When she’d first come to the Rockfort Agency with her suspicions, Max and his partners had been skeptical. They’d thought she was overreacting to the murder of her high school friend, Angela Dawson, and to the lack of leads in the case. When she’d told them someone was murdering people from her high school class, they hadn’t seen any evidence of a serial murderer. But she’d asked a couple of questions that had gotten them at least considering her supposition.
“What if someone wants a bunch of my classmates dead? And what if they want it to look like the murders aren’t connected? So they do it in different ways to make it seem like random events.”
The theory had been intriguing—especially since Olivia had brought them newspaper clippings and Web accounts of three deaths among her classmates. One was Angela. One was a guy named Gary Anderson, and the third was Patrick Morris. The problem was they hadn’t come up with a motive. The best they could do was that all of the victims had been part of the “in crowd” back in high school.
The Rockfort men had discussed the case with Olivia, and she hadn’t been able to give them a reason for the murders, but Max was pretty sure she wasn’t telling them everything she knew. Since the two of them were spending a lot of time together, he had the chance to get it out of her—if he used the right approach. Unfortunately, he still wasn’t sure what that would be, but he sensed that he’d need to tread cautiously. Maybe her reactions to the people on the committee—and their reactions to her—would give him a clue. Then he’d have a better idea of questions to ask after the meeting.
***
As they walked down the corridor lined with photos of local scenes that must have been taken in the ’20s and ’30s, Olivia felt Max reach for her hand and knit his fingers with hers. If she were honest, it felt comforting to hold onto him. He was a physically imposing man, tall and well-muscled. And her talks with him had convinced her that he was a top investigator. Of course, some of the questions he’d asked her had made her uncomfortable. Like, for example, did she think she was a target of the killer, and why? She’d said she didn’t know, and she’d wondered how much she was going to have to say about her past.
She stopped worrying about that as they approached the Oak Room, where the meeting was being held, her professional training kicked in. Her head rose. Her shoulders straightened, and she took several breaths of the stale, refrigerated air. Max noticed the change in her immediately. Turning his head he murmured, “That’s my girl.”
His girl. She didn’t want to react, but she felt the warmth of those words spreading through her overcharged system, even though she was sure he had only meant them as a figure of speech. Or as part of the roles they were playing.
Before she could worry any more about the implications, they reached their destination.
Olivia took in the scene in one quick sweep. Small tables had been pushed together to make one long conference-type table. Around the room were about twenty people, some sitting in captain’s chairs, some loading small plates from a snack buffet, and some standing in informal knots talking. Included in the latter group were the people she’d seen in the parking lot—plus a bunch of others she remembered from her high school days. Was one of them a predator? Or were they all potential prey? Or was she wrong about this whole thing? That could be true, but her gut told her that the previous deaths were connected, and more people would die if she and Max didn’t figure out who wanted her classmates dead.
As her gaze swung to Tommy Larson and his date, Olivia had the feeling that they’d rushed inside to tell everyone she was going to be walking through the door with a hunky-looking guy, because it felt like everyone had been waiting for their arrival. Now all eyes turned toward them.
For a moment her facial muscles felt frozen, like the first time she’d stepped out onto a runway and known that her life was about to change for the better—if she didn’t screw up. The weight of that knowledge had almost choked off her breath, but somehow she’d managed to walk out there without falling on her face—or fainting. Back then she’d felt so unsure of herself. But since then she’d had years of experience playing the part that was expected of her. She swallowed hard and forced a smile that she knew didn’t meet her eyes.
“Hi, everyone. I’m so glad to be back in Howard County for a while. I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Max Lyon,” she said. “Max, these are some of the people I’ve been telling you about from my high school class.”
Chapter 3