do. The church was filled with family and friends, including friends of Bella’s—and what space was left over was taken up by nosy neighbors and people who just wanted to gawk at the latest scandal. There was no graveside service, since the bodies remained in the hands of the coroner—and there wouldn’t be much to bury when the bodies were released anyway. If it were me, I’d go ahead and request a cremation once cause of death was officially determined.
The wake was held at the house of Janice Jones, Sandra Reynolds’s younger sister, with the help of ladies from the church, of course. She had also insisted on taking Bella in; Janice wasn’t married and didn’t have children of her own. In fact she was heavily gossiped about around town because she partied hard most weekend nights and was stuck in a desperate search for a husband with a revolving door of suitors. Paynes Creek was a tough place to be a single woman past her teenage years—most bachelors in their thirties carried too much baggage to bother with. You had to give Janice credit for not giving up.
Currently she was circling the room, placing coasters underneath drinks in order to protect her inexpensive, bulk-made furniture, carrying abandoned plates of food back to the kitchen, and generally staying busy. Her blond hair was long and had been hot-rollered into loose spirals, but her eyes were bloodshot, and I noticed that people had been watching her with increased interest as the day wore on.
“Did you hear?” I overheard a woman say behind me. I turned and saw that she was huddled with another woman. “Sandra and Gordon invited Mr. Lake into their home for dinner and drinks quite often. Talk about letting the wolf guard the henhouse.” The woman talking wore a black dress that hung past her knees, and a scarf that reminded me of a peacock was wrapped around her neck and shoulder.
The other woman held a glass of clear liquid up next to her mouth as if to keep others from hearing her. “I heard he passed out on their sofa one night.” She was dressed in black pants and a gray sweater. A string of pearls decorated her neck. “I don’t see how Sandra or Gordon couldn’t have known that something was going on with their daughter and Mr. Lake. My son says everyone at school knew, and had known for months.”
Miss Peacock and Miss Pearls nodded in agreement of each other as if they’d just solved all the town’s problems and its latest crime.
“Well, that teacher is only twenty-four,” Miss Peacock said. “He’s not even that much older than Bella.”
I lifted a brow. Was the woman seriously suggesting that it was okay for a twenty-four-year-old teacher to have relations with a seventeen-year-old student?
“Oh, Darlene,” Miss Pearls said with a chuckle. “You know that doesn’t make it right. He was in a position of authority.” She sounded like she was quoting a newspaper article.
The two women were just a couple of gossips, but they did make me wonder if Bella’s parents had known about Mr. Lake and their daughter. And whether they’d been in favor of him being arrested.
“The Reynoldses sure were popular,” a male voice said behind me.
Startled, I tensed, turned, and stared into the moss-green eyes of Special Agent Luke Justice. He was probably here to see if the person who burned down the Reynoldses’ home would show up at the funeral. That was a typical line of thought for investigators of serious crimes.
He scanned the room over my head. “Were all of these people their friends?”
I looked over my shoulder, then turned back to him and lifted a plastic cup filled with cheap white wine to my lips. After swallowing the really bad wine, I met his gaze and said, “No. No one is this popular in this town. But welcome to Paynes Creek, where everyone pretends to be your friend until they don’t.”
“What does that mean?”
“Stick around a while, Agent. You’ll figure it out.”
A loud commotion erupted outside in front of the house. I slipped through the crowd and out the front door to see what was happening. Luke was on my heels.
Bella Reynolds was standing on the sidewalk, practically screaming at her aunt, her high-pitched southern accent piercing the air. “You will never be my mother! My real mama and daddy are dead!”
I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, even though she sounded like a spoiled brat at the moment. She was entitled to her grief.
“They no longer have any say in who I see or where I go,” Bella continued. “And neither do you!” She turned and headed for a cheap sedan that appeared to be waiting for her.
Someone approached Janice from behind and whispered something in her ear that I imagined went along the lines of, Let her go. She’s mourning. She’ll be back.
As Bella climbed into the car, Luke muttered beside me, “Matthew Lake, you are one stupid son of a bitch.” I didn’t get a good look at the man in the car, but Luke seemed pretty confident it was the high school teacher. I knew he wasn’t still in custody—he had been released when the prosecuting attorney decided she didn’t have enough evidence that he and Bella had actually engaged in sex. And Bella denied it vehemently—claimed her teacher had only been giving her private violin lessons leading up to an audition.
“Bella! You can’t leave!” Janice screamed, running after the car.
Bella just tossed a wave out the car window as it sped off.
As one car left, another arrived. My brother, Finch Day, the beloved town veterinarian, had decided to make a late appearance. He got out the driver’s side and was most of the way around to help his wife, Aubrey, from the car, when a reporter jumped in front of him. The woman snapped his photo, then stuck out a hand holding a phone, which I assumed was set to record.
“Mr. Day, do you believe your stepbrother set the fire that killed Sandra and Gordon Reynolds? Have you heard from Ethan Gentry since he was released from prison?”
Where I would have shoved the leech out of the way and ordered her to leave, Finch merely squared his shoulders. “I do not know if Ethan set the fire. I’ll leave that to investigators to figure out.” He cast a glance in my direction, then returned his attention to the reporter. “No, I have not heard from him. And you need to leave. This is highly inappropriate, and if you had any decency, you would know that already.”
He nudged past the reporter and joined his wife, who had stepped from the car holding a plate of deviled eggs covered in Saran Wrap—a funeral staple here in the south. She made eye contact with me as well.
I spun around with the intention of finding my way to my car and leaving, but I was blocked by Agent Justice. I attempted to get around him, but he stopped me with a hand on my forearm.
“Where’s the fire?” He closed his eyes. “Sorry. Bad choice of words.”
“Let me pass.”
He looked over my shoulder, then back at me. I don’t know what he saw in my expression, but his eyes softened. “Let’s get out of here.”