run away together. But the letter was never retrieved from the tree, because in the middle of the night, Myles and Laurel both died.
While Laurel had confided in her father that Carl stalked her, the new letter spelled out that she’d discovered that Carl knew about her and Myles, and that she feared Carl would tell her husband. I thought about Jacob lying on the kitchen floor struggling for life, and again I wondered why Carl did what he did. He was angry with Laurel, perhaps, that I understood. But why did he attempt to kill his best friend? Why did he murder Anna and the two children?
As I walked toward the Suburban, I clicked through the evidence, compiled a mental inventory. A thought occurred to me, and I called Stef at the station. “I need you to do something for me,” I said. “I just realized that a document was missing when I went through the Johansson files yesterday. We need to check on it. I’m looking for the response to a subpoena.”
I gave Stef the information, and she promised to track it down and call me ASAP. When I reached the Suburban and climbed inside, I placed Laurel’s letter on the passenger seat. Time clicked by. I thought of Max waiting at the cabin. He would be expecting me. I thought of Naomi and Jacob. I wondered where they’d marry. Probably at the ward house in town where Jacob’s father used to be bishop. I looked at my watch and decided that it wouldn’t be long before the wedding.
“Chief,” Stef said. “I’ve got it. And this is odd…”
When I pulled up at the ward house, the parking lot looked nearly full, and the squad car I had guarding Jeremy was parked out front. I was relieved to see Conroy behind the wheel. He looked surprised to see me, but I didn’t take time to explain. “Come with me,” I said. “We’re going inside.”
“What are we—” he started to ask.
“Just follow my lead,” I ordered.
It turned out that I was arriving with the guests attending the wedding, not truly dressed for the event in my black jeans and white shirt, my parka over the top. No one appeared to notice me, however, and I worked my way through the small crowd with Conroy trailing behind me.
I spotted her easily, in the center of the hive of women tittering around her. Mother Naomi looked lovely in an off-white dress with lace ruffles at the neckline. I wondered if it was the same dress she’d worn to marry my father, or if she’d made it for the occasion. Naomi always had been exceptionally talented with a sewing machine, and she’d covered the buttons that ran down the front. Holding Jeremy, she bounced him to keep him quiet, as she had that day at the ranch while she told me what she’d found when she arrived. It had only been a few days since he’d started on formula, but he looked as if he’d picked up a little weight. I had the fleeting thought that Laurel would be pleased. When Naomi saw me, she stormed toward me, still holding the infant to her chest.
“Clara, it is nice of you to want to attend the wedding, but you’re not supposed to be here,” she said. “You know that only members of Elijah’s People in good standing are allowed at the ceremony.”
“Oh, no worries. I’m not staying,” I said, flashing her a smile. “I just wanted to give my congratulations to the groom, tell him how lucky he is to marry you.” I looked around the room. “Where is Jacob?”
Naomi seemed taken aback by that. She glanced around. “Well, that’s nice, I suppose. But again, you aren’t supposed to be here,” she said. Moving closer to me, she whispered as if we were conspiring: “You’d better make it fast. Your mother should be arriving soon, and she won’t be as even-tempered as I am.”
I gave Naomi a smile that said not to worry. “I’ll only be here for a moment. Again, where’s Jacob? He’s not chickening out, is he?”
“Of course not! We’re both so excited,” she said, but then she cast her eyes down, as if she realized it could be construed as unfitting at such a time. “I mean, he’s still grieving, of course. Poor Anna and Laurel, those two beautiful children.”
“Yes,” I said. “Poor Anna and Laurel, Benjamin and Sybille. Such a terrible loss.”
“Of course.” She leaned close and whispered, “Clara, do