Dying to Remember

  DYING TO

  REMEMBER

  BY

  JUDY FITZWATER

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events described in this novel are fictitious and are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2000 and 2011 by Judy Fitzwater

  Originally published by The Ballantine Publishing Group, August 2000.

  Cover art copyright © 2011 by Vanessa Garcia

  All rights reserved. This book, or any part of it, cannot be reproduced or distributed by any means without express permission in writing from the author.

  Prologue

  Twelve Years Ago

  “Geez, Danny, how many hands do you have?” Jennifer Marsh swatted at her date’s ear and managed to push herself back against the passenger door of the old Chevrolet, seriously wrinkling the ice-blue satin of her prom gown. The guy was an octopus. When they’d left to get away from the scene his former girlfriend was making in the gym, she’d had something more subtle in mind, like a few stolen kisses, not an all-out grab fest or a game of tonsil hockey.

  “Aw, c’mon, Jen. You know how I feel about you.”

  She stared at those gorgeous dark brown eyes and that dark wavy hair, and her heart skipped a beat. The streetlight near the school parking lot cast an eerie silver glow across the unshadowed part of his face. He did care. She could tell. But about what?

  Without warning, Danny dove for her neck, and she ducked to her right, up against the glove compartment. He bumped his head on the door and cursed.

  “Keep it up and you’re going to tear your tuxedo. It is rented, isn’t it?”

  “Okay, okay. Maybe I’m taking this a little too fast.” Danny sat back behind the wheel and rubbed the bruise on his forehead. “What say we talk a little?”

  Jennifer righted herself in the seat and stared out the windshield at the school’s loading dock, wondering why her image of this night, the night of her senior prom, bore such little resemblance to reality.

  At least her hair had survived. But then, the mass of taffy brown curls across the back of her head was so full of hair spray it would take a major explosion to move it.

  Fingering the crumpled petals on the rosebud cluster of her corsage, she remembered how beautiful it had looked when he’d pinned it to her gown at her house. Red roses. The symbol of true love.

  She felt Danny’s hand find hers, lacing his fingers with her own. They sat there quietly, neither daring to say a word or even steal a glance. A sweet sadness tugged at her heart. Maybe, somehow, the evening might still be saved. Any second, Danny might turn to her and say exactly the right words...

  The blow to the driver’s side window made her jump and shot a spear of terror through Jennifer’s heart, filling her mind with every scene from every horror movie she’d ever seen about young lovers alone in a car late at night.

  She forced herself to look. A stocky young man stared through the glass, his shaggy brown hair falling in his face. He hit the window with his fist a second time, the white sleeve of his letter man’s jacket flat against the glass. At least he didn’t have a hook.

  “Hey, Buckner. Need your help, man.”

  Danny opened the door a crack, allowing a wisp of cool night air to rush in.

  “It’s my dad’s car, man. Break that window and I’ll break your head,” Danny told him. Then he nodded in her direction. “Can’t you see I’m busy? Catch me later.”

  As the boy turned toward the light, Jennifer recognized him as one of the guys Danny hung out with, one she didn’t particularly care for. He had what looked like panic on his face.

  “Not later. Now, Danny boy,” he insisted, wedging his shoulder between the open door and the car’s frame. “You gotta come. I ain’t goin’ away. You gotta help, man.”

  “You guys need to lighten up. It’s the senior prom, for God’s sake.” Danny muttered several nasty oaths and then gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Lock the doors. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  And then he was gone, leaving her to stare into the creepy darkness, waiting. Shivering. Alone. Waiting, all by herself, past the far end of the school parking lot on a spring Georgia night, the night that was supposed to be the highlight of her young life.

  Chapter 1

  High school. The words made Jennifer Marsh shudder. She’d left all thoughts of it behind her twelve years ago, and she wasn’t about to go back. Not for love, not for money, and certainly not for a plate of fettuccine Alfredo and a chocolate sundae.

  “It’s your ten-year reunion,” Jennifer reminded Leigh Ann as calmly as she could, across the small, round table at Luigi’s, irritated that she’d been suckered into a lunch date with a secret agenda. She’d actually put on a skirt for this?

  She should have known something was up when Leigh Ann had offered to treat. “You don’t need me to go with you, and I certainly have no desire to see any of those people ever again.”

  “I think you just insulted me. I’m one of those people,” Leigh Ann reminded her, tugging at the lapel of her jade-colored suit. The petite brunette scooped up a spoonful of syrup, drizzled it over her vanilla ice cream, and kept her green eyes focused on the thin stream of chocolate. Luigi kept the syrup just for her. Sundaes weren’t on the menu.

  “It’s for all classes,” Leigh Ann went on, “like it always is, so they can get a big enough crowd to warrant using the school gym. Everybody’s going to be there.”

  Leigh Ann cleared her throat. “Danny Buckner is coming. He does every year, just waiting for you to show up. I’m sure he’s dying to see you again.”

  The mention of Danny’s name, even all these years later, sent a twinge through her heart.

  She grabbed Leigh Ann’s spoon away from her, dripping fudge on the white tablecloth, and shook it at her. “Why you would think I’d still be interested in the likes of Danny Buckner—”

  A lady at the next table raised an eyebrow, and Jennifer lowered her voice.

  Leigh Ann rolled her eyes. “You were smitten with the boy, Jen.”

  “Smitten? What kind of word is that?” Jennifer demanded in a loud whisper. “People haven’t been ‘smitten’ for the last fifty years. Besides, he’s married.”

  “Well yeah, to Sheena Cassidy. But I always considered that a temporary condition.”

  If looks could burn, Leigh Ann would have gone up in flames. “Ten years can hardly be considered temporary,” Jennifer pointed out.

  Leigh Ann held up her hands in defense. “You are so touchy. Besides, I was just stating my opinion. I certainly wasn’t suggesting that you start something up with him again. I just thought you might be curious, after all these years, to know how he turned out.”

  Jennifer dropped her gaze. She could almost feel her friend studying her face, which must be glowing a soft pink if the heat she felt in her cheeks was any indication.

  “Sheena kind of did a number on you, didn’t she?” Leigh Ann observed.

  That was an understatement. Once Sheena realized Danny had set his sights on Jennifer, her only mission was to turn Jennifer’s life into a living hell. No boy could possibly be worth going through all that. And Jennifer’s inability to handle the situation was one of the true regrets of her life.

  “But you still went to the senior prom with him,” Leigh Ann reminded her.

  Jennifer dropped the spoon back into Leigh Ann’s stemmed ice cream glass and turned an even brighter red. She couldn’t tell Leigh Ann it was as much an act of revenge as a fulfillment of a crush. Evil, terrible revenge against Sheena for all the horrible things that short-skirted, mean-to-the-bone junior squad cheerleader had done to her. And she’d paid for that revenge dearly.

  Prom had been one of the worst nights of her life. And not just because Sheena had tried to
take Danny away from her on the dance floor, or because she’d come home to a house with toilet paper streaming from the trees.

  “I think you should go,” Leigh Ann insisted with bright eyes, scooping up another bite of sundae. “You’ve got your college degree, you’re writing your books, you’re working with Dee Dee in her catering business making those vegetable flower wreaths that are true works of art, you’ve got no gray in your hair and no lines in your face except when you smile really big, you haven’t gained an ounce, and you’ve got all your teeth.”

  “All my teeth? I’m only thir..” The word stuck in her throat. She’d found no graceful way to ease into the next decade of her life. It’d come upon her like a tiger in the night, ripping her youth from her and leaving her in shock. Like it or not, she was one of the grown-ups now.

  And her life plan—to have her mystery writing career well under way by this time—was all askew. If she gave in and went to the reunion, what would she say when people asked her what she did for a living? She could hardly tell them she was a wannabe—with nine unpublished manuscripts gathering dust in her closet and more rejection slips than Gone with the Wind had pages.

  “What do you plan to tell them about your writing?” Jennifer asked.

  A twinkle sparked in Leigh Ann’s eye as she savored the ice cream on her tongue. “Writing? Who’s going to be talking about writing?”

  She knew better than to go anywhere with Leigh Ann, even if she was one of her dearest friends and a member of her writers’ group. Leigh Ann was always on the prowl. She lived and breathed the romance she wrote, and yet...

  Jennifer studied Leigh Ann’s tiny, doll-like features. What was it that made love so elusive for her? Why did she keep it on such a superficial, primitive attraction level? Why did she have such commitment issues?

  And why was she so hot to go to this reunion? They’d known each other in high school, but not well. Had there been someone, maybe back then, when most insecurities are formed...

  “Besides, I’m thinking about writing a book about old flames,” Leigh Ann said. “You know, high school sweethearts who find each other years later. Something a lot of people can relate to.”

  Two years ago Jennifer had started writing a book of her own based on her high school experiences, but it was no love story. It had turned into something more along the lines of Scream or Prom Night. She’d put it away. Obviously, she had issues, and Leigh Ann should realize that some unresolved problems were better left that way, before they had a chance to rise up and bite her again.

  “All I’m asking is that you think about it,” Leigh Ann said.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m sure it’s too late to register.”

  “Not to worry. I already sent in your fee along with mine.”

  “You what?” Jennifer demanded.

  But Leigh Ann totally ignored her. Glancing at her watch, she let out a small squeal and pulled her purse from under her chair. “You could even bring Sam with you if you want. You’re allowed one guest, and who wouldn’t want to be seen with a good-looking investigative reporter from The Macon Telegraph? Say, if you can’t go, you think Sam might—”

  Jennifer shot her another dangerous look.

  “I was just kidding.” Leigh Ann grabbed her glass and gulped one final glug of water. “Gotta go. My boss will be tapping her foot waiting for me. Unlike some people, I have a day job. Remember, Saturday night, seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up a little before.”

  Jennifer opened her mouth to protest, but Leigh Ann was already out the door, leaving Jennifer staring after her.

  Leigh Ann could go if she wanted to, but Jennifer had no intentions of ever again setting foot across the threshold of Riverside High School.

  Chapter 2

  Jennifer stared at the note that had come in the morning’s mail, her hand trembling. Seeing Danny Buckner’s scrawled handwriting still made her heart skip a beat. Despite how she’d tried to minimize their relationship to Leigh Ann, she’d had a huge crush on Danny. They’d had nothing in common except a major teenage chemical attraction, but in many ways, he was her first, however brief, love.

  And now he was asking for her help.

  Yo, Jen. Read in the newspaper about you working for that private detective, Johnny Zeeman. Really cool. Glad to see you’re still in town. Thought you might be coming to the reunion Saturday night and maybe you could spare me a few minutes. Something’s come back up, something I thought was long over and done. Guess not. Hope to see you Saturday. Love you. Danny.

  What could have “come back up,” and why would Danny be contacting her, of all people? Did he think she had some kind of private eye expertise? If he did, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Her adventure with Johnny Zeeman had been a one-shot, involuntary involvement in a case that had tangled around her like a spiderweb.

  Jennifer sank onto the couch in her small apartment and stared into space. Muffy, her greyhound, snuggled about her feet, playing with her shoelaces, but she hardly noticed. She and Danny had officially dated, if she remembered correctly (and she did), for no more than a couple of weeks, although he’d been seriously interested for closer to six months. Once Sheena had figured out Danny was about to stray, she’d started a campaign to smear Jennifer and make her life miserable.

  But all that was beside the point. What could have happened involving Danny that would be coming back up now?

  Something even worse than being stranded at school in that old Chevrolet on prom night? She’d waited close to forty minutes before finally deciding Danny wasn’t coming back. Humiliated, she’d gone inside the building and called her father to come get her. Even now, just thinking about it made her shudder. At least her dad had the sensitivity not to ask what happened. He’d simply picked her up and driven her home. He hadn’t even said a word about the toilet paper in the trees.

  Danny the Worm had found her Monday morning, trapping her between the end locker and the science room door. He groveled and pleaded, even got down on his knee at one point, which gave her the opportunity to step over him and get the heck out of there. She’d never been able to forgive him. The hurt was too deep.

  Through all his expressions of remorse, Danny never told her what he’d done that night. Maybe if he had, things would have been different. And maybe not. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Not then and not now. Especially if he’d somehow wound up spending the rest of that night with Sheena.

  But maybe what Danny wanted to talk to her about had nothing to do with that night. She could at least hope.

  She stuffed the paper back into its envelope, sighed, absently untangled Muffy’s incisors from her shoelaces, and rubbed the dog behind the ears.

  She needed to get going, but she was having trouble even getting off the couch. She was late and Dee Dee would be calling any minute wondering what had happened to her. She had two large vegetable rings to arrange, tomatoes to stuff, and a shrimp tree to put together for a birthday party in Wimbish Woods, not to mention the broccoli-raisin-peanut salad that had to be prepared at the last minute to keep its flavor. It all had to be in Dee Dee’s van no later than five o’clock.

  She didn’t have time to think about Danny Buckner, she reasoned. Besides, she owed him absolutely nothing. She was involved with Sam now. Sam, who was smart, funny, endearing, honest, infuriating, and, in so many ways, really good for her. But Danny was special. She could count on three fingers the number of guys who had ever taken her breath away, and Danny had been the first.

  The reunion was only one night of her life. What could it hurt to talk to him?

  Chapter 3

  Going back to high school was like having Thanksgiving with family. Jennifer was painfully aware that if she wasn’t careful, she could lose all the progress she’d made in the past twelve years, progress she was holding onto as tightly as Leigh Ann would let her.

  The phone rang again. “What do you think?” Leigh Ann’s voice gasped. “Should I wear the forest-green knit, the black
chiffon, or the red satin?”

  “It’s a reunion, Leigh, not the prom. Go with the knit.”

  “But—”

  Jennifer growled, trying to negotiate a pair of honey-beige panty hose over one knee while balancing on one foot. Hugging the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she tried to keep Muffy, who seemed convinced she was Jennifer’s dresser, away from the delicate nylon mesh. “Why did you call me if you didn’t want my opinion?”

  “I do, only—”

  “Just wear whatever you want. Look, I’ve got to get dressed, too. See you later.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Later.” She hung up the phone, hoping she wasn’t too rude, but this was already Leigh Ann’s fourth call in the last twenty minutes. The first was to ask whether she should wear her hair up or down, the second to ask if blue or gold fingernail polish was too hip for people their age, and the third had to do with liquid versus pencil eyeliner. As if she would know the difference.

  She made a final tug of the panty hose over her hips and rued the fact that Leigh Ann—and Danny’s letter—had snookered her into going in the first place. Now, after that phone call, she had to wonder if her own royal-blue jersey was appropriate. Two minutes ago she’d been convinced it was the perfect choice.

  She wiggled into her slip, Muffy catching the hem in her teeth and pulling the silky fabric hard into place, just as the phone rang again.

  “What is it this time?” Jennifer demanded, grabbing up the phone and stretching as far as she could to shove Muffy out the bedroom door and close it behind her.

  “Did you read the newspaper today?”

  “Cut to the chase, Leigh Ann.”

  “Your horoscope.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Listen to this: ‘Take that invitation. Old acquaintances come back into your life in ways you never imagined possible.’ See? You were meant to go.”