Speak of the devil. Jerald Pope. Sarah gave herself a mental shake. She could safely say that she hadn’t expected him to show up. “SorryI missed you.” She gestured to the inn. “I was just on my way back.” Duh. He could see that.
The memory of him watching her across the treetops through his high-powered lens that night suddenly zinged her with a new kind of tension in view of Matilda’s comments.
“I wanted to invite you to dinner this evening,” he explained. “If you don’t already have plans. My family and I would be inordinately pleased if you could come.”
Was it possible he hadn’t heard the news? She glanced toward town. “Are you sure tonight’s a good time?”
“I thought, considering the latest tragedy, you might like to have a night away from ...” He inclined his head. “Away from the turmoil.”
What she really wanted was an opportunity to pick his brain and his daughter’s. Maybe even his wife’s. And to see just what it was that bothered Matilda about the guy. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
“Seven?”
“Seven.”
He smiled. “Excellent.”
Sarah watched him drive away. Interesting.
Maybe Mr. Pope was simply doing the socially PC thing. But Sarah wasn’t so sure. Everyone was a suspect. Even the rich boat builder and his perfect family.
Rich people can get away with anything. Even murder.Renewed purpose infused her step. Good thing. The last stretch was straight up; by the time she reached the lobby, her legs burned.
There was no one at the registration desk again.
Didn’t matter. She already knew about the message Pope had left. If she had any more, someone would let her know.
She climbed the stairs a little slower than usual. Jammed the key into the lock and frowned. The door wasn’t locked. She twisted the knob and let the door glide open.
The gasp that echoed in the room sounded almost as surprised as Sarah felt. Melody Harvey, hands deep into a drawer, froze like a deer caught in a hunter’s crosshairs.
Sarah stepped inside, closed the door, and leaned against it. She’d been looking for this opportunity. Sometimes luck bothered to give her a hand, after all.
“I’m sorry.” The girl’s hazel eyes widened with fear, her face paled. She gestured to Sarah’s bedside table where a note lay. “I came to leave your messages, in case no one was at the desk this evening when you came in.”
“That’s very efficient of you.” It was also a lie.
Melody stepped away from the drawer she’d been rummaging through, humiliation overtaking the shocked terror on her face. “I’m sorry, Ms. Newton. Please don’t tell on me.”
“Don’t worry.” Sarah pushed off the door, tugged her hood free of her hair, and tossed her bag on the bed. “I’m not going to tell.”
Relief flashed across Melody’s face. “Thank you. I am so sorry.”
When she would have made a dash for the door, Sarah said, “I wanted the opportunity to talk to you, but I was never able to catch you at the registration desk.”
Melody stalled at the foot of the bed, bit her bottom lip. “My parents would totally freak out if they caught me talking to you.”
Sarah crossed back to the door and locked it. “I don’t think they’ll look for you here.”
Hands wringing, Melody nodded. “Okay.”
“Were you friends with Valerie Gerard?” Though she went straight to the point with her question, Sarah took her time approaching the bed, then taking a seat, so as not to spook the girl. Melody looked ready to bolt, locked door or no.
She nodded. “We graduated high school together.” Melody had the same blond hair and hazel eyes as her younger brother. She was pretty, but not the kind of gorgeous Alicia Appleton had been.
“Do you recall anyone ever being jealous of her? Like maybe when she won academic awards or spelling bees?” Admittedly, it was a stretch to expect anyone to remember that far back, especially when she wouldn’t have been more than about nine years old.
Melody shook her head before considering the question. “Valerie was kind of like me. Invisible. Not popular or athletic or anything.”
