Then he smiled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Now
Hannah had no idea what flowers you bought for an estranged and now deceased aunt. There wasn’t a stargazer lily specifically to say, I’m sorry everyone thinks you’re a killer, but I don’t. Not really, but maybe we should have talked about that.
She stood in the florist’s shop—Pam’s Blossoms—the only one in town, with a clerk Hannah could only assume was Pam herself, and stared at the prearranged baskets. So many purple and pink carnations. Aunt Fae could do a better job herself. Hannah obviously should have done this earlier, but she’d never been in charge of a funeral before.
Hannah checked her watch, an idea taking hold. Could she make it up the mountain and back down in time? Maybe. A bouquet from Fae’s own garden might be perfect if Hannah could pull it off.
She left the shop, breathless, and ran directly into a wall of a man.
“Whoa, slow down there. Where you rushing off to?”
Reggie. His face broke out into a slow smile.
“Hi, Reggie,” Hannah said, keeping her tone light. He was in black dress pants and a white button-down. A bead of sweat worked its way down his neck, behind his ear.
“I’m glad I ran into you.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Or you ran into me. I was hoping to get you alone for a minute.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” Hannah checked her watch. She only had an hour before the service, and Huck was waiting for her back at Brackenhill. She cursed her own lack of forethought. She could have done this yesterday. The days seemed to be blending together.
Reggie leaned forward, his shoulder touching hers. His breath smelled like mint and cigarettes. “I’ve thought about you a lot over the years, you know? The mysterious Brackenhill sisters.”
“You don’t act like a cop,” Hannah said, her voice reedy, betraying her own nerves. Reggie always set her teeth on edge. His hooded eyes felt like they were dissecting her and finding her lacking. His permanently curved lips felt like mockery, except when his gaze got caught on her mouth. Hannah could never tell if he was trying to flirt with her or scare her. Perhaps with Reggie, the line between was too thin.
“Well, I’m on your aunt’s case with Detective McCarran. Sorry, Wyatt.” His voice took on a sarcastic edge.
Hannah put some distance between them until her back was flush with a lamppost, and she realized too late she was cornered. Reggie took a step forward, closing the gap.
“There’s a lot I never understood about that summer. Wyatt is a steel trap about all of it.”
Good, Hannah wanted to say but didn’t.
Reggie ran his index finger down Hannah’s bare arm, bringing gooseflesh to the surface. He didn’t seem inclined to let her go anytime soon.
“What did you want to know?” Hannah closed her eyes. If she told him what he wanted to know, would he let her leave? Why did Rockwell and all the people in it seem so intent on holding her captive?
“For starters, were you and Wyatt really a thing? I always thought you made that up. A little girl with a crush.”
“I was fifteen. Hardly a little girl.” Hannah hated the defensive edge in her tone, playing into Reggie’s mind games.
“Then what your sister did was pretty low, even for her.”
“What does that mean?” Hannah’s nostrils flared. The anger felt like a fist on her throat.
“Well, it was no secret she was a bitch.” Reggie leaned against her, his lips to her ear. Much too close, too intimate. “But to kiss her sister’s boyfriend?”
“She didn’t know. No one knew,” Hannah said, her voice tight and garbled. She felt paralyzed by Reggie, his bulk, his smell, her innate fear of him. She gently pushed him back with her fingertips, and he took her hint. Stepped out of her space, pushed his hands into his pockets, and cocked his head. And too late, she added softly, “He wasn’t my boyfriend, anyway.”
“Right. And Wyatt didn’t tell anyone. Which is kind of . . .” He let his voice trail off. “Shitty, right?”
“I don’t know, Reggie. It was seventeen years ago. I think I’m over it by now.” Hannah faked a laugh, trying to bring some levity into the conversation. She looked at her watch pointedly.
“I wouldn’t be. I mean, how mad must you have been?” He smiled at her again, and she couldn’t help but notice how white his teeth were, how pretty he was. Like a movie star. She wondered if women still fawned over him the way all the girls had. His skin had kept the sheen of his youth. His eyes were bright green, his hair still thick and blond, his cheeks still ruddy.
“I was mad at the time, Reggie, sure. But we were sisters.” Hannah shrugged as if saying, That’s what happens.
“I wonder, though,” he said amiably, quietly, “were you mad enough to kill her?”
Hannah recoiled in horror, turned her head away from him, the tears springing to her eyes hot and quick.
“Is that what people think?” Hannah choked out.
“I don’t know what everyone else thinks. People seem to buy into the theory that your aunt went crazy. Maybe she tried to run away, and your aunt found her and snapped.” Reggie’s voice was still lazy and slow. “People snap all the time for different reasons. We see it a lot.”
“No one snapped.”
“Are you sure? I mean, who could blame you.” Reggie stepped back, letting her go, finally. He removed a toothpick from his pocket and stuck it between his teeth. “I’ll see you at the service, I assume?”
Hannah edged sideways, keeping Reggie in her peripheral view. Afraid to turn her back to him. Her car was parked right up the street. She could make out the back end, the curved taillights of her older Honda.
Did people really think she’d killed her own sister? No. This was just Reggie, screwing with her mind. Scrambling her thoughts. Trying to scare her because scaring women turned him on. He got off on the power of it. She remembered the Rockwell Fish Fry in the park. That awful, awful festival in town. Even now, when she saw fireworks, she felt vaguely sick. Reggie’s voice hot in her ear, calling her pretty. The way he’d made her feel: like one of them, but in a bad way. She needed to get away from him. Now there was nothing but repulsion. And fear.
“Oh, hey, one more thing.” He jogged up to her, keeping even with her pace, which had quickened. He reached out, grabbed her forearm. Not hard, but enough to stop her from moving. She turned to him, unease certainly written all over her face. “I’m sorry about your aunt.”
“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.” She jerked her arm away, unsure of what to do with her anger. Unsure where it came from or even if it was misdirected. Maybe she’d misread the whole exchange. Maybe Reggie was just doing his job. How could Wyatt stand him?
“A lot of strange happenings up in that castle on the hill, you know? All them missing girls years ago. Then your aunt and uncle move in, and there are more missing girls.”
“Julia ran away,” Hannah answered quickly, defensively. She said it rotely, automatically. She felt like she’d said it a million times since she’d come to Rockwell. Everyone questioning, even when they didn’t verbalize it. Wyatt, Alice, Reggie, even Huck.