Garden of Secrets (12 page)

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Authors: Barbara Freethy

Tags: #Contemporary

BOOK: Garden of Secrets
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“What about Theresa’s sister?”

“If she was here, no one saw her,” Jason replied.

Joe put his hands on his hips as he studied the situation. One of his favorite parts of police work was putting together the pieces of a crime. “This doesn’t fit,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s too clumsy, unsophisticated, loud.”

Jason nodded in agreement. “Could be a sign of desperation. First plan didn’t yield the results the thief was looking for, so he came back. Or we have two different crimes to deal with.”

“Or someone wants to throw us off the track,” Joe added. “Give us something else to investigate, as a distraction. What do you know about this place?”

Jason shrugged. “What everyone knows. It was owned by various generations of the Worthington family. The last owner, Edward Worthington, was a recluse. He lived here for thirty-plus years, but no one saw much of him.”

“What about the housekeeper? Did she come with the Monroes, or did she work for Worthington?”

“She worked for Mr. Worthington for twenty-five years. Mrs. Monroe asked her to stay on when the house was sold. The gardener has been here about eight years, and he seems to speak less English than Mrs. Garcia. The day help is mostly new since the Monroes moved in.”

“Well, someone knew this house well enough to shut down the lights and get in and out of the house quickly. We need to take a close look at anyone who fits that description.”

“The employees have access to the house. They wouldn’t need to break this window.”

“True. Could be two separate events or the same person with a different motive. What else could a thief want, besides the jewelry they already took?”

An odd look passed through Jason’s eyes. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but there are rumors that the Worthingtons stashed some of the gold from the shipwreck in the house. But the house has passed through several generations, so I can’t put much credence in that story.”

“Are there any Worthingtons still alive?”

“I don’t believe so. That’s why the house went up for sale. But I’ll double-check.” Jason paused. “I’ve asked Charlotte to come in on her lunch break today to give a more detailed statement. The mayor wants her interrogated, and I can’t put him off again. Not that I anticipate getting any useful information; she’s completely innocent.”

Joe’s gut clenched at the thought of anyone grilling Charlotte, but he knew Jason would make it as painless as possible.

“Do what you have to do. I’m heading to the station now. I’ll talk to you later.”

As he drove down the road and back onto the main highway, Joe saw a familiar figure a half mile down the road. Charlotte was jogging in the bike
lane. She had on black leggings and a bright blue T-shirt, and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He remembered the silky feel of her hair in his hands, the softness of her skin, the sweet taste of her mouth. God, one look, and he was right back where he’d been the night before.

He needed to get a grip and focus. While he loved the way her hips swayed with each running step, he didn’t love the fact that she was so close to the Sandstone property. Why would she come out here when she lived on the other side of town?

He drove past her and pulled off to the side, getting out of his car as she ran toward him.

Her smile was surprised as she slowed her steps. “Joe, what are you doing out here?”

“I was going to ask you the same question. You don’t usually come this way, do you?”

“I felt like a longer run. I did a lot of eating yesterday.”

“And you thought the best place to run would be right past Sandstone Manor?” he asked sharply, because snapping at her made it easier to keep his hands off her.

Her gaze narrowed as she planted her hands on her hips. “What kind of question is that?”

“You’re a suspect in a burglary that took place a half mile from here.”

“So?”

“So someone threw a brick through the glass panel next to the front door of the Monroes’ house earlier this morning.”

Her jaw dropped in astonishment. “Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“I didn’t jog on their property. I stayed on the road.”

“Can you prove that?”

She threw her shoulders back, anger tightening her lips. “Obviously, I can’t.”

“Any cars pass you on this road?”

“A couple.”

“Anyone you know?” he pressed, not sure whether he wanted witnesses. But he’d learned a long time ago that asking detailed questions saved him trouble in the long run.

Charlotte thought, then nodded. “Mr. Owens waved to me. And Jane Bentley was driving her kid to school.”

“Once again, you’ve ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time, and we have witnesses.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You shouldn’t have come up here, Charlotte. Why would you? It’s not anywhere close to your house.”

“I’ve made this run lots of times. And how would I know someone was going to break into the house again?”

“You need to stay away from the house, from the hospital, from the Monroes, and from anyone or any place with a link to what happened.”

“I can’t stay away from the hospital; I work there. And I shouldn’t have to hide out. I’m not guilty of anything. You know that.”

“Knowing it and being able to prove it are two different things.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “What did they take this time?”

“I don’t know yet. Jason was starting to investigate when I left.” As a car passed by them, a woman giving them a curious look, he realized that
he
was making the mistake this time. He shouldn’t have had this conversation on the side of the road, creating even more speculation. “I’ll drive you into town.”

“I’d rather run. I need the exercise.”

“You need to be farther away from here,” he said bluntly, moving around the vehicle to open the door for her.

After a momentary hesitation, she got in. “Fine. You can drive me to Elm Street, then I’ll run the rest of the way in.”

He slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and pulled onto the highway. Charlotte folded her arms in front of her chest, staring straight ahead for a few long minutes. He didn’t like the tension between them, but he didn’t know how to diffuse it. Every subject he thought to bring up seemed fraught with potential problems. So he stayed silent.

“You can let me off here,” Charlotte said.

He pulled over to the side of the road. “Are you sure you won’t let me drop you off at home?”

“This is fine.” She put her hand on the door, then paused. “How much trouble am I in?”

He glanced at her, seeing the worry in her eyes. “I’m sure you weren’t the only runner on that road
this morning, and it’s unlikely that someone would break in without some means of transportation to make a quick getaway. But I want you to be more aware of your surroundings, Charlotte. This second break-in could be a distraction or another attempt to get something that was missed. Whatever the reason, it means this isn’t over yet.”

“I understand.” She drew in a breath and let it out, her gaze still clinging to his. “Should we talk about last night?”

He hesitated, not sure he wanted to have that conversation now. “I need to get to work, and so do you.”

She nodded. “Okay. Then I’ll see you later—not in a police lineup, I hope.”

He tried to smile at her attempt at a joke. Despite Charlotte’s innocence, circumstantial evidence was piling up against her. They needed to come up with another suspect and another theory that would get her off the hot seat.

Police lineup
. . . What a stupid joke, Charlotte thought as she ran home. Joe hadn’t laughed, either. He’d had his serious chief-of-police face on all morning. In fact, he’d been harsher and colder than she’d ever seen him. Did his bad mood have something to do with her abrupt departure last night? She couldn’t blame him for being pissed at her; she’d been sending him mixed signals. Things were happening too fast, so she’d slowed them down.

Sighing, she sprinted the last block and jogged up the steps to her house. She stretched on the porch for a few minutes, then went inside to take a shower. She was looking forward to going into the office and losing herself in work. Being a doctor was one thing she did really well.

After getting dressed, she stopped into the kitchen to fill her travel mug with coffee. Her mother was at the breakfast table, reviewing her daily planner. Despite the early hour, her mother was stylishly dressed and perfectly made-up. Involved in numerous charities at the church and within the community, she always seemed to have a busy schedule.

“Pretty flowers,” Charlotte commented as she paused to inhale the sweet scent of pink roses in a vase on the counter. “Did Mr. Lawson give you these?”

“Those aren’t mine,” Monica replied, pushing her reading glasses to the top of her head as she lifted her gaze. “They’re for you, from Andrew. He stopped by a half hour ago.”

“Oh, that was sweet of him.” Roses before breakfast? Andrew had certainly learned how to romance a woman in the decade since she’d first gone out with him. She felt a little guilty, though. She hadn’t been thinking about Andrew at all when she’d been kissing Joe yesterday.

“Andrew is worried about you,” her mother added. “And now so am I. Why didn’t you tell me you were upstairs at the time of the robbery? I didn’t
realize you were on the second floor when the lights went out.”

Her heart sank. She’d hoped to keep her mother out of it as long as possible. “It wasn’t a big deal, and I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Not a big deal? Detective Marlow called a few minutes ago and asked me to confirm that you’d be going to the station on your lunch break.”

“Boy, people get up early around here,” she muttered.

Her mother’s mouth drew into its familiar disapproving line. “What on earth is going on?”

“Nothing. I went upstairs to find the bathroom, and the lights went out. I had nothing to do with Theresa’s assault.”

“You should have told me. I don’t like to be caught off guard by rumors around town involving my children.”

“I’m not a child anymore. I’ll handle this.”

“Does it ever cross your mind that I might be able to help you?” her mother asked in exasperation.

There was a tremendous amount of irony in that question. Her mother hadn’t helped her when she was a teenager, when she had confessed the biggest secret of her life, that she was pregnant. No, she’d been criticized and condemned and made to keep the secret until her mother could figure out what to do. The miscarriage had solved her mother’s problems but not hers. And their relationship had never recovered.

In the past few months, she’d been trying to get
past the old hurts, to see her mother as she was now and not as she was then. To forgive and forget. She’d thought her mother was trying to do the same thing, but it was difficult for them to step out of the roles they’d always played with each other.

“Charlotte,” her mother prodded. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes, I’m listening. Jason’s interview is just a formality,” she said. “It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“I can go on my own. You’ll make it a bigger deal than it is.”

“Charlotte—”

“No. Look, you refused to be searched or finger-printed the night of the assault. I don’t need the police to think you’re covering for me.”

Her mother’s widened eyes reflected her shock. “They couldn’t think that. I had no idea at the time that you were in any way involved.”

“Of course. But what if I had stolen the jewelry and handed it off to you?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Nothing we can prove beyond a shadow of doubt. If you go with me, there’s a good chance someone will ask you questions. I’d prefer to do this on my own.”

“You prefer to do everything on your own, which is usually the problem. Your father would turn over in his grave if you were charged with burglary or assault.” She shuddered at the thought. “One of the
last things he asked me to do was look out for you. As if you’d let me.”

She stared at her mother in amazement. “You never told me that. In fact, when I asked if Dad had had any last words before he died, you said no.”

“Well, they weren’t his last words. They were just part of one of the many conversations we had after he got sick.”

“I didn’t know I was on his mind,” she said, grappling with that fact. She’d often felt invisible where her father was concerned. She couldn’t remember having any deep, personal conversations with him growing up. She’d always felt on the outside of the circle. It was partly why she hadn’t rushed back when he was sick; she’d been unsure of what to say to him or if he even really wanted her there.

“Of course you were on his mind. This family was everything to him.”

It certainly hadn’t felt that way. But sharing that thought with her mother wasn’t a good idea, so she grabbed an apple out of the fruit basket and turned toward the door. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Don’t forget the fund-raising meeting at the church—seven o’clock.”

She paused at the door. “I’ll be there if I don’t have to work late.”

Her mother frowned. “This is important, Charlotte. We’re discussing plans for the new children’s classroom. It was an important project for your father, and Andrew has decided to continue efforts in that direction.”

“I said I’d be there.”

“I just want you to know that I’m carrying out your father’s wishes.”

There was something odd about her mother’s words. “Why would I think anything else?”

A frown crossed Monica’s lips. “Because of Peter.”

“Mr. Lawson?” she echoed in surprise.

“You don’t like that I’m seeing him.”

“That’s not exactly true,” she said slowly. “I’ll admit it’s a little strange to see you with another man. But I’m not against it.”

“You’re not?” her mother asked, a hopeful look in her eyes, as if her answer was important.

That thought threw Charlotte. Her mother didn’t ask for her opinion ever. “If you like him and he treats you well, then I have nothing to say.”

“He does treat me well, with the exception of deserting me at the party. Other than that, he’s been very attentive.” She sighed. “It’s just that our friendship feels a little ...wrong.”

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