The Class Reunion: A psychological suspense thriller Read online

  “Her mother didn’t want one. She was cremated.” Reagan hesitated. “There’s no easy way to tell you this, but her injuries were pretty horrific. They didn’t mention it in the news article, but she was bitten twice–-once in the face. One of the officers at the scene is a cousin of Dave’s. He said she was so swollen she was almost unrecognizable.”

  Heather scrunched her eyes shut, the phone clamped to her ear. Chow mein churned in her belly. “Poor Pam,” she rasped.

  “She’s gutted. I’m surprised she hasn’t contacted you,” Reagan said.

  “To be honest, Lindsay and I haven’t been in touch much lately—Christmas, birthdays, the odd email, that’s about it. We’ve both been so busy.”

  There was another long pause, and then Reagan said, “Look, I know you’ve got this highfalutin PI firm in LA now, but it would be good to see you again, for old time’s sake. The reunion’s only six weeks away. Like I mentioned, the former student council members are going to do something special to honor Lindsay that night. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but it would be great if you could be there too.”

  Heather blew out a breath. “I can probably pull it off if I move some things around.”

  “Wonderful!” Reagan gushed. “I’ll reserve a seat at our table for you.”

  Heather hung up and buried her face in her hands. A lone tear slid down her cheek. Lindsay had kept her secret safe all these years—it was up to her now to protect Lindsay’s.

  3

  Heather spotted Reagan first as she walked out into the arrival terminal pulling her black roller case behind her. Her backpack and most of her clothes were black too, with the odd gray or other coordinating neutral thrown in to refute any notion that she worked at a funeral home. It wasn’t that she disliked color. Black was merely a practical choice that made her job of blending into a crowd that much easier when she was shadowing a target. As she spent the bulk of her time working, or perfecting her skills at the gun range, a more vibrant wardrobe would serve no purpose other than to highlight her non-existent social life.

  Despite not having seen her former classmate in over a decade, Heather recognized Reagan immediately—the dark, wavy hair cascading around her pale, narrow face, the preoccupied slant of her shoulders, the impatient stance, one knee bent, tapping her toes. Reagan was oblivious to her arrival, typing furiously into her phone, a deep cleft in evidence between her brows. She had always been the uptight sort with a burning need to control, expecting everyone in her circle to kowtow to her. And they generally did. She had desperately wanted the position of class president their senior year, but she’d been trailing behind Heather in votes—at least until rumors started circulating that Heather was HIV positive. She’d always had a sneaking suspicion that Reagan was behind the rumors, but she had no way to prove it.

  Heather felt a small pang of anxiety in the pit of her stomach as she strode toward her. She wasn’t sure how Reagan was going to react to seeing her again. She would have preferred to stay with Violet and her husband, Boyd, but they were in New York on business. Reagan’s invitation to stay with her and her new husband, Dave, had sounded sincere on the phone, but they’d both been in shock at Lindsay’s unexpected death, feeling the need to reconnect over the tragedy. Would they have anything to talk about beyond that? Heather hadn’t even made the effort to attend Reagan’s wedding last year. And, despite having worked together on the student council, the underlying tension between them their senior year had eroded their friendship.

  In the end, Reagan’s campaign had been successful—partly due to the other student council members endorsing her. They had tried to soften the blow by assuring Heather that it was nothing personal. It was simply a fact that with all the rumors going around about her, Reagan was more likely to secure the vote. None of them knew what had happened to Violet a few weeks earlier, or the heartache Heather was hiding over it. They only knew she'd begun to distance herself from them around the time the rumors started.

  Heather sucked in a breath, steeling herself for the impending awkward reunion. Now that she was here, she was second-guessing her decision to come. A trip down memory lane was a terrifying proposition—sure to evoke a mixed bag of emotions. Deep inside she dreaded the possibility that she would fall apart under the weight of her guilt.

  Reagan looked up and threw a cursory glance around the terminal, her eyes breezing right past Heather at first and then flitting back and resting quizzically on her. Her lips parted, a confused frown forming. Heather smiled to let her know it was her, and, before she knew it, Reagan was wrapping her arms around her in a stiff embrace.

  “It’s good to see you again, Heather.” Reagan pulled back, and appraised her, gripping her by the shoulders. “It’s just horrible what happened to our poor Lindsay. I’m sure you’re still in shock—we all are. I can’t believe she’s gone just like that—who would have thought? The whole community’s reeling. People are scared to let their kids ride their bikes along the river. And of course the local news is sensationalizing it. They keep harping on about unusually aggressive snake activity this season. My daughter, Lucy, won’t hardly go out to the garden by herself anymore.”

  Heather gave a sympathetic nod. “How old is Lucy?”

  “Nine, going on nineteen,” Reagan replied, rolling her eyes. “Dave teases her that she’s going to save us a fortune on a college education because she already knows everything! Of course, being an only child, I will admit she’s a bit spoiled…”

  Heather let Reagan prattle on as they made their way out to the short-term parking lot. A wave of memories was surfing through her mind—picking up her grandparents at the airport when they came to visit, a trip to Disney World she and Violet had taken with their parents, and, of course, her farewell flight to LA twelve years earlier.

  Reagan clicked her key fob and opened the hatchback on a white Subaru SUV.

  “Would you mind if we called to visit Lindsay’s mom on the way?” Heather asked.

  “Pam went to stay with her sister and brother-in-law for a few weeks,” Reagan answered, gesturing for Heather’s bag. “I don’t think she had much choice. They insisted on taking her back with them.”

  Heather frowned. “Where do they live?”

  “Sioux City.” Reagan threw her a calculating look. “You won’t have time to drive up there and back before the reunion tomorrow night if that’s what you’re thinking. Maybe you could extend your ticket and drive up on Monday instead.”

  “I have to be back in LA Sunday night. I have a case I’m working on,” Heather explained. “It was all I could do to take the weekend off.”

  Reagan twisted her lips in a disapproving manner as she started up the car. “Well, at least you made it back for the reunion.”

  On the drive, they fell into uneasy conversation, catching each other up on their lives, and tossing around a few ideas for paying tribute to Lindsay at the reunion. Before long, they were pulling into the driveway of a modest brick home on a street lined with Dogwood trees. A smattering of reddish leaves dotted the asphalt hinting at the impending fall finale to come.

  “Pretty area you live in,” Heather commented as she climbed out of the car.

  A flicker of irritation crossed Reagan’s face before she answered. “It’s convenient—a twenty-minute drive to my office. Dave and I moved here after we got married.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him,” Heather said.

  “You’ll be glad to know he’s nothing like Lucy’s deadbeat biological father,” Reagan answered. “He adopted her shortly after we got married.”

  Heather bit her lip. She had never understood why Reagan had wasted years of her life on that loser, Roy Krueger. He’d refused to marry her, even after Lucy was born. And, from what Heather had gathered from Lindsay over the years, he was a shady character, always between jobs.

  The front door swung open as they walked up the steps and a young girl with thick, dark ringlets and huge, brown eyes peered out at them.r />
  “This is my daughter, Lucy,” Reagan said.

  Heather pulled off her sunglasses and smiled at her. “Nice to meet you. I’m Heather.”

  “Hello,” Lucy responded warily, before stepping aside to let her in.

  “You can leave your bags in the hall for now,” Reagan said. “I’ll introduce you to Dave.” Without waiting for a response, she strode down the hallway. “Honey? Where are you?”

  “In the kitchen,” a baritone voice called back.

  Heather followed Reagan into a French country style kitchen with a collection of ceramic roosters atop cream-colored cabinetry. Her mouth watered at the garlic-infused tomato sauce aroma that greeted her. A slim, salt-and-pepper-haired man was stirring a large pot on the stove top. When they entered, he set down his ladle on the spoon rest and wiped his hands on the towel hanging from his waist. “You must be Heather.” He extended a hand. “Welcome to our home. I’m Dave.”

  She shook his hand, noting the firm grip and the friendly eyes that met hers. She had been shocked to hear that Reagan was getting married only a year after ending her relationship with Roy, but it seemed she had finally found herself a decent man.

  “Hope you’re hungry,” Dave said. “I’m making a big pot of spaghetti Bolognese.” He gave her a disarming wink. “The girls tell me it’s my specialty—personally, I think my dance moves are more impressive than my cooking.”

  Heather chuckled. “It smells delicious. It has to be better than the leftovers I usually exist on.”

  “Come on, let’s take your bag up to your room and get you settled in,” Reagan said.

  Heather followed her upstairs and into a light and airy guest room at the back of the house. “Great view,” she remarked, looking out over the lawn and manicured shrubbery to the open fields and trees beyond.

  “Yes, we’re lucky,” Reagan agreed. “The house backs up to a park, so we’ll always have an unobstructed vista.”

  Heather flinched as it suddenly hit her all over again why she was here. “I was hoping we could drive out to the Great River Trail this evening.”

  Reagan threw her an alarmed look. “Tonight? I mean … we could go in the morning.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep unless I see where it happened,” Heather said. “It doesn’t seem real yet. I need closure before the reunion.”

  Reagan gave a dubious nod. “Okay. I’ll leave you to get unpacked. Come on down whenever you’re ready.”

  Heather unzipped her case and hung up her outfit for the reunion—black pants and a sleeveless black silk shirt—before freshening up in the bathroom.

  Dinner was an awkward affair with Reagan presiding over the conversation—waxing lyrical about her grandiose plans for the reunion. Heather was relieved when Dave rose from the table and began clearing away the dishes. “If you ladies are still planning on driving out to the trail you should go now before it gets dark. Lucy and I will clean up the kitchen.”

  “Thanks Dave. That was delicious,” Heather said as she got to her feet. “I can’t speak for your dancing, but your Bolognese lives up to its reputation.”

  Reagan parked her Subaru along the road near an entrance to the Great River Trail and unbuckled her seatbelt. “I’ll show you where they found her. It’s only a few hundred feet from here. They had the area taped off, but it’s open again now. The wreaths might still be there.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather go alone,” Heather said. “I won’t be long. I just need a few minutes to … talk to Lindsay.”

  Reagan arched an annoyed brow. “As you wish.”

  Heather climbed out of the car and walked briskly along the trail, hands shoved deep into her pockets, praying she didn’t bump into anyone she knew. The temperature was dropping but the fall foliage was in full bloom, warming her heart with memories of stomping through leaves as a child. A wave of grief hit with unexpected force when she spotted the wilting floral tribute up ahead. Her heart felt like someone was kneading it like dough. She slowed her pace to allow a jogger, who’d stopped at the makeshift memorial, time to move on. As soon as he resumed his run, she took a deep breath and made her way over to the wreaths. She hunkered down next to them and began reading the attached cards and notes. Several were names she recognized. Tears dampened her eyes as she whispered a few words to Lindsay letting her know how much she regretted allowing their friendship to wane over the years.

  When she was done, she got to her feet and walked around behind the display. A tiny piece of yellow caution tape tied around a tree trunk fluttered in the evening breeze. Heather walked over to examine it. Her eyes settled on a large nearby rock. She stuffed her hands back into her pockets and kicked at it in frustration. It was so horribly unfair—this should never have happened to someone as kind and accomplished as Lindsay. She turned aside and stomped deeper into the brush, trying not to scream her frustration aloud. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t encountered the randomness of death before in her line of work. But this was personal.

  Blinking through her tears, she caught sight of something glinting up at her in the evening sun. She kicked at the brush half-heartedly trying to identify it. Pulling one hand out of her pocket, she bent over and retrieved it. A stainless steel hook, about two inches long, attached to a threaded plastic handle that was cracked at the base. She turned it over, unsure of its purpose. It wasn’t a bike part, and it was too big to be a tool from Lindsay’s repair kit.

  A cold shiver traversed Heather’s shoulders as a disturbing thought struck her. Was it a coincidence that she’d found the hook so close to the spot where Lindsay had crashed? Or was it possible someone had used it as a trap—to catch the wheel of her bike?

  4

  The following afternoon, Reagan tucked her arm into Heather’s as they walked up to the marquee in the hotel foyer welcoming the North Valley High class of 1998.

  “Just as well you decided to come,” Reagan quipped. “I wouldn’t have had a date if it hadn’t been for you.”

  Lucy had come down with a fever at the last minute and Dave had volunteered to stay home with her. Truth be told, Heather thought he looked more relieved than disappointed at the prospect of missing the reunion. She suspected he was tired of hearing Reagan droning on about it and dreading the introductions she had lined up for him. Playing Reagan’s sidekick was not an enviable role.

  “It’s too bad Dave couldn’t be here,” Heather replied, disengaging herself from Reagan’s grip.

  “I was so looking forward to introducing him to everyone,” Reagan answered with a dramatic sigh. “But I couldn’t have found a babysitter at such short notice, and there’s no way I can miss the reunion as chair of the planning committee.”

  Heather stretched a polite smile over her lips. Reagan hadn’t changed much—never missing an opportunity to let everyone know how important she was.

  As soon as they stepped inside the banquet room reserved for the event, Reagan began flitting around fussing with decorations and directing the hotel staff to make last-minute adjustments to the layout. They had arrived three hours early, which Heather suspected might exasperate the staff who were still setting up. But Reagan had wanted to make sure there were no eleventh-hour glitches to her meticulous plans.

  “So, what do you think? Looks amazing, doesn’t it?” she remarked, beaming at Heather as she finished laying out the name tags on the check-in table. “Josh and I came up with the Better With Age theme. We have charcuterie platters with aged cheeses from all around the world. And we’re serving wine that’s the same vintage as our graduation year.”

  “Somebody say my name?”

  Heather spun around to see Josh Halverson striding toward them. He’d filled out a little since high school, and there were a few telltale grays sprouting up around his temples, but he was still a strikingly handsome man with the kind of smile that generally greased the way in life.

  “Well, look who’s back in town!” he said, walking straight up to Heather and embracing her. “Good to see you again.
I’m so sorry about Lindsay. You were closer to her than any of us, but we’re all gutted over it.”

  Heather took a ragged breath, fighting a rogue wave of emotion. “It was so unexpected … and gruesome.”

  Josh gave a weighty nod. “Lindsay would be glad you came tonight.” He ran his eyes over her slim frame. “You look great, by the way. That LA lifestyle must agree with you. All that sunshine, I suppose.”

  Heather gave a wry grin. “I’m on the vampire shift. I mostly work nights—surveillance type stuff—and sleep during the day.”

  Josh regarded her with a mock contemplative air. “And you’re dressed all in black—maybe you really are a vampire. Guess we’ll find out as the night progresses.”

  Heather laughed self-consciously. Was he flirting with her or was she reading too much into it?

  “Josh has weathered the years pretty well himself, don’t you think?” Reagan gushed, digging her nails into his arm as she snuggled up next to him. “Keep him in mind if you have any single gal pals in LA looking to date a hot doctor.”

  Josh cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “You probably heard that Ally and I split?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry,” Heather said. “I was surprised to hear that, to be honest. High school sweethearts and all.”

  Josh gave a disheartened shrug. “It was best we parted ways. She cheated on me with a colleague, and things were never the same after that. We kept bickering over the stupidest things, taking separate vacations—doing everything people in healthy relationships don’t do. But enough of that depressing topic. Let’s focus on tonight.”

  “What do you think of the set up?” Reagan cut in, gesturing to the sea of round tables with white floor-length tablecloths, black napkins, and silver candelabras glinting under the lights strung around the room. “I did a quick walk around and everything looks good.”

  “Thanks to your ninja organizational skills,” Josh said. “Where’s your beau tonight?”