Dying to Tell (13 page)

“That’s true,” Jake said. “But I would like to understand her motive. I’d think you would, too.”

Sadie hugged the box to her. “I do, and I plan to talk to her and find out.”

“Then let me see what’s in that box. It might be love letters from some boyfriend who helped her kill your grandfather.”

Sadie shook her head. “I doubt that, Jake. It’s probably some therapeutic assignment the doctors gave her.”

“We can’t find out what was going on in her mind unless we explore every angle—”

“If there’s anything in the box that explains what drove my sister to shoot Papaw, I will tell you. All right?”

Jake knew he shouldn’t relent. That he could get a warrant and confiscate the box.

But Sadie had lost her grandfather, and her sister was locked up for murder. Why would she hide anything from him?

It wasn’t like she could prove Amelia innocent...

Still, it looked as if someone had broken into her house. “I could stay tonight,” he offered.

Sadie took a step back. “I...don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jake suddenly realized Sadie thought he was suggesting more. Obviously she didn’t want to rekindle a relationship with him. “Nothing personal, Sadie,” he said, his voice tight. “Just in case the intruder returns.”

“No,” Sadie said quickly. “I’ve been on my own for a long time, Jake. I’ll be fine.”

But she didn’t look fine. She looked nervous and wary. And if he didn’t know better, there were secrets in her eyes.

Guilt crowded Sadie’s throat for playing off Jake’s sympathy, when she had lied to him for years.

But what if Amelia had stowed something in the box about the night Jake’s father died?

She didn’t understand what exactly had happened between Blackwood and her sister, only what Skid had told her—that Blackwood had hurt her—but he’d never explained what he’d done. Bessie claimed he’d hurt her, too, but she’d resorted to crying, and they couldn’t get anything more from her.

And Amelia couldn’t remember.

She sighed. She might never know the truth about why Amelia had killed Papaw either. Unless she or Dr. Tynsdale could persuade her or one of the alters to open up.

Still, she needed to sort through this box alone. To spend some time with Amelia and try to understand her.

To keep their secret, because telling Jake now would only hurt him.

If only she knew why his father had come to their house that night.

Arthur Blackwood had served as the hospital administrator at the sanitarium. He had access to the patients, could come and go at will without question. But he wasn’t a doctor or a counselor. Still, he’d known Amelia from the sanitarium.

And he’d known that Sadie was dating Jake.

Every time she was around him, he’d made her feel uneasy. He scrutinized her as if he were trying to pick her apart.

Dissected her to see if she were demented or sick like her sister.

He hadn’t approved of Jake dating her. She’d heard him mutter warnings to Jake when he thought she’d left the room. Of course, half the town had been skeptical of her because she was Amelia’s twin sister.

Jake’s phone buzzed, startling her, and he checked the number. “Let me get this. It’s the medical examiner.”

Sadie nodded and carried the wooden box to the living area while Jake stepped out onto the porch. She traced a finger over the rose, remembering the day her grandmother had given the boxes to them. They were having a mother-daughter day at school. She had wanted her mother with her so badly that day.

Then Gran had dressed in her Sunday best. She had bought her and Amelia pretty dresses and attended the luncheon with them.

Later, when they got home, she’d given them the keepsake boxes, each with a photograph of their parents inside.

Sadie opened the box, looked at the picture, traced her finger over it. Would her sister have been normal had it not been for the accident that had taken her parents’ lives?

A second later, Jake stepped back inside, and she snapped the box shut.

Jake checked his watch. “I’m going to meet the ME,” he said.

Sadie noticed the early-morning sunshine flickering through the sheers. “It’s about Papaw’s body?”

Jake shook his head. “No—Grace Granger. But he did say he plans to release your grandfather to the funeral home this morning, if you want to start making arrangements.”

Sadie’s mind raced with the tasks ahead. How was she going to make the arrangements all by herself?

Jake laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Sadie nodded. Of course she was. She had to be.

“I’m fine—thanks for coming out. I’ll call the funeral home in a little while.”

“If you need help with the arrangements, with...anything, call me.”

Tears burned the backs of her eyelids, but she blinked them back. How could she keep relying on Jake when she’d kept such a horrible secret from him?

He deserved to know the truth...to have buried his father. To have said good-bye.

But the truth—the fact that she’d lied to him—would only hurt him. And it wouldn’t bring his father back.

So she watched him leave, and waited until he’d driven away before she opened the box again.

She examined two of the envelopes and recognized her name on the outside. Curious, she quickly rifled through the stack. They were all written on stationery from the mental hospital.

And all addressed to her.

But she’d never seen them.

Nerves tingled along her spine as she removed one of the envelopes and began to read.

Dear Sadie,

Please help me. Get me out of here. You don’t know what they do to us at night. It hurts...

Tears blurred Sadie’s eyes as the writing changed. At first it had been Amelia’s, then a childlike scrawl. Then Skid’s angry slanted writing. Then Amelia’s again.

She snatched up another letter and skimmed it. This one from Skid, full of anger, hate, vows of revenge. A plan to help Amelia escape.

Sadie choked back a cry.

Amelia had been pleading for help.

She swiped at the tears streaming down her face and read another letter and another. All desperate cries.

Some described being punished. Tortured. Kept in a dark room for days. In a closet. A box. Being deprived of food and water. Of light.

Dear God. Were these ramblings from her twisted mind, or had something happened to Amelia in the sanitarium?

Dammit, Sadie had found that box.

He had looked for it before, and he’d almost had his hands on it when Sadie spotted him. What if she figured out what was going on?

He gripped the knife handle and studied the guesthouse. Maybe he should finish her off tonight.

No...that would draw suspicion.

And he didn’t need anyone, especially the law, sniffing around.

Especially since his assistant had fucked it up with Grace. And Jake Blackwood was asking questions.

Hell, he’d keep an eye on Sadie like he always had.

And if she got out of hand, or if Amelia spilled her secrets, he’d take care of both of them.

J
ake stewed over leaving Sadie alone as he drove toward the medical examiner’s office, but he’d checked the guesthouse, and whoever had been inside was gone. Of course, the intruder might come back, but most likely not during the day.

Not now that Sadie was there, and whoever it was knew the house wasn’t deserted.

Several instances of teens breaking and entering to steal computers and other small electronics had been reported in town, and then there were the curiosity seekers who might have heard about the murder and come snooping to see if anything valuable had been left behind. Others might just be interested in seeing the scene of the murder.

But what if it was something else? What if Sadie was in danger?

Who would want to hurt her, though?

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know who’d killed her grandfather. It had been Amelia—he’d caught her red-handed.

A truck pulled in front of him, nearly cutting him off, and he considered flipping on his siren, but honked his horn instead. He didn’t have time to chase down the jerk. A minute later, the
truck turned down a side road, and he drove on. He had to get to the morgue.

A couple of early-morning joggers made their way along the sidewalk as he wove through town, and the diner had already opened, with truckers and workers staggering in for breakfast and coffee. Jake phoned his deputy to tell him to open up.

“I’m going to the morgue about the autopsy on Grace Granger,” he told Waterstone. “Call my cell if anything comes up.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Mike said. “I’ll do rounds in the town before I go to the office.”

Jake disconnected, then drove through the doughnut shop and ordered a cup of coffee to go. Candy, the twenty-three-year old bundle of flirtatious energy, threw in his usual glazed doughnut and waved to him as he rushed on.

She’d acted interested in him before, but she didn’t stir his blood. Not like Sadie Nettleton did.

He sipped his coffee. He’d thought ten years would have diminished his lust for her, but it hadn’t. One look at her, and he was wound up so tight his body was in knots.

Irritated at himself, he glanced at the clock, mentally taking a reality check. Ayla would be getting up for kindergarten soon, munching on her Cheerios and arguing with Gigi about whether to wear her hair in pigtails or a braid for the day.

He hated that he was missing it. Hell, he’d learned to do a pretty damn good braid himself over the last few months.

Maybe if he got the results from the ME and everything looked good, he could make it home and give her a kiss before she caught the school bus. A little sugar from his darlin’ would remind him that his future was about being a father.

Not looking for some woman to complicate their lives.

Forcing his mind back to work, he wolfed down his doughnut as he veered onto the street leading to the main hospital. The morgue was housed in the basement, so he parked, took a sip of his coffee, then carried it with him across the parking lot.

As customary, he checked in at the desk when he entered, then rode the elevator to the basement.

Dead bodies were just bodies, he told himself. Except that Sadie’s grandfather, a man he’d known most of his life, lay in one of the drawers, his life drained away. Although Sadie tried to act tough, she was grieving.

Her quiet display of courage and strength was one reason he’d fallen for her so long ago. Her home life was hell, but she put on a brave face and stood up to the taunts the kids threw at her, even defending her sister to the point of being pushed around. He had stepped in a time or two himself to shut them up.

The metal door screeched as he opened it, the dim light casting shadows on the gray walls. No surprise the morgue was housed in the oldest section of the hospital, tucked away as if the people were already forgotten.

Dr. Barry Bullock, a rail-thin thirtysomething guy with a receding hairline and an obsession with bugs, odd biological evidence, and particulates, shoved his protective mask up and waved him into the exam room.

The stench of blood, body waste, formaldehyde, and other chemicals permeated the room, forcing Jake to take a deep breath and blow air out to expel the stench.