Ellen and Peter Conner greeted her as if they hadn’t seen her in ages and were thrilled to have her join them. Conner introduced her to his brother, who looked like a younger carbon copy of him.
It felt awkward. Too personal.
Conner pushed the wheelchair, his mother walked on one side while his brother tagged along on the other. Polly hung on to Sarah’s arm.
The whole situation was somehow uncomfortable.
Sarah was a stranger.
Apparently they hadn’t noticed.
“Let’s find a seat,” Polly urged as the rest of her family headed for the handicapped-accessible entrance.
Having no ready way to disengage herself, Sarah smiled at the girl and went along.
They followed Marta Hanover and her husband up the steps.
Marta glanced at Sarah but quickly looked away.
See? Sarah was not one of them. Why hadn’t the Conners noticed?
If that one furtive glance wasn’t proof enough, the blatant glares she garnered inside the sanctuary confirmed it.
“Here.” Polly tugged her to the wide aisle designed for those physically challenged. She settled on the very end of the pew next to the main aisle and patted the spot beside her.
Conner and his mother entered the row from the other side. When his mother was settled alongside his father, he took the seat next to Sarah.
That his arm went automatically behind her set off another of those gut-level alarms.
Before she could reflect on the maneuver, much less the motive, Polly whispered in her ear. “You see the girl hanging all over Brady?”
Jerald Pope’s daughter. Sarah nodded.
“That’s Jerri Lynn. She’s been after Brady forever. She and Alicia hated each other. ’Course I can’t say much since I had a little crush on Brady, but I got over that and hardly anyone knew.”
Jerri Lynn wasn’t alone in her efforts to console Brady. Several others, male and female, including Tamara Gilbert, sat around him. But Tamara’s presence was merely on the fringes. It was obvious that she’d latched on to Jerri Lynn, and that alone was her ticket to the party.
“Oh, my God,” Polly murmured, still leaning against Sarah’s shoulder. “Reverend Mahaney is here without his wife. And he’s not sitting with his niece.” She bent around to look Sarah in the eyes. “That’s weird. They always do everything together.” She peeked in the reverend’s direction then turned back to Sarah. “His niece is like the biggest nerd in school. Nobody likes her except Jerri Lynn. That’s her all over Jerri Lynn,” Polly added as an aside, not realizing that Sarah already knew. “Tamara always tells her uncle everything, especially about the youth group members. That’s another reason nobody likes her.”
Sarah nodded, but her real attention was on Melody Harvey, who sat with her parents. Seemed strange that she didn’t sit with the other kids her age, as her brother did. Maybe she, too, was considered a nerd like Tamara.Invisible, that’s what Melody had said.
It appeared every police officer on the Youngstown force was in attendance. Except maybe the one guarding the crime scene. The Popes sat together near the back on the other side of the sanctuary.
As if her thought had summoned him, Jerald gave Sarah one of those vague nods of acknowledgment. Sarah returned the gesture. His wife looked regal. She was the only one in the room wearing a hat and dark glasses.
Matilda had been right. Pope was a little freaky. But that didn’t make him a killer any more than his generous donations to the victims’ families did. Matilda was just a kid. Admittedly, one with an uncanny sense of those around her, but a kid nonetheless. Sarah had to stop allowing her empathy for the kid to filter her assessments.
Sarah shifted her attention from the standing-room-only crowd to the front, where a long table had been arranged in honor of Alicia. Her senior portrait served as the centerpiece. More photos, trophies, crowns, and the memorabilia that represented her too-short life spanned the width of the altar.
When the minister stepped up to the podium, the murmur of soft voices and the whisper of fabric in the crowd settling came to an abrupt stop.
The service began with the minister’s thoughts on the deceased. Close friends and family approached the altar, one by one, and spoke about the young woman who would be so sorely missed. Rachel Appleton sat stoically through every word of every recitation.
Sarah watched her, trying to remember how she’d felt at her father’s memorial service or even at her mother’s. She’d felt numb, uncaring. In a way, relieved.
But not Rachel Appleton. She sat there wearing a brave face and dying inside.
With the discovery of her daughter’s body, Rachel Appleton’s life had ended. It didn’t matter that she had two sons. Her daughter had been her entire existence.
