“Fine.” The other woman turned. Alex thought she looked strange. Her latte sloshed over the rim as she carried her beverage to the table.
She handed Rachel the baby brush. She watched as Rachel unwrapped it, turned it over in her hands, then read the inscription. Her expression altered slightly. She lifted her gaze to Alex’s. “So, why Wayne Reed?”
“Mainly because the BOV story originated with him. But the rest works as well. He wanted me to go away. He warned me away from his sons. He’s the scion of an old wine family. The strong scent from my episode in the cave was Lyla Reed’s scent.”
Completely spent, she laid her head on her arms, folded on the counter in front of her. Wordlessly, Rachel set about making them toast, pouring juice.
The horizon lightened; they ate the simple meal in silence. The food helped, delivering a small burst of energy. Alex looked at Rachel. “Reed doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’m crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Rachel said softly. “I know you’re not.”
“How, Rachel? How do you know?”
“Because I lived through the same nightmare.”
The same nightmare. Of course. Rachel was implicated-because she was a part of it as well. Alex experienced an almost dizzying relief.
She wasn’t alone. Not anymore. This wasn’t just about her, it was about Rachel, too.
Because of Dylan. Because of what happened to him.
“Why now?” Alex asked. “After all these years-”
“Because he was found! His remains. That was our brother who was dug up in that vineyard. Our brother who had been stuffed into a wine crate and buried.”
“I didn’t think he’d been positively identified. When-”
“Dad ID’d them. He’s positive.”
Reed hadn’t told her.
“Dylan’s killer is out there, Alex. And I think you being here is making him nervous.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because you know who he is. You saw something that night, something you repressed.”
Alex shook her head in denial, though she knew in her gut that Rachel was right.
Rachel grabbed her hands. “First that night in the cave at Red Crest, then later here, in this one, something happened to you. Something terrifying-and terrifyingly real. We both know why.”
Alex swallowed and nodded.
“The police found blood outside the cave entrance.”
“Dylan’s?”
“His type. DNA wasn’t what it is now, but it was presumed that, yes, it was his.”
Alex felt sick. “From what I told you, do you think my father killed Tim?”
“I don’t know. Why else would someone want Tim dead?”
Alex shook her head. “He didn’t know anybody here but me. He was murdered in my kitchen, nothing was stolen, so-”
She bit back the last and looked at Rachel. “No wonder they think I did it. I’m the obvious choice.”
“But you didn’t kill him. And his last communication with you was about your father.”
“No,” Alex corrected, “it was his note. He said he had news for me.”
“So, unless you’re lying to me, we’ve got a no-brainer here. The question is, could Wayne Reed be your father?”
They fell silent. Alex thought of Reed, her feelings for him. The time they had spent together. How he would-
“Oh my God,” she said, suddenly remembering. “At Red Crest, the night of the launch party, Lyla was giving me a tour of the family trophy room. We were looking at the photographs on the walls… there was one of Wayne Reed with Robert Mondavi. She mentioned him by name.”
“The Robert Mondavi Winery, that’s where your mother was working when she met your dad.”
“Yes.” Alex dropped her face in her hands. “This can’t be happening.”
“It is,” Rachel said tersely. “You’re going to have to deal with your personal feelings later. Right now, we figure out what happened. When we do, then we go to the police.”
Alex squeezed her eyes closed. The image of the robed figures filled her head. The men, their arousal… hands holding her down. The fire, its tentacles reaching for her. The screams.
“We can do this, Alex. You can do this.”
She snapped open her eyes. “How?” she whispered. “How do we make me remember?”
“You already know. You tried it yourself.”
She did know. The wine cave.
Alex’s heart beat heavily. She struggled to breathe past the sudden, overwhelming fear that balled up in her chest. Was she up to this? Was she strong enough?
It’s what she had set out to do. Unearth her past. Fill the empty place inside her, the one where those memories used to live. Find her father and identify her brother’s killer.
Was she strong enough? she wondered again.
Alex shuddered and Rachel caught her hands. “I’ll be right there with you. I’ll talk you through it.”
“A reenactment,” she whispered. “That’s what we need to do.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tonight. Late. I’ll prepare everything. You try to get some rest.”
That would be easier said then done, Alex acknowledged. She was completely terrified already, and she hadn’t yet set a foot in the cave.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Wednesday, March 17
11:40 A.M.
Reed sat at his desk, staring blankly at his computer screen. He’d been unable to stop thinking about that last interview with Alex. He had replayed the things she’d said about Clarkson’s last call to her, the things about her father.
“Maybe my dad’s behind all of it. Even Dylan.”
She had come off as desperate and irrational. To him-and the entire team. Guilty of murder or not, they’d written her off as a first-class whack job.
That’s what he wanted to believe. His gut told him otherwise. Or were his personal feelings interfering with his professional judgment? In terms of the case, it didn’t matter. He was off it. But on a personal level, it bugged the hell out of him.
He wasn’t one of those guys, wasn’t one of those cops. He didn’t get personally involved. Didn’t let his emotions get in the way of rational thinking. So what the hell was going on here?
“Maybe my dad’s behind all of it. Even Dylan.”
A missing piece of the puzzle. One the investigators at the time wouldn’t have considered. Unless alerted by someone.
Patsy. She was the only one who would have been able to do that. Instead, she had run away. What had Harlan said? That Patsy had been overcome with guilt and despair.
The guilt fit now. She had suspected Alex’s father’s involvement, but had kept her mouth shut. Out of fear. Maybe. For her young daughter. For herself?
On a hunch, he picked up the phone and dialed information, retrieved San Francisco State’s number. The main office directed him to the College of Behavioral Sciences. There, the department secretary confirmed his hunch.
Tim Clarkson hadn’t had a faculty meeting the day before.
So, where the hell had he been? Why had he made certain Alex was out of the way for the day?
Her father. She’d been right. About it all. That’s why Tim had called her at the spa, meaning to leave a message for her. To prepare her.
Reed’s thoughts raced forward to the note her ex had left for her. I have news. Clarkson’s meeting with Alex’s father had been successful. Or so he had thought.
Why kill Clarkson?
Reed answered his own question. To keep his secret safe. Of course. But what secret? That he was Alex’s father? Or something more ominous?
“You okay, Reed?”
Tanner stood in his doorway. He motioned her in. “I’m good. And you’re just the person I needed to see.”
She wandered in, sank onto the chair across from him. “What’s up?”
“Followed a hunch and gave San Francisco State a call. Clarkson didn’t have a faculty meeting yesterday.”
“So one of them lied.”
“My bet’s on him.”