Dying to Tell (34 page)

“Jesus, Mike, if you don’t want to work, I’ll be glad to let you off the hook. Permanently.”

“Sorry.” Mike raked a hand through his hair. “Viola—I mean Amelia—never showed. I told the bartender to call me if she did.”

“Good. Who was on the phone?”

“That damn reporter. She’s trying to get some dirt on you and Sadie.”

Jake scowled at him. Just when he’d begun to halfway trust Brenda... “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing.”

“Keep it that way.” Jake turned to business and explained about finding Giogardi.

“You think it wasn’t a suicide?” Mike asked.

“Hell, I don’t know. Too many dead people in my town.” Jake sighed. “Can you cover the office? I’m heading to Walt Nettleton’s funeral. Maybe Amelia will show up there.”

Mike agreed, and Jake checked the fax machine for the forensics reports he had asked the team to send over, but the files hadn’t arrived yet.

Restless, he grabbed a cup of coffee and drove to the funeral home. Sadie was already there, along with Ms. Lettie, who looked grief-stricken in her plain gray dress.

Sadie looked pale as well, her eyes anguished as she stood beside the closed casket. The funeral director leaned over and said something to her; then Sadie and Ms. Lettie claimed their seats in the front pew of the small chapel.

Knowing Walt had been murdered by his own granddaughter made the service even more awkward. Several people from town filed in and settled in the seats, and Jake noticed Mazie, the head nurse from the sanitarium, in the back.

A lady he recognized as Betty Dodger sang, and then a man from the church gave the eulogy.

“Walt was a good man, an honorable man,” Daryl Farmer said. “He had his share of troubles over the years. He lost his daughter too soon, then mental illness struck his family, and he lost his precious wife. But he believed in the good Lord and never gave up. Walt told me once that he loved his granddaughters and would protect them with his life.”

That statement jump-started more questions in Jake’s head. What if someone had threatened Amelia, and Walt had been trying to protect her, and he’d gotten shot in the process? What if Amelia hadn’t pulled the trigger?

Dammit, Jake, you found her with the gun in her hand and blood all over her. No one else was there.

He heard a sniffle, and realized that Sadie was crying quietly. The fact that she was alone while she was grieving made his chest tighten. He wanted to slip into the seat beside her and hold her.

But of course he couldn’t do that. Not here, in front of half the town.

Not and keep his sanity in check. Holding her earlier had only resurrected the lust and love he’d once had for her.

And made him yearn for the life with her that he had lost.

The preacher ended with a prayer; then the pallbearers lifted Walt’s casket to carry it to the cemetery, while Sadie and the other mourners followed. He noticed Mrs. Swoony and her son Joe, along with several women from the church who’d raised money for the police department, Dr. Tynsdale, and a few of the older men who sang in the church choir and had played checkers with Walt on Saturdays at the country store on Route 9.

Jake followed them out to the graveside and stood at the edge, his gaze scanning the graveyard for Amelia.

If she showed, he’d have to take her in.

Sadie felt empty inside as they lowered her grandfather’s casket into the ground. Amelia should be here with her, two sisters grieving together over their grandfather’s loss.

Instead Amelia was out there somewhere, hiding, scared.

Alone.

Fortunately the rain had dwindled, but the darkening sky promised another storm, casting inky shadows across the faded
tombstone markers. Sadie took a rose from one of the arrangements and placed it on her parents’ graves, beside her grandfather’s.

Dr. Tynsdale approached and shook her hand, then moved on, allowing the line of guests to offer their condolences.

Joe Swoony’s mother gave her a conciliatory hug. “Your granddaddy was a good man, God rest his soul.” Then she took Joe’s hand and led him away.

Sadie remembered the file she’d found and the numbers, and her lungs squeezed for air. If Amelia had been Subject #3, that meant there were more. Had Joe been one of the subjects? And Grace?

Betty Dodger patted her hand. “We’ll miss Walt, hon, but remember, the people at the church are here for you.”

Sadie nodded, numb, as she shook hand after hand. Most of the people who’d come were her grandfather’s friends from church. Odd, but she really had no friends from when she’d lived here before, no one she’d been close to.

Except for Jake.

Mazie walked up and squeezed her hands. “I’m so sorry about Walt. I got to know him from his visits with your sister.” She leaned closer. “I sure hope you find her, and that she’s okay.”

“So do I.” Sadie noticed Brenda approaching. Luckily, she didn’t have her camera this time.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Brenda said.

Sadie frowned. She still wasn’t sure about Brenda, but she nodded.

The small crowd dispersed as they began to cover the casket with dirt, and Sadie broke out in a cold sweat as the memory of burying Jake’s father flashed in her mind.

The ping of the shovel...the dirt...the dead man’s eyes staring up at her.

Suddenly the wind shifted, and she sensed someone watching her. She angled her head and studied the woods.

Was Amelia out there, hiding in the bushes?

Amelia hid behind the trees and watched as they lowered her grandfather into the ground. “Papaw, no—you can’t be dead. What will I do without you?”

You have us
, Skid barked.
You don’t need him anymore
.

The chimes began to ring.
Ting. Ting. Ting
.

Then the voices came, the cries, the screams...just as they had years ago. She covered her ears, begging them to stop.

Just rest, Amelia
, Skid murmured.
I’ll take care of you
.

But Amelia didn’t want to go away. Sadie was here. She wanted to talk to Sadie, to share her secrets with her.

She wanted to be strong, not fade and die, the way Skid wanted her to.

Skid and Viola—sometimes she thought they were plotting to get rid of her for good.

Then no one would ever know the truth. And she would be dead.

“I have to tell,” she said, struggling to battle her way through the haze of voices clouding her mind.

How can you tell when you don’t even know what happened?
Skid asked.

Amelia bit her tongue to keep from lashing out. Skid was right. The pieces of the night Blackwood died were so disjointed that she couldn’t make them fit.

The world grew fuzzy. Then she was catapulted back in time. Blackwood was in the room with her. Doing things...threatening her...hurting her...

She cried out for help, but no one came.

No...Bessie had come. Bessie had cried and cried. Then Skid was there...Skid, who took care of her.

Skid had to make him stop. Kill Blackwood. End her pain.

She’d reached for the gun—no, it wasn’t she. It was Skid. Skid, yelling at Blackwood, accusing him of torturing Amelia...then the world went black.

She had disappeared into that tunnel...

Then Sadie was outside with her in the rain, crying, asking questions. Questions Amelia couldn’t answer.

Sadie and Papaw, both screaming at once.

And Blackwood...Blackwood was dead.

But that had been years ago.

What about Papaw? How had he ended up in the grave?

She closed her eyes, willing back the memories she’d tried so hard to forget. She’d stopped taking the drugs because they made her sleep all the time. They dulled her senses, clouded her mind. She couldn’t even paint; they drowned the Amelia that wanted to live.

A fleeting image suddenly appeared behind her eyes.

Papaw had come to her that night, they’d argued...he’d told her something. What?

He wanted to tell everything
, Skid said.

Amelia turned cold inside. Skid was the one who insisted they keep quiet. Skid had shot Blackwood to protect her.

Fear assaulted her. Papaw had wanted to come clean, said he had to before he met his Maker. That he had to purge his sins to get in the pearly gates.

Had Skid killed him to keep him quiet?

S
adie tossed a rose on her grandfather’s grave, forcing herself to picture the way he looked when he was alive. “I’ll find Amelia and take care of her, Papaw,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Chad Marshall slid a hand over her back. “Do you know where she is?”

Sadie tensed. Chad was supposed to be on her sister’s side, but for some reason she sensed he wanted her locked back up. “No, I wish I did.”

“I’d be lying if I said that assaulting that orderly and running away doesn’t look bad. It makes her look—”

“I know, guilty,” Sadie said. “But she’s sick and scared, Chad.”

“Just let me know if you hear from her,” Chad said. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

Sadie mentally chastised herself for her earlier thoughts. Being here was making her paranoid, distrustful. “Thank you, Chad. I appreciate that.”

“Sure. Do you want me to hang around and keep you company for a while?”

Sadie noticed Jake watching and shook her head. “Thanks, I appreciate the gesture, but I’d really like to be alone.” And she
needed to talk to Jake about that file she’d found in her grandfather’s things.

Chad gave her a hug. “Okay, but call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Chad stopped to talk to Ms. Lettie. Hmm, she didn’t realize they knew each other. Then again, Chad could have visited Amelia in the hospital when Ms. Lettie was there. And it was a small town. Their paths could easily have crossed before.

Dr. Tynsdale patted her shoulder next. “This is a sad day,” he said. “Walt was a good man.”

“Yes, he was,” Sadie said. “I really miss him.”

“He missed you, too, dear,” Dr. Tynsdale said. “And so did Amelia.”

Guilt suffused her again. Had she hurt her grandfather by staying away? “I should have come back more often. Maybe if I had, I would have known something was wrong, and I could have prevented this from happening.”

“Or you might have gotten hurt yourself.” He adjusted his glasses. “Your grandfather wanted to protect you.”

Sadie frowned, sensing a deeper meaning behind his statement. “Do you think Amelia is okay?”

“She’s off her medication and frightened. But that makes me think she’ll show up at the house.” He touched her hand. “Besides, you’re there, and it’s the safest place she knows.”

“Sadie?” Jake approached her, his big body robbing her of breath again.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” he said in a gruff voice. “I...wish I could do more.”

She wished he could, too. That he could hold her and make all the pain go away. That she could turn back time and change all that had happened to tear them apart.

“You know I was tracking down the patients Dr. Sanderson worked with at the free clinic.”

She nodded.

He explained about Bertrice Folsom’s suicide. “Last night the second name on my list, a man named Emanuel Giogardi, turned up dead.”