Garden of Secrets (13 page)

The uncertainty in her mother’s eyes also surprised Charlotte. Monica Adams was the epitome of confidence. She was always sure of what was right and what was wrong. Now she was looking to Charlotte for some sort of confirmation.

She chose her words carefully. “Dad’s main goal in life was to make you happy. That was the most important thing to him. I’m certain he’d want you to be happy now.”

“With another man?” her mother asked doubtfully.

“The wedding vows are only till death.”

“But I never imagined a time when your father and I wouldn’t be together.” Her mother blinked quickly, as if fighting tears. “He died too young. He had so much more to offer—not just me but everyone. The world was a better place with your father in it.”

“He was a good man,” she agreed.

“He’s missing so much,” Monica said, her voice thick with emotion. “So many important moments in our family.”

Charlotte swallowed hard, wishing her mother wasn’t going down this road. She’d had her own sad thoughts on the subject, and she tried not to think about it.

“He’s not going to see our grandchildren grow up or celebrate another birthday, another holiday,” her mother said. “He’s not going to walk you down the aisle, see you get married or have a baby of your own.’ ”

Charlotte sucked in a painful breath, her moth-er’s words conjuring up a dream that she wasn’t sure would ever happen.

Monica gave a helpless shake of her head. “I know death is final, but feeling it, living with loss every day, is so different. I wake up and think he’s in the next room. Sometimes I hear his footsteps in the hall. They’re so familiar. I look up and expect to see him in the doorway.”

“I know, Mom,” she got out, tears blurring her vision. Not having had the chance to say good-bye to
her father had left her with a hole in her heart that might never be repaired. Because he wasn’t coming back. She would never be able to talk to him again.

Her mother met her gaze. “I want you to have the kind of love I had, Charlotte. A man in your life who will stand by you, love you, and take care of you. A career won’t keep you warm at night, won’t comfort you through hard times, won’t be enough to fill your heart. You think I don’t know you, but I know you want more than you have.”

“Maybe I don’t know how to get more.”

“Maybe you don’t try.”

Her mother had a point; she’d never made getting a man a priority. Love was always put off for another day, down the road, far into the future.

“Start by opening your mind to the possibilities,” her mother continued. “Like Andrew.”

She sighed. “I’ll think about my future, but how did we get onto me? We were talking about you and your relationship. Is it serious with Peter?”

“I don’t know,” her mother said with a vague gesture. “He’s not your father.”

“No one could be. You can’t replace Dad.”

“No, I can’t.”

“But you like Peter.”

“He’s intelligent, interesting, and well read.”

“And he’s not bad to look at it,” Charlotte interjected with a mischievous smile.

“That’s beside the point,” her mother said sharply.

“Actually, it’s a big part of the point. If Mr. Lawson
makes you happy, then you should feel free to do whatever you like.”

“I’m not sure some ladies of the congregation would agree with you.”

“Well, who cares what they think?”

“I do.”

“But it’s
your
life, Mom. You need to live it.”

Her mother stared at her for a moment, weighing her words. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Her mother adjusted her glasses and returned her attention to her paperwork.

Sharing time was over. Their relationship would always be on her mother’s terms. But at least she was starting to feel as if they
had
a relationship. That was something.

One thing Joe didn’t like about his job was the amount of paperwork and administrative duties. Sometimes he felt more like an office manager than a cop. On the other hand, he enjoyed the power to get things done. No more bucking against the top brass, because that was him now. He did have a city manager and a mayor to answer to, both of whom were breathing down his neck at the moment. But he could take the heat. His focus wasn’t on pleasing them but on getting to the truth and arresting the right person. That wasn’t going to be Charlotte.

He got up as a knock came at his door. Fiona Murray had asked to see him, and he was curious. In her mid-eighties, with a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind, Fiona was the matriarch of Angel’s Bay. She was descended from one of the shipwreck survivors and ran the Angel’s Heart Quilt Shop, along with just about everything else in town. She didn’t mince words, worry about feelings, or apologize
for her beliefs, however crazy they might be. He liked that about her.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Chief,” Fiona said as she entered.

“No problem.”

Fiona had a strong grip for an elderly woman, and her eyes were bright, her hair a fiery shade of red that reminded him of her granddaughter, Kara. But Kara was a lot softer and warmer than her grandmother. With Fiona, he needed to stay on his toes.

“Can I get you some coffee or something else to drink?” he offered.

“No. I won’t take up much of your time. I’m concerned about the robbery at Sandstone Manor.”

“What concerns you, exactly?” he said as they both sat down.

“That the thief was after more than jewelry.”

“Like what?”

“Gold.” She clasped her hands together as she sat up straight. “Ingots, gold bars from the San Francisco gold rush, worth millions in today’s market.”

“Go on,” he said with interest.

“When the
Gabriella
went down in the 1850s, it was laden with gold. Most people believe that gold is lying on the bottom of the ocean in a wreck that no diver has been able to find. However, others think that some of the gold was brought ashore by George Worthington. He built half the town, and rumor has it that he had a stash of gold hidden away somewhere.” She took a breath, then continued her story.

“George and his teenage son, Grant, survived
the shipwreck while his wife and daughter perished. It was supposed to be women and children first, yet somehow George and his son managed to survive while the females in the family did not. Some think he sacrificed them to get the gold.”

“Sounds like a hell of a guy.”

“To pay penance, he built the church, which was one of the first buildings in town. He also built a number of other structures over the years, including Sandstone Manor. He remarried about six years after the wreck, but he still couldn’t find happiness, and ten years to the day after the wreck, he killed himself. He left a note for his son, apologizing for not saving his mother and sister and for letting his greed destroy their family. He said he was sorry for leaving Grant behind but that he hadn’t left him without anything—there was more gold than anyone had imagined.”

“There’s an actual suicide letter?” Joe asked in surprise.

“It was written about in one my ancestor’s journals.”

“Did the letter say where this gold was?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“That would have been too easy.”

“Life was never easy for the Worthingtons. Grant fell off a horse and died before he was forty. His son came down with pneumonia and died just after his marriage in his twenties. The males in the family seemed to be cursed, including Edward Worthington, the most recent owner of the manor.”

“He lived to be an old man, from what I understand.”

“Yes, but he lost his wife and child in a car accident. He became a hermit after that.”

“Let’s go back to the gold. Why wouldn’t the Worthingtons have put it in a bank?”

“Because the ingots were stolen.”

“And these bars were valuable?”

“Yes. During the gold rush, the miners would take their gold to the assayer’s office, and it would be melted into a bar, stamped with the date and the assay office, and then it could be used as money. A few years ago, such a bar was discovered in a shipwreck off the coast of Mexico, and it was valued at eight million dollars.”

She’d finally said something that he could wrap his mind around. A rare gold bar worth millions of dollars would be quite a prize. “What I don’t understand,” Joe said, “is why anyone would believe the gold bars still exist and weren’t sold off decades ago and why they would still be the house. Surely the last Worthington would have made certain that the gold was willed to someone in the family. Are there any other Worthingtons?”

“No. Edward was the last, which is why the house was put up for sale by his attorneys. Very few people were allowed into the manor for the last thirty years. It’s interesting that once the house changed hands and was opened up for a big party, there was suddenly a robbery. And the fact that the necklace Theresa was wearing was from the
Worthington estate . . . well, there seems to be a connection.”

“While you present a good motivation for robbery, it’s difficult to believe there would still be gold hidden somewhere in the house or on the property. The mayor and Theresa did some renovation work; wouldn’t they have looked for the gold?”

“Maybe they already found it,” Fiona said with a sharp smile.

“If they did, they haven’t mentioned it to me.”

“I’m sure they searched. Theresa was always looking for some connection between her family and the shipwreck. She couldn’t find one, so she bought one. That’s why she purchased a lot of the furnishings and pieces of jewelry from the estate. Here in Angel’s Bay, people who are related to descendants of the wreck are part of a special group.”

“A group Theresa wanted to get into.”

“Yes. I know it’s not important to you that your blood goes back to the shipwreck survivors, but others value the connection to the past. And there’s enough truth in our town legends to take them seriously. Think about it.”

“I will. And as long as all of the angel and shipwreck stories don’t get in the way of good police work, I’m fine with them,” he said with a smile.

She got to her feet. “You’re a very polite young man. I appreciate that. One of these days, you’re going to understand what it means to have faith in things you can’t see or touch.”

“You don’t think I have faith?” he asked curiously.

She gave him a long look. “Isn’t that why you came here—to get your faith back? Many people come here because they’ve lost their way, and this town heals them. There’s magic here. Maybe it’s goodness, faith, hope . . . or the angels. But whatever it is, it works.”

He drew in a deep breath. She knew nothing about his past, yet there was a lot of truth in what she’d said.

“Thanks for your time, Chief.”

“You’re welcome.” He walked her to the door, and as she made her way through the squad room, he went over to Jason’s desk.

“What was that all about?” Jason asked curiously.

“Hidden gold in Sandstone Manor.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Did Fiona bring a map with her?”

“Unfortunately, just a lot of rumor and speculation. Tell me you’ve discovered something more concrete than an old legend and a bunch of cursed Worthington men?”

“I’ve been reviewing the guest list. Approximately ten people left the party before we started taking names. One of those individuals was Peter Lawson, Mrs. Adams’s date to the party. Colin noticed an agitated discussion between Mr. Lawson and Mrs. Adams a little before midnight. Then Mr. Lawson left. Since Mrs. Adams refused to give a statement or be searched and Charlotte was near the scene of the crime, Mr. Lawson’s absence could be construed as being interesting.”

Joe frowned, hating that the facts were leading them back to Charlotte and her family. “Have you spoken to him?”

“I’ve left several messages. No return call yet. I’m going to ask Charlotte about him when she comes in this afternoon.”

“We need a different angle. One that doesn’t involve Charlotte or anyone connected to her.”

“Got any ideas?”

“Theresa. The theft was personal. Someone literally ripped the necklace off her neck and the ring off her finger. Talk to her friends. See if she had any enemies.”

“I’ve already spoken to a few people. She’s not well loved, but no one can imagine anyone wanting to hurt her.”

“Keep digging. What do you know about Pamela Baines?”

“Super-slutty in high school. Just arrived back in town.”

“Someone must have more recent information on her. Start with Reverend Schilling. They have a past, from what I understand.”

“I’ll get on it. Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“We’ll know it when we find it.”

Problems were just challenges, Andrew told himself as his car refused to start. Unfortunately, today had been filled with a few too many challenges, and
it was only noon. His determinedly optimistic outlook was taking a beating. First, Jason had called to quiz him about Pamela. Then the mayor had asked him to visit Theresa in the hospital. And now his car wouldn’t start.

While he was used to making hospital visits for those in the congregation, he wasn’t sure why the mayor had called. Robert and Theresa weren’t particularly religious and usually showed up only at Christmas and Easter. He couldn’t help wondering if Pamela was behind the request, finding another way to get to him. She’d probably love to watch him in action, her mocking eyes making him feel like a phony.

But he wasn’t a fraud. This was his life now—a life that he enjoyed, that made him feel proud, that made him happy.

A car pulled into the lot next to his, and Tory Hartley Baker stepped out. A slender, petite woman, Tory wore a dark red sweater dress with a floral scarf and a pair of boots. Her short light brown hair was straight and angled around her face, the front longer than the back, and her bright green eyes sparkled with friendly curiosity.

“Problems?” she asked as he got out to speak to her.

“Car won’t start.”

“Maybe it’s the battery. Does it just click when you turn the key?”

“Yes. You know about cars?”

“A little. I can give you a jump. I have cables in my car.”