Hex on the Beach by Kelley Armstrong
Chapter Twelve
Imanage to sneak out of the auditorium by way of the backstage. I’m slipping through when there’s a soft thump, followed by an oath. I break into a jog and find Kennedy standing in the entranceway of a dressing room, the door hidden behind a curtain. Inside, Aiden blocks someone trying to leave.
It’s Mitch Keeling—Kennedy’s IT guy. Also the person who’d wanted to stop tonight’s tour.
“What’s going on?” I whisper.
Kennedy starts to answer in a normal voice, and I wave her to silence and then bustle her inside and shut the door behind us.
“There was another fake ghost,” I say. “The police are taking care of it.” I leave off the part about the thefts. If Mitch is involved, I don’t want him knowing his partners-in-crime have been apprehended. “Now, what’s going on?”
“I spotted Mitch sneaking in,” Kennedy says. “That’s why we backed out of the tour. To see what he was up to. We caught him climbing into the rafters. Then we heard that fake ghost—in the rafters. Mitch ran down and tried hiding in here.”
“It’s not what you think,” Mitch says.
“What do we think?” Kennedy asks.
“That I had something to do with the hauntings. I didn’t. Last night’s was obviously fake, and I wanted to prove it. I was hiding down here when I caught a glimpse of a young woman in a plaid dress heading up the ladder to the rafters. I took photos.”
He pulls out his phone and shows us. “What I hoped to prove was who was behind it. I’m sure it’s the tour guide.”
“And your concern with that?” Aiden says.
“You’ve been awfully concerned with all of it,” Kennedy muses. “Your family wasn’t even here when it happened. I remember when you moved to Unstable and met Jackie. So why all the fuss about protecting the victim of a fifty-year-old local crime?”
“I might not be from Unstable originally, but I’ve made it my hometown. I didn’t like this young woman taking advantage of our legends and our reputation. How will it affect our ghost tours if one is proven to be fake? How will it affect our entire town ethos? Unstable is built on the belief in the paranormal. One debunking, and the entire economy could collapse.”
“Yeah, not quite,” Kennedy says. “We’ve dealt with skeptics and debunkers for years, and Ms. Dowling is an outsider. No one would blame us.” She steps closer to him. “I think your concern is more personal. You don’t want the mystery solved because it would affect you.”
“Affect me?” he sputters. “I wasn’t even born yet. I couldn’t have had anything to do with Lisa Lake’s disappearance.”
“Oh, I don’t mean you directly. I mean someone in your family. Someone connected with the disappearance. Someone who knows exactly what happened.”
Mitch blusters, but color rises in his face.
“A parent, maybe?” Kennedy says.
“If you’re suggesting my father had anything to do with Lisa Lake’s disappearance—”
“But he did, didn’t he?” She takes out her phone and flips to a photo. “I found this online. A YouTube true-crime show covered Lisa’s disappearance a few years back. They had a photo of her enhanced to show what she’d look like today.”
She shows a photo of an elderly woman and continues, “I dug through my old picture files. This one’s from five years ago. The annual Labor Day picnic. I was taking photos for Jonathan—the library wanted them for the archives.” She lifts her phone, showing an elderly woman beside Mitch and his wife, his arms over both their shoulders.
Kennedy zooms in on the elderly woman and flips back to the age-enhanced shot of Lisa Lake. “It’s not perfect, but it’s a damn good likeness.” She looks at him. “That’s Lisa Lake. Your mother.”
He opens his mouth to protest. A long pause. Then he deflates with a sigh. “Yes.”
“I also tracked down your birthday,” she says. “You were born six months after Lisa disappeared. Which is why I said her disappearance is kind of your dad’s fault. She was pregnant with you, and so she staged her disappearance.”
“Nice sleuthing,” he says with a wry half-smile. “Yes, Mom was pregnant. She’d met a boy at bible camp. He asked if she was on the pill, and she had no idea what that meant. She didn’t know what sex was or how babies were made either. That’s what happens when your parents refuse you even the most basic sex ed. Mom really liked the boy—and she liked what they were doing—so she lied and said she was on the pill.”
“And got pregnant.”
He nods. “She was terrified of what her parents would do. Even before that, though, she wanted out. The pregnancy gave her an excuse to escape. My father helped her do that. They staged her disappearance, and his family took her in. My father’s parents helped her to start over under a new name.”
“She married your dad and took his name,” I say. “They lived happily ever after.”
He quirks a smile. “Not exactly. They became lifelong friends, but it wasn’t the marrying kind of love. She actually married one of his college buddies, years later. I had a great biological father and a great stepdad. Also an amazing mother.” He looks at us. “Whose legacy I want to protect.”
“Legacy?” Aiden says.
“Mom passed away two years ago. She was so damned proud of her mystery.” He chuckles. “She loved coming to Unstable and hearing people talk about it. She’d even ask about it, just for fun. She adored being the local unsolved mystery. There was no harm in it. No crime she was covering up. It made her happy, and yes, it’s her legacy, as odd as that might sound.”
“You’re the one who removed the archives, aren’t you,” I say.
He sighs. “Yes. I’ll return them. It was shortly after her death. I was still grieving, and I got a little overprotective.”
“Which is why you tried to stop the tours?” Kennedy says.
“I didn’t like the way Ms. Dowling was operating. Jackie’s aunt reached out, and she ignored her. It was a cash grab in my mother’s memory, and if I could stop her—legitimately—I wanted to. I wasn’t going to do anything underhanded.”
Mitch looks at us. “So I’ve confirmed your theory. Is there any way I can ask you to keep it between us? I honestly don’t see how solving the mystery helps anyone.”
“It doesn’t,” Kennedy says. “Your family secret is yours.”
Aiden clears his throat. “On one condition.”
We look at him.
He nods toward Kennedy. “You want to know how Lisa did it. You have a theory. Perhaps Mr. Keeling can confirm it.”
“We have a theory,” she says. “We think it was a switcheroo and that your aunt was in on it.”
His lips twitch. “Go on.”
“Your mom was only a year older than her sister. They looked similar enough to fool people who didn’t know them. Backstage, they slipped behind the curtain and switched dresses. Your mom’s dress was simple and loose-fitting. I presume your aunt’s was, too. It’d take ten seconds to trade dresses. Maybe a quick hairstyle change to match—your aunt taking out a ponytail and your mom putting one in. Then your mom—pretending to be her sister—runs out complaining of stomach problems. All your parents see is her back. She flees into the bathroom, where she’s probably stashed clothing. Your aunt proceeds into the theater with the group. Lights go out—as anyone familiar with the tour would expect—and she darts into the seating, leaving behind the ashes. Maybe she has a second dress there, similar to her original one. Change into that and, in the commotion, pretends to return as herself. Her parents return to the auditorium, and Lisa slips from the bathroom and out the main doors. She meets your dad outside, and they ride into the sunset together.”
Kennedy looks at Mitch. “Close?”
“Close enough. Yes, my aunt helped. Most of it was her idea. She hoped if they came to Unstable’s anniversary celebration, it’d be so busy that Mom could sneak away. But their parents weren’t letting them out of their sight. So my aunt heard about the tour—and the lights going out—and devised plan B. Afterward, she stayed in touch with Mom, and they reunited the day she turned eighteen. So I had my aunt in my life, too. Still do. She lives in Seattle, gets over now and then.”
“I’d love to meet her next time she visits,” Kennedy says.
“She’d like that, too. A chance to share her grand adventure. Now, may I make my escape before anyone finds me here?”
“We’ll help with that,” I say, and I head out to make sure the path is clear.