and walked to the center of the balcony, his back to Lori’s body. “We need to find a phone that works and call the police.”
“On it.” Gunner grabbed Kumiko’s hand and half dragged her down the stairs.
“There’s one in the study,” Vivian called after them. She paused a moment, then ran lightly into her room and emerged pulling on an oversized sweater over her pajamas. “Better go with them,” she said to no one in particular. “Just in case.”
T.J. and Meg stood alone on the second-floor landing. Everyone else seemed to have a purpose—Ben was taking care of Minnie, Nathan was trying to calm Kenny down, and Kumiko, Gunner, and Vivian were calling the police. Meg felt like she should be doing something. Helping. Not just standing there like an idiot yearning for the strong arms of T. J. Fletcher to wrap themselves around her again.
Lori’s suicide note fluttered off the table where Kumiko had left it, drifting to the ground like it was light and airy, not a thing of sadness and pain. Meg had a sudden urge to see it and snatched it off the floor. The words of Lori’s suicide note were written on the back side of a page of music in all caps, but the handwriting didn’t look shaky or erratic. It was as if Lori had found calmness in her decision to take her own life. Meg flipped it over and looked at the musical notation. It was a song with piano accompaniment and lyrics.
“Weird,” she said.
“What?” T.J. peered over her shoulder at the sheet of music.
She read the lyrics out loud. “‘Sure on this shining night, I weep for wonder.’”
“Pretty.”
“‘Sure on this shining night,’” Meg repeated. Those lyrics rang a bell. “Wasn’t this the song playing on the video last night?”
T.J. cocked his head and stared at her. “You’re right. How did you catch that?”
“I … I don’t know.” Because I watch everyone all the time? Because I’m more comfortable observing than doing? Yeah, that’s not creepy.
“Writer.” T.J. smiled, exposing his deep-set dimples.
“No wonder she freaked out.” Meg remembered Lori’s face after the video ended. She looked scared, panicked almost. And the way she accused someone of making that video on purpose. It must have been a song she was rehearsing. Her reaction made perfect sense.
Meg stared at the sheet music. There was something odd about it, the music Lori chose for her suicide note. It didn’t sound like a sad song, a song of depression or longing or anything like that. Totally the opposite. “Weep for wonder” was more like crying from happiness and joy. Why would she choose that? Meg shook her head. It could have just been coincidence, the only paper in arm’s reach. Still, according to the endless lineup of crime-scene investigator dramas that filled up her TiVo, suicide notes were usually deliberate. So why would Lori choose that song? How could that lead to her body hanging in a stairwell …?
Meg squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the flurry of rods and cones would bleach the image of Lori’s face from her memory. No such luck.
“We need to take her down,” she said.
“I was thinking the same thing.” T.J. climbed halfway up the tower stairs and peered at the beams that supported the roof. “I’ll get the guys. I think we can lower her.”
“Good.”
T.J. smiled grimly. “I’m sorry you were the one to find her, Meg.”
Meg laughed, short and terse. “Better me than Minnie.”
“Are you always this protective of her?”
Meg bit her lip. She usually hid her enabling-codependent relationship with Minnie better than she had in the last twenty-four hours, and she was embarrassed that T.J. had witnessed as much of it as he did. “I have to be.”
T.J. descended the stairs to her. “Why? Why is that your responsibility? Do you really think she’d do the same for you?”
Meg couldn’t look him in the eye. He’d hit a little too close to home. “I—”
“Oh my God. Oh my God! ” It was Vivian from
“On it.” Gunner grabbed Kumiko’s hand and half dragged her down the stairs.
“There’s one in the study,” Vivian called after them. She paused a moment, then ran lightly into her room and emerged pulling on an oversized sweater over her pajamas. “Better go with them,” she said to no one in particular. “Just in case.”
T.J. and Meg stood alone on the second-floor landing. Everyone else seemed to have a purpose—Ben was taking care of Minnie, Nathan was trying to calm Kenny down, and Kumiko, Gunner, and Vivian were calling the police. Meg felt like she should be doing something. Helping. Not just standing there like an idiot yearning for the strong arms of T. J. Fletcher to wrap themselves around her again.
Lori’s suicide note fluttered off the table where Kumiko had left it, drifting to the ground like it was light and airy, not a thing of sadness and pain. Meg had a sudden urge to see it and snatched it off the floor. The words of Lori’s suicide note were written on the back side of a page of music in all caps, but the handwriting didn’t look shaky or erratic. It was as if Lori had found calmness in her decision to take her own life. Meg flipped it over and looked at the musical notation. It was a song with piano accompaniment and lyrics.
“Weird,” she said.
“What?” T.J. peered over her shoulder at the sheet of music.
She read the lyrics out loud. “‘Sure on this shining night, I weep for wonder.’”
“Pretty.”
“‘Sure on this shining night,’” Meg repeated. Those lyrics rang a bell. “Wasn’t this the song playing on the video last night?”
T.J. cocked his head and stared at her. “You’re right. How did you catch that?”
“I … I don’t know.” Because I watch everyone all the time? Because I’m more comfortable observing than doing? Yeah, that’s not creepy.
“Writer.” T.J. smiled, exposing his deep-set dimples.
“No wonder she freaked out.” Meg remembered Lori’s face after the video ended. She looked scared, panicked almost. And the way she accused someone of making that video on purpose. It must have been a song she was rehearsing. Her reaction made perfect sense.
Meg stared at the sheet music. There was something odd about it, the music Lori chose for her suicide note. It didn’t sound like a sad song, a song of depression or longing or anything like that. Totally the opposite. “Weep for wonder” was more like crying from happiness and joy. Why would she choose that? Meg shook her head. It could have just been coincidence, the only paper in arm’s reach. Still, according to the endless lineup of crime-scene investigator dramas that filled up her TiVo, suicide notes were usually deliberate. So why would Lori choose that song? How could that lead to her body hanging in a stairwell …?
Meg squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the flurry of rods and cones would bleach the image of Lori’s face from her memory. No such luck.
“We need to take her down,” she said.
“I was thinking the same thing.” T.J. climbed halfway up the tower stairs and peered at the beams that supported the roof. “I’ll get the guys. I think we can lower her.”
“Good.”
T.J. smiled grimly. “I’m sorry you were the one to find her, Meg.”
Meg laughed, short and terse. “Better me than Minnie.”
“Are you always this protective of her?”
Meg bit her lip. She usually hid her enabling-codependent relationship with Minnie better than she had in the last twenty-four hours, and she was embarrassed that T.J. had witnessed as much of it as he did. “I have to be.”
T.J. descended the stairs to her. “Why? Why is that your responsibility? Do you really think she’d do the same for you?”
Meg couldn’t look him in the eye. He’d hit a little too close to home. “I—”
“Oh my God. Oh my God! ” It was Vivian from
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