Tell No Lies (18 page)

Wide-eyed, Augusta stared at him. Naked and unashamed, he rested his hand once again on his erection, stroking it seductively, waiting for her answer. His hair fell back behind his shoulders, and the earring in his ear gleamed wickedly. A day’s worth of golden whiskers glittered on his face. He was easily the most beautiful man she had ever known.

Augusta couldn’t have walked away from this moment if her life had depended upon it.

With Ian she felt no inhibition, or shyness. She felt only a primal desire to claim him for her own. She threw her head back in blatant invitation, smiling slightly as she demanded, “Make love to me, Ian.”

 

It took every ounce of willpower Augusta had to get up and go home.

Ian begged her to stay, but she knew she couldn’t—not with the realization that Caroline was likely to be home alone. Until the wedding, Caroline and Jack had agreed it was entirely too weird to have him stay at the house, and she rarely spent the night with him at his beach house—never without telling her and Savannah. Augusta couldn’t take Ian home either—not until she had a long talk with her sisters.

“Stay,” he begged, and despite her halfhearted protests, he coaxed her back into bed. They made love once more before she managed to get up and get her blouse and skirt back on.

“You’re such a bad boy for an ex-priest!” Augusta told him, loving that it was true. There was a fine line between sexy and dirty. For her, crossing it wasn’t an option, but pushing the boundary was a turn-on. She and Ian had the same sensibilities, she realized. She trusted him implicitly.

He threw his hands up into the air and grinned unrepentantly. “I wasn’t always a priest,” he reminded with a wink. “In fact, if you come back to bed I’ll show you how
unpriestly
I can be.” Snagging her hand, he dragged her down atop him, but Augusta resisted, kissing him firmly upon the lips and tearing herself away.

“I really, really have to go,” she insisted.

“Then I’ll see you home,” he said, and his tone brooked no argument. He got up and dressed without complaint and Augusta watched, for the first time in her life truly appreciating a man’s solicitous nature. Usually, it made her feel like running as fast as she could in the opposite direction. But somehow Ian made her feel at ease, despite the fact that he had clearly stated his intentions—maybe even because of it.

But there was something that was hovering at the back of her head—a feeling that she couldn’t quite shake, though she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with Ian.

With everything going on, Sadie’s confession, knowing she still had to talk to Caroline, there was a heaviness in the air—a grim feeling she couldn’t escape. It elbowed its way into her joy, but she pasted a smile on her face as Ian saw her to her car door.

“Want me to drive you home? I can pick you up in the morning.”

“Nah . . . I’d better take the car.”

Accepting her answer, he let her lead the way, following behind her down the isolated road.

The night was clear but balmy. Augusta drove home with her windows only partway down, rolling slowly through stop signs rather than coming to a complete halt. Her doors were locked, but the silence was unnerving. As beautiful as the overlying oaks were, with their mossy curtains spilling down over the blacktop, she couldn’t shake the overall feeling of gloom. It was like a black cloud pressing down over her.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who felt that sense of gloom. After Amy Jones’s murder on Backcreek Road, a few more houses had popped up for sale. Realtor signs loomed out at her through the darkness.

It was strange how the murders were so concentrated in this area.

She had once read that serial killers lived and worked in areas they were stalking—they got jobs in positions where vulnerable people sought help. It was sinister, but not surprising. The simple fact that people lived and worked around such monsters and couldn’t recognize them for who they were was a little frightening.

Augusta liked to think her instincts were better than that.

She had never once gotten a bad feeling about Ian, even though her sister had pegged him as a murderer from the moment she set eyes on him. But his character had never raised a single red flag, as far as Augusta was concerned.

Maybe serial killers had multiple personalities? It seemed the only plausible explanation for how folks could miss what seemed to be right there in front of their faces.

Back in the early nineties, when the state executed Donald Pee Wee Gaskins, reviving the horrors he had committed upon the Lowcountry, she remembered reading that the guy claimed to have bought a hearse to haul his victims to his “own private cemetery.” Still no one believed his boasts. All his drinking buddies thought he was joking. But he wasn’t. By his own admission, Gaskins had murdered more than one hundred men and women, including the daughter of a state senator. Whether that was true or not, no one knew. He never shared the locations of their bodies and there were millions of acres of wetlands—impossible to search every inch.

After Gaskins, it literally took decades for Charleston to shrug off the cloak of fear thrown over the city—especially considering the public’s reawakening to his crimes after his execution. And now, like then, there was an aura of fear surrounding the community . . . except these killings were concentrated right here around Oyster Point Plantation . . . around the places Augusta had played as a child. That cemetery Cody had disappeared from was a frequent stop on their hikes.

She watched Ian in the rearview mirror with a smile.

Even the spooky evening couldn’t diminish the way he made her feel. He made her feel loved, even if he hadn’t said those three little words. After so many failed relationships, this time
felt
different. There was little point in denying it: Augusta was in love with him. She had turned to him after Sadie’s confession instead of reaching out to Caroline. Because she trusted him even more than she trusted her own family.

Once they reached the gates, as he had before, he refrained from entering behind her and simply waited for Augusta to get inside.

Spotlighted by his headlights, her sister Caroline sat on the top porch step with Tango lying quietly at her side. Her eyes mirrored Augusta’s pain, and Augusta saw . . . she knew about Josh.

Tango’s head came up as Augusta slid out of the car and his tail thumped once against the porch, though he didn’t get up. “Sadie just left,” Caroline told her as she shut the car door. But that was all; she said nothing about Ian or his presence at Oyster Point—though Augusta knew she had spied his car. It was impossible not to notice because she was sitting directly in his high beams. Nor did she make any accusatory remarks about the two of them having been together.

Out by the gate, Ian’s headlights turned away, casting her sister back into shadow, and then his glowing taillights disappeared slowly down the road as Augusta sat down on the porch steps next to Caroline. “Did she tell you everything?”

Caroline looked at her, and inhaled deeply. “I sure as hell hope so. We’ve had more than enough drama, don’t you think?” She reached behind her to stroke Tango, adding, “She was worried about you.”

Augusta sat quietly, uncertain what to say. She felt only a tiny bit of guilt for having taken comfort in Ian’s arms and leaving Caroline to face Sadie alone.

Tango whined and nuzzled his head across her back.

Tonight, there was a hint of a fog descending out on the water. The tin steeple of the boathouse was shrouded, but the water itself beyond the spartina grass was as lustrous as a sheet of black glass. Crickets chirped. Frogs croaked mournfully. Thankfully, they had missed the mating season this year, but if they were still here in March, she was going to have to buy a good set of headphones. The sound of mating frogs was deafening.

“Is she okay?” Augusta asked finally.

Caroline turned to look at her again. Augusta could tell she’d been crying. “Sad. I guess . . . this is hard for everyone.”

Augusta nodded, and the sting of tears suddenly reappeared in her eyes. The gloom suddenly descended a little lower. “Poor Mom,” she found herself saying.

Caroline simply stared at her, blinking, probably as stunned by the words that had come out of Augusta’s mouth as she was. Caroline’s eyes grew glassy as she stared at her sister. A trickle of moisture appeared at the corner of one eye, but was stillborn there.

Augusta took the opportunity to speak her mind—to put into words the things that had been plaguing her from the instant Sadie had revealed her secrets. “I judged Mom based on what I knew—which was absolutely nothing,” she confessed. Taking her by surprise, a tear slipped down her cheek.

Hearing the grief in her tone, Caroline threw an arm around Augusta’s shoulders. “We all did, Augie—Mom included—she judged herself. I’m pretty sure that’s why she continued punishing herself until the day she died.”

“Do you think she was
ever
happy, Caroline?”

“I don’t know. I think she was sad most of our lives—even before Sam—but she’s just as responsible as anyone for that,” Caroline offered. But her lips quivered a little, belying the calm, rational façade she was trying so hard to present. “If she wasn’t happy with Dad—with her life—she shouldn’t have stayed with him . . . but that’s easy for us to say now.”

“She did leave,” Augusta reminded her.

“Yeah, after everyone’s lives were practically ruined, hers included. Let’s face it, Dad was a bit of a sociopath.”

Augusta sat there, considering their entire family, leaning into Caroline’s embrace. “At one time I would have said Mom was, too.”

Caroline shook her head. “No way . . . there’s a difference between being incapable of feeling and choosing not to feel. Mom medicated herself so she wouldn’t feel. It’s not the same.”

It had been easier to think of Flo as heartless. Thinking of her in so much pain made Augusta feel infinitely worse. But tonight it was impossible not to see her mother as a human being—flawed, but trying to do her very best with what she had. There was a reason her mother had brought them all together here under one roof, and as she sat next to Caroline, listening to the hitch in her sister’s breath, she realized they needed each other far more than any of them had known. Flo had cared enough to force them together.

Maybe it was time to stop running? Maybe whether she liked this place or not—with all its sordid history and her mother’s ghost stumbling around, margarita in hand—it was time to face the past?

“I worry sometimes I take after Dad,” Augusta confessed. “I can’t seem to feel what you and Savannah feel.”

Caroline lifted both her brows and gave her an adamant shake of her head. “Augusta, there are a lot of things you are, sister dear, but unfeeling isn’t one of them. In fact, if you look up
firecracker
in the dictionary, your photo is next to the definition!”

Augusta laughed, despite the morose mood—despite the probable insult.

Caroline peered out into the marsh. “Anyway, it’s not really a matter of not feeling. Apparently, sociopaths do feel—they feel pain, anger—they just don’t have a conscience. They lack those sirens in their head when it comes to ethics and morality.”

“Yeah? When did you become Dr. Caroline?”

Caroline gave her a little smirk. “Probably about the same time I morphed into Mom.”

Augusta laughed again. “You know . . . I really didn’t mean that.”

“Oh yes, you did, but it’s okay.”

“Did you call Savannah?”

“Not yet.”

“What about Jack?”

“No. I was waiting for you.”

Augusta’s eyes watered at that revelation. At one point, long ago, they had been each other’s greatest support. “You could have called.”

Caroline shrugged. “Sadie was here all night. Besides, I was going to if you didn’t show up soon, but I was bracing myself for another lecture about how unsuited I was to be wearing Mom’s shoes.”

Augusta laughed. And still Caroline avoided bringing up Ian. She was thankful for the reprieve.

“No wonder Josh hasn’t been around,” Caroline said, after a moment. “Poor guy.”

“I guess,” Augusta said. “He was spoiled rotten and both Sadie and Mom doted on him. Mom was certainly way more forgiving of Josh than she ever was of us.”

“Yeah,” Caroline agreed. “He had it best for sure. He was the only man in a houseful of females and got away with murder.”

The two of them fell into silence, staring out at the black water. A warm breeze swept in from the marsh, tousling Augusta’s hair.

The scent of the mud was strong tonight—a sweet, sulfurous odor that permeated the air, especially now that the azaleas were done blooming. The faded blossoms were hanging on, but a little the worse for wear. Their mother used to tend the gardens herself, deadheading to encourage new growth. Now the bushes were full of petal blight, looking neglected and distressed. Augusta decided she’d do some reading and figure out how to care for them.

“I ran into the work crew today,” Caroline said after a long interval. “Thank you for getting that started, Augusta.”

She sounded as though she truly meant it.

“You’re welcome,” Augusta said and smiled. And together they sat, arm in arm, listening to Tango’s easy breathing beside them.

 

Sadie had forgotten to lock her door. She realized that fact only as she shoved her key into the lock. Shaking her head, she turned the handle and pushed the door open, revealing an immaculate living room, everything precisely as she had left it. She had too much time on her hands these days, and didn’t know what to do with herself, so she cleaned incessantly and put things away with OCD compulsion.

Good thing she had Gracie to clean up after and feed, or else she might be feeling worthless. Now she understood all the talk about empty nest syndrome. God only knew, she didn’t know what she was going to do with herself when the cat up and died.

She was a mess, she realized, as she locked the door behind her and walked straight back to the kitchen to pour a glass of tap water. Some folks didn’t like the island water, but Sadie did. She drank it standing at the sink as she stood peering out onto the marsh.

Lovely night—too bad she had spoiled the mood for everyone . . .

But whatever might come, she couldn’t regret it. It was time to get rid of all the bad juju around here . . . never mind that some things were never meant to see the light of day.