As she organized Barbara’s files for Bruce so he could help her son settle Barbara’s estate, she noticed that one folder had an old photograph of the members of the Town Council. They were standing in front of City Hall. In it, a much younger Colin stood beside Marshall. Walt was beside Colin, and Marshall had his arm around Margaret. Barbara was in it too, a little off to the side, looking uncomfortable. The back of the photo had a date, and a scribbled note she recognized written in what she recognized as Marshall’s unruly handwriting. “To our prosperous future.”

  Chills ran down Judith’s spine. Someone had drawn a crude representation of the triangle, eye, and vine. All of this had started so long ago. If only Barbara had spoken up, then.

  Still, she had no proof. What she needed was Marshall’s computer. Find that, they’d find the killer and whoever else was involved in the coverup.

  Glancing at her watch, Judith realized the morning was almost gone, and the funeral was just an hour away. She couldn’t believe that it was happening so soon, and was going to be such an enormous affair. But that was Margaret, always going for the chance to be in front of the public.

  Booker had asked them all to be there. Maybe someone would do or say something that would help them find answers. As Judith quickly changed into something appropriate for a February funeral, her resolve strengthened. Even though she had no proof, it felt to her as if they were getting closer to solving both crimes, the murder, and the illegal activities. And there was always the chance that Walt would show up, and just say he had taken a few days off, and he would tell them everything they needed to know to prove what had happened.

  Dream on, she said to herself. Walt’s disappearance was disturbing. Did he leave on purpose, or did someone take him? She had to hope he had simply taken time to decide what to do, but she knew that probably that wasn’t what happened.

  Forty Eight

  The funeral was packed, just as Margaret had intended it to be. She had made sure everyone in town knew when it was, and even if they weren’t invited, they would watch the news. And as planned, she stood out. She made sure that the press, as agreed, had their cameras on her as much as possible.

  During the eulogy, she cried just enough to be seen as having a heart, but not so much that she looked weak. Instead, she was the strong, capable woman who had always stood by Marshall’s side and now, of course, would continue his legacy.

  She gracefully wove into the eulogy the fact that it had been less than a week between the celebration of Marshall’s life as the Mayor, to this honoring of the man who had made the town the beautiful, safe, and peaceful place that they all loved. His death was a tragedy, and she would make sure someone paid for taking away their beloved mayor.

  It was perfection, and Margaret knew it. She had the town crying and feeling sorry for her while wanting her to lead them into the future. It was a gift, one that Margaret did not take lightly. She practiced. She had hired coaches and trainers. Not from town, though. Never someone local. She couldn’t have it appear as if what she did wasn’t effortless.

  Conferences and trainings had always given her the excuse to get out of town, where she would spend early evenings socializing as was expected of her. But then she would meet whatever expert she had hired in the hotel room and do the work. A lot of it.

  If someone saw people coming to her room and thought she was having affairs, it wouldn’t matter. That was to be expected. That she was training herself would not be as accepted or approved of. Especially because she was a woman.

  At the thought of all the work she had put into becoming the master of any room, Margaret smiled to herself while gritting her teeth against the unfairness of the world that always put men in charge and on a pedestal. Most of them were bumbling fools.

  Except Marshall, who had also put in the work to become the man that he was. But being a man studying to be a better orator or leader was admired. Still, it wasn’t his fault that he was a man. Marshall had believed in her, and she would forever be grateful to him. She knew it was entirely possible to be grateful to her mentor and, at the same time, be glad that he was gone.

  His death paved the way nicely to her next goal. She had always intended to knock all the men who thought they were in charge off of their righteous stances. Spring Falls was just the beginning. A few years as mayor, then governor, then the ultimate prize.

  But she couldn’t give any of those plans away just yet. Today, and until they elected her mayor, she would give the people of Spring Falls whatever they wanted. The people needed to relate to her, and that meant a lot of listening, and then saying the exact right thing at the exact right time. But she had trained for this moment. She was ready.

  Watching Margaret, Colin could feel the anger that always burned deep within his gut start to flair up. She was working the room, stealing the show, making herself out to be the savior of the town. And he finally admitted to himself what he had tried to ignore for years. They had never been a team. None of them had.

  When Marshall was alive, they had all agreed that he was the leader. Of course he was. He had the plans. He had the know-how. Marshall had the hearts of everyone in town. Almost everyone loved and admired him. Only a few dissenters spoke out against him each year when he ran for mayor.

  No one really listened to anyone who opposed the Mayor. Why would they? Each year, the town prospered. Colin knew that even if people had suspected that the Mayor was doing side deals, they wouldn’t have cared, as long as it didn’t affect them, and they had a safe, beautiful town to live in. If someone was suffering for it, as long as they didn’t know about it, or it didn’t affect them, they would ignore it.

  All of them had taken advantage of Marshall’s popularity. And Colin thought they all had agreed that they were equal under his rule. But now he had to fully accept that it hadn’t been true. Margaret had never intended to share anything. He had been duped. He was Margaret’s lackey, her boy-toy, the go-to guy who did the dirty work while she took all the credit.

  While Margaret stood in front of the town declaring herself Marshall’s chosen one, not once had she turned to him to bring him into the limelight with her. Colin saw it so clearly now. He had been used. They all had, but what did he care about them? It was time for it to be all about him.

  Watching Margaret at work, Colin felt as if all that he had done had been worthless. What had he gotten out of it? A little popularity. Money. Yes, but it hadn’t been enough.

  Until that moment, watching Margaret, Colin had not fully understood how much he had wanted to be the one that people admired and looked up to. After all, he was the one who had done so much of Marshall’s work behind the scenes. But of course, he couldn’t get the glory for that. It had to be Margaret who simply gave orders and expected them to be carried out.

  As on the night of Marshall’s retirement party, Colin’s anger now expanded and a red haze folded over him. He knew that feeling. He knew it was the kind of anger that caused wars, and in his own family, had made his father such a bully and tyrant that Colin had barely survived. Usually, he could contain the anger. He would let it simmer, but never burn hot. But today, he would not tamp it down. Instead, he was going to use it.

  Slipping away from the funeral was easy. No one cared that he was there. All eyes were on Marshall’s casket and Margaret standing beside it, acting as the appointed guardian both for Marshall’s legacy and the future of Spring Falls.

  We’ll see about that, Colin said to himself. He may never be the Mayor of Spring Falls, but his bags were already packed to go somewhere warm and sunny where he’d be unknown and happy. He had enough money to last many lifetimes. Let the town fall apart. It didn’t matter the slightest to him.

  But before he left, he’d let the red haze fuel him like never before, and he’d make sure that Marshall and Margaret, and all the rest of the people involved, would fall off the pedestals that the town had put them on.

  The town thought they were safe from people like him, and yet all along he had been there, along with the others who didn’t give a rat’s ass about the town. They were there for the power and the money. At least he had been. And he now would do something that would hurt them all.

  Slipping out the back door, he made the phone call to put his plans into action. Getting into his car, already packed to go, he was finally happy. He was cleaning up the mess they had made. The plans had been in place. He just hadn’t been ready before. Now he was.

  On the other end of the phone, Leon Price laughed. “You crazy bastard. Sounds fun.”

  Leon hung up, checked his bank account to make sure Colin had transferred the money, and headed to the developments. The girl had been rescued, so he wasn’t worried about her now. Instead, every development would burn. One last job for Colin, and then it was time for him to leave town, too.

  Forty Nine

  Margaret was heading to the back of the church in order to shake people’s hands as they exited, when she first smelled the smoke. At first she thought she was smelling fireplace smoke. There were a few people in town who used wood to heat their homes.

  But then someone else asked, “Do you smell smoke?”

  The crowd paused for a split second, before people started rushing to the door. Booker’s cell phone rang. Glancing at the message, he stepped up to the podium and spoke through the microphone, “Don’t panic, it’s not this building.”

  The crowd looked back at him, but stopped only for a moment before continuing to push their way out the open door.

  Booker knew they were wondering, even if it wasn’t this building, where was it? Why was the smoke smell so strong?

  At that moment, the fire alarm rang throughout the town. The crowd paused for a moment before pushing even harder to get out the door. Booker yelled, “Let us through.” Finally, the crowd moved aside to let Booker and half of the men in the church out the door. Everyone knew where they were going.

  Spring Falls had a few permanent firefighters, but most of the squad was comprised of volunteers. And most of those volunteers were at Marshall’s funeral service.

  Within minutes, the church was empty. Outside, those that weren’t heading to the fires stood frozen in place. It seemed impossible, but there were plumes of smoke rising into the clear blue sky from every direction.

  Judith stood outside with all the Ruby Sisters, shivering in the winter wind, trying to decide where they could be the most help. Glancing back through the open doors into the chapel, Judith noticed that Margaret had walked back to Marshall’s casket and was standing alone beside it. His burial would have to be another day. Judith thought it was one of the saddest things she had ever seen. Margaret and Marshall together. No longer the center of attention.

  Margaret looked up to see Judith watching her and smiled. She couldn’t let that woman see how affected she was by the destruction of her plans to be seen as the savior of the town. Leading Marshall’s procession to the cemetery would have been the highlight of the day.

  But here she was, alone, and there was Judith, surrounded by friends. She stood next to the one man she had related to, and now he was gone. And even though she hadn’t looked outside to see where the fires were, she already knew.

  What they had built together was burning.

  “I’m sorry, Marshall,” she whispered to the casket, and then turned and walked away. Away from the people standing at the front of the chapel. Away from her plans. It was time to make new plans.

  However, as she walked, she thought about what she was giving up if she walked away and realized she didn’t want to. She wanted what she had always wanted, and this was only a minor setback. She could fix it. And she thought she knew exactly what to do. It was a Hail-Mary pass, but she might be able to pull it off. If anyone could do it, it would be her.

  But there wasn’t much time. Whoever spoke first would win, and that meant she would have to hurry. Turning back, she placed a call to have the camera crew meet her in the chapel. She would stand again beside Marshall’s casket and reveal who had set the fires and who killed Marshall.

  Booker and his team were busy. She’d be in charge while they tried to put out fires. All she had to do was convince everyone that what she told them was true. And since some of it was, that shouldn’t be too hard.

  They’d believe her because they wanted to believe it. No one wanted to believe that she and Marshall had orchestrated what had now turned into chaos. They would willingly accept that it was someone else. And she’d hand them that person on a platter. Signed, sealed, and delivered. It would be close enough to the truth to be the truth.

  She could still keep the hearts and minds of Spring Falls and keep all her plans in place. This is what she had trained herself to do. She would put on the performance of her life. Lie, lie, lie and keep on lying. Anything that didn’t agree with her lies would be fake news. She knew it would work. It worked in the big picture. It would certainly work in a small town that wanted to believe her.

  She stopped in the church restroom to check her makeup and hair. Thinking she looked a little too perfect, she messed it up just enough to look as if this tragedy had affected her.

  It had. Just not in the way anyone would think or be willing to believe.

  Fifty

  Margaret’s performance was magnificent. She began her press conference standing beside the casket. Then she moved outside, where she angled herself so there was smoke and fire behind her while she promised the residents of Spring Falls that she would find the person responsible and make sure they were punished for their crimes.

  Because she hinted she knew who it was, the press wouldn’t let her alone. They pushed and prodded, demanding answers. After much equivocating, she finally gave them enough hints that the press decided she must mean that it was Colin Parker.

  “Was it Colin Parker?” They shouted at her. Not answering the question directly, she added, “He probably had help if it was.”

  It was a crazy thing to do, and Margaret knew it. If she was wrong, she was finished. But she didn’t think she was, and she was pretty sure she knew who helped him.

  The frenzy of questions thrown at her after that announcement was just what Margaret wanted. It was okay because she was positive it was Colin. After all, she had pushed him into it. Knowing that, it buoyed her assurance to the crowd.

  She had seen Colin’s face when she had given him no attention or credit during her eulogy for Marshall. She had ignored him on purpose. Margaret knew of his temper. And she hoped she could tip him over the edge to do something irrevocably stupid in public. And she had. She had watched him slip out of the church, and when she saw the fires, she knew it had to be him who had set them. It wasn’t exactly what she expected him to do, but she could make it work.

  And, of course, he couldn’t have set all those fires on his own so quickly. Colin would have called Leon Price, the man who often did Colin’s dirty work. Margaret considered it ironic that Leon owned a cleaning company, knowing that there were many kinds of cleaning up that Leon did. Especially for Colin.

  Leon was a piece of work. Charming, cool, and utterly without a moral compass. She thought that Leon’s last name of Price fit him perfectly. He had a price for everything.

  Margaret knew exactly when Colin and Leon met. She had been having lunch with Colin when a nice-looking young man had come over to their table and introduced himself. That was another thing about Leon. He was not shy about promoting himself. He used his good looks to his advantage. Leon had the kind of smile that made you want to smile back, even though you weren’t sure you could trust him.

  That day, Leon had explained that he was new in town, had heard that Colin was the premier real estate broker in town, and he wanted to introduce himself. Leon had told them both that his goal was to have the company that every real estate agent used to clean homes before they were sold.

  Colin had taken to Leon immediately, treating him like the son he never had. With Colin’s help and backing, it didn’t take long for Leon’s dream to come true. Within a few years, it was Leon’s company that almost everyone called to clean up after events or parties. His company was also the choice of many businesses in town to clean their buildings after work. Leon’s crews were everywhere.

  That happened not only because of Colin’s help. It was Leon himself. He was a natural. Within months, Leon knew almost everyone in town, and everyone knew of him. Watching Leon work a room, Margaret had thought that, in his own way, Leon was a lot like Marshall. He easily won hearts and minds. And he was a natural businessman, learning quickly from mistakes and shifting directions as needed.

  But despite all that, Margaret couldn’t say she knew much about Leon. He was a public figure, but a very private person. The only personal thing she knew about him was that his mother had died and he had come to town, looking to start a new life with the money his mother had left him. He had never mentioned a father, so she had to assume that he was not in the picture.

  Colin had continued to support Leon, and their relationship had matured into good friends and business partners. Colin was a stuck-up, arrogant prick who could appear nice when he wanted to, but Leon was comfortable with him, and Colin seemed to genuinely care for Leon.

  In some ways, they were the same. They were both masters at manipulating the public’s attention and using it to their advantage. Margaret had admired them both for that ability. After all, it was her and Marshall’s specialty, too.

  It didn’t mean she liked and trusted them though, and given that they had brought this mess on themselves, she had no hesitation in throwing them both under the bus. Her guess was that they would never be found, so they would not care in the long run about what she did. She assumed they had set the fires and left town, leaving her free to blame them for everything. In the end, she’d blame them for Marshall’s death, too.

  As she acted out the role of her life, Margaret quietly thanked herself for becoming the kind of woman who knew how to set up this scenario in advance to her advantage. No, it hadn’t gone exactly as planned. But it was close enough.