After breakfast and a quick walk with the dogs, we piled in the Jeep to go pick up Diana. She’d called to ask for a ride to the festival. Dylan’s junker had broken down again and he needed to borrow her VW.
Both cars were in the driveway when we pulled up, so I parked in the street.
Diana lived in a small chalet-looking house that was partly obscured by vines and trees. It was the same house she’d lived in since moving to Crystal Haven as a kindergartner. Her mother had planted herbs, flowers, and shrubs over the years. Diana loved plants and couldn’t bring herself to prune or cut down anything. It showed in the spring when the vegetation launched its campaign to take over the yard. Alex had been known to sneak over to her house when she was at work and “clean up.” Now, in the fall, the foliage was subdued, the beautiful colors fading. Still, the deep shadows made me feel that they were all just biding their time until their world domination.
Seth and I climbed the stone steps to the porch and I raised my hand to knock when I heard Dylan’s voice on the other side of the door.
“Why can’t you just trust me on this?” His voice was hard, angry.
I couldn’t hear a reply.
“He wasn’t as great as you thought. Seeing the good in people is one thing, being blind to true evil is another.”
Seth’s eyes had become round, he looked back longingly at the Jeep. Before I could offer any reassurance, the door flew open and Dylan stood there, his head turned away to shout, “Whatever!” He spun back around and I watched as his face reassembled itself from anger to confusion to an uncomfortable smile. He was my height with straight black hair that he wore spiked all over his head. He had a gold hoop in one eyebrow, which drew attention to his gold-brown eyes. Diana stood just behind him in the hallway, her orange curls and bright green eyes denying the sibling relationship. The only thing they shared was their mother’s upturned nose and creative sensitivity. Diana’s mouth formed a circle of surprise.
“Hi, Clyde.” Dylan hooked his thumb over his shoulder and shrugged. “Just some sibling bickering.”
It sounded a bit more heated than their usual squabbles but I smiled in return.
Dylan was looking at Seth, obviously trying to place him.
“This is my nephew, Seth,” I said. “You haven’t seen him for a while.”
“Seth?” Dylan held his hand out at waist height. The last time they’d met, Seth had been wearing Harry Potter robes and clutching a wand.
Seth raised his hand in greeting.
“Sorry, dude. Don’t you hate it when people remember you as only a little kid?” Dylan put his fist out and Seth bumped it with his own. The male greeting ritual complete, I gestured at the door.
“Oh, yeah. Come in.” He held the door wide, glanced at Diana, and said, “Later.”
Dylan bounded down the steps and hopped into the VW. It sprayed gravel as he pulled out.
Diana gave a wobbly smile. “Seth, I didn’t expect you. . . .”
“Seth really wanted to be here for the last day of the festival,” I said.
Seth nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it. I better go check on the guys.” He gestured toward the car and hastily retreated. He was remarkably good at sensing the mood in a room and avoiding uncomfortable situations.
After he shut the door, I turned to Diana, who already had her hand up.
“I know what you’re going to say.”
I doubted that. “Okay, what?”
“You’re going to say Dylan doesn’t appreciate me and he doesn’t respect me and I shouldn’t let him take advantage.”
I shook my head. We had argued enough about her brother over the years and I had thought all that more than once. “No, I’ve already said all those things.” I let out a breath and met her gaze. “I was going to ask who Dylan thinks is evil.”
Diana twirled one of her fingers through a ginger curl and bit her lower lip.
“It’s Rafe.” She paused and took a deep breath. “He’s had it in for Rafe since my parents died. It’s the reason he left town in such a hurry after their funeral.”
That explained some things, like why Dylan hadn’t stuck by his sister, and why she had tolerated it. I gestured toward the living room. A brother hating a murder victim felt like a sit-down conversation.
“You never told me that. I knew they didn’t always get along but I thought that was because Rafe tried to step in as a substitute father. I figured Dylan resented it and just wanted to get away.” I sat next to her on the couch.
“I think he did feel that way. And initially, that’s what I thought as well. A few years ago, Dylan came here for a long weekend. You were already in Ann Arbor by then.” She stopped and looked down at her lap before continuing. “He found Rafe here having dinner and they fought. I don’t even know what it was about, to be honest, but they sure did. Dylan said something about knowing what Rafe had done. Rafe just laughed. That made Dylan even angrier.” She stared into space, her brow wrinkled. “Anyway, Rafe left in a hurry and Dylan wouldn’t tell me what he was talking about—until last night.”
“What?” I put my hand on hers.