Secrets in the Shadows (28 page)

“Do I need to make up fliers for each of the unidentified men?” Maria asked.

“No. I think as long as we don’t see them again in the more recent tapes, and if they’re not mentioned in the journals from the past few months, it’s probably safe to assume none of these men are the killer.” Wyatt sat down in one of the chairs. “That’s not to say we won’t keep our eyes open. If we see a man in the videos who matches the description of our guy, by all means, see what you can do. Ethan, what have you found out from the journals so far?”

Ethan sat back in his chair and rubbed his jaw. “The first journals start about fourteen years ago. She talks about boys she had crushes on, her parents, that sort of thing. She would have been about sixteen or so, and it’s just typical teenage angst and dreams. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, no red flags.”

“Does she mention names?” Stacy asked.

“Some, but mostly she uses initials. However, her tone changes toward the end of the second journal, becomes more… brittle, I guess. She uses some veiled references that lead me to think there must have been some kind of abuse going on. Did you learn anything about her past from her attorney today, Stacy?”

“Oh, yes. Your suspicions are dead on. Apparently, her father was raping her. Oh, and Charity Vaughn? Not the name she was born with.”

Wyatt scowled. “I beg your pardon?”

“Charity Vaughn was born Margaret Kelly Vernon, Margie for short, and she grew up just thirty miles from here, in Clayhole, Indiana.”

Ethan sat straight up in his chair and looked at her without blinking. “Son of a bitch.”

“I thought that might get your attention.” To everyone else, she explained, “Charity was Lauren Grant’s cousin.”

“That changes things quite a bit, doesn’t it?” Maria asked.

Ethan and Stacy both nodded. “Yes, and it gets better,” Stacy said. “Or worse, depending on your point of view.” She told them about Charity’s large estate.

“Where’d she get that kind of money?”

“After she left here, she managed to get to Georgia, and hooked up with a couple who ran an escort service. They took her to the Miami area and pimped her out at parties. She met someone there who got her out of that life. Ever hear of Mason Smythe?”

Wyatt just groaned and covered his face with his hands. Stacy knew he was probably ready to hand over his badge and run for the hills right about now.

Jason was the first to recover. “Holy mother of—
the
Mason Smythe? Reclusive billionaire? One of the nation’s most famous gallery owners? That Mason Smythe?”

Stacy nodded. “One and the same. Charity swore to her attorney that he was never a client, but instead had taken her in and, for all intents and purposes, adopted her. He helped her change her name, and paid for all kinds of plastic surgery. That’s why no one here recognized her.”

“And that’s where her money came from.” Maria’s face reflected her surprise. “Speaking of that, how much are we talking about?”

“At the time of her death, she was worth about twelve million dollars, if you factor in the value of the gallery.” She was grim as she finished. “That’s an awful lot of motive, if you ask me.”

“Twelve million—I need a drink,” Wyatt said. Standing, he stalked to the room’s only window. “So, Charity Vaughn, aka Margie Vernon, is Lauren Grant’s cousin. Does Lauren know that, I wonder?”

“Not from what Davis told me,” Stacy said. “Charity went to great lengths to make sure no one here recognized her, especially Lauren. But this does lend a lot of weight to the theory that the vandalism at the Brown Bag and her murder are related. Ethan?”

“No, I’d say she doesn’t know. She told me about her cousin during our interview, and I’ve talked to her about it since then. If she knows about the dual identity, I’ll eat my badge. I was supposed to have gone up to Jefferson County today to talk to Troy Vernon about the vandalism. He’s the guy Lauren thinks might be responsible. I don’t believe in coincidences. If she’s right, he’s very likely involved in the murder.”

Stacy shuffled through the folder containing the will. “Troy Vernon is Charity—Margie—whatever the heck you want to call her, he’s her brother.” She looked at Ethan, her heart starting to pound. “I think we have a solid suspect.”

“Thank God,” Wyatt said. “I’ll call Sheriff Wallace up in Madison, have him send a unit to pick Troy up for questioning. If we’re lucky, the sheriff will be in the mood to play ball and let us bring him over here for a talk.”

Ethan stood, agreeing. “Good. While you do that, though? We need to go talk to Lauren.”

The doorbell rang a few minutes after five o’clock. Lauren had just gotten out of the shower and was trying to decide what to wear for the night out with Annie and Beth. “Good. They can help me decide.” Grabbing her robe, she hurried downstairs. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the bell rang again. “I’m coming already,” she hollered.

She threw open the door. “You’re early! Oh, crap.”

Instead of her friends, Ethan and Stacy stood on the porch, looking slightly surprised by her greeting.

Stacy smiled. “We obviously aren’t who you were expecting. Sorry about that.”

Lauren knew her face was fiery red, and she clutched the robe tighter around her neck. “Is everything okay? My parents, Ava?”

“Fine, as far as we know,” said Ethan. “That’s not why we’re here. Mind if we come in for a few minutes?”

She invited them in, leading them to the living room. “Do you mind if I run upstairs and put on some clothes?”

“That’s fine,” Stacy told her.

She dashed upstairs. Grabbing the clothes she’d taken off earlier, she pulled them on and went back down to the living room. They both turned as she came in, and their somber expressions warned her that whatever the reason for their visit, it wasn’t good news.

“What’s going on?”

“You’ve heard about Charity Vaughn?” Ethan asked, watching her closely.

“That she was found dead? Yes, I heard. It’s horrible. Have you found the person who did it?”

“We have a suspect, yes,” said Stacy. “How well did you know Charity?”

“Not very well. We were both in the Ladies’ Business League, and we saw each other at the stores, a few social functions, but that’s all. We didn’t run in the same circles,” she told them. “While we were friendly, we weren’t friends.”

Ethan and Stacy exchanged a look, and Stacy pulled out a sheet of paper, handing it to Lauren. “Do you recognize this man?”

With a startled gasp, she looked up at Stacy, her eyebrows raised. “That’s Troy. Troy Vernon.”

“Are you certain?” Stacy asked.

“Positive.” She looked back at the flier and frowned. “You don’t think Troy had something to do with Charity’s death?”

“Would it surprise you if we said yes?” Ethan asked her.

Lauren was quiet for a moment, and then shook her head. “No, I don’t suppose it would. Remember what I told you?” She looked at Stacy. “You know the creepy feeling that some men give you? Guys who set off a light bulb inside you that says, ‘something’s not right with him’?”

“Oh, yes,” Stacy replied. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. It’s a kind of radar women have, an instinct.”

They both looked at Ethan, who nodded. “Obviously, being male, I’ve never experienced the phenomenon, but I’ve heard my mom and sisters mention it.”

“Well, Troy sets that off in me,” Lauren said. “That day in the shop, when I had the blowup with Mary Margaret, he gave me a look that set me on edge. Maybe I’m overreacting, and it was just that I was upset about seeing them, but I don’t think I’d want to be alone with Troy anywhere.” She shook her head. “But why would he kill Charity? There’s no reason for it…” Her voice trailed off when she read their looks. “There’s something more, isn’t there?”

Ethan’s voice was quiet. “Lauren, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just put it out there. Charity Vaughn was living under an assumed name. Apparently, she changed it years ago, when she moved from Indiana to Florida.” He looked at her and saw that she was connecting the dots. She started shaking her head as he continued. “Charity was your cousin, Margie Vernon.”

She stared at him, horrified. “No. No, you’re wrong.” Standing, she backed away from them. “You’re wrong, damn it. I would have known. I would have known.” She clapped a hand over her mouth to hold a scream of protest inside, and it was only then that she realized she was crying.

Stacy spoke up. “I’m sorry, Lauren, but it is true.”

The front door opened and Beth and Annie came in, just in time to hear Lauren’s denial and Stacy’s response.

“What the hell is going on?” Beth asked, glaring at Ethan as she rushed up to comfort her friend. “What did you do to her?”

His scowl was fierce and he opened his mouth to fire back, but stopped and lowered his voice. “Not a damned thing.”

Lauren, who let Annie guide her to a chair, agreed. “Beth, don’t yell at him. He just told me something very upsetting, but it’s not Ethan’s fault.”

“The family’s okay, aren’t they?” Annie asked.

“They’re fine,” Stacy answered when Lauren couldn’t. “Lauren, is there anything we can do for you?”

She started to say no, but realized there was something. “How did I not know it was her?”

“From what her attorney told me earlier, she had undergone extensive plastic surgery—nose, breasts, possibly more. She dyed her hair, and wore colored contact lenses. I’m sorry.”

Lauren’s arms were tightly crossed. A tear spilled over and she angrily wiped it away. “Why would she lie?” she asked them, voice shaking. “If she was here, all this time, why would she lie about who she was? Why wouldn’t she come to me, tell me she was Margie?”

Her voice broke over Margie’s name, and she stood. “I have to go. Excuse me.” Without waiting, she ran down the hall to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

~
* ~

Back in the living room, Annie and Beth were trying to figure out the situation. Annie spoke before Beth could. “Would one of you please tell us what’s going on?”

“How much do you know about Lauren’s cousin Margie?” Ethan asked.

Beth shrugged. “We’ve all talked about it. We’re aware of the situation. Why?”

“Because Charity Vaughn was her cousin.” He saw the moment when the words made sense to her.

“Oh, my God.” Beth looked at Annie. “Oh, no.”

“Are you sure?” Annie asked. “Surely it’s a mistake.”

Stacy told her it wasn’t. She and Ethan stood. “Are the two of you able to stay with Lauren?”

“Of course,” Beth assured her. “We’ll call her parents, let them know what’s happening if that’s okay. Do you have any idea who the killer is?” Ethan’s eyes narrowed, but before he could speak, she continued. “I’m not asking because I’m going to run put it in the paper. Her parents are going to ask, and they have the right to know. Use your brain, Ethan, just this once—I know it’s hard, but I have every confidence you can pull it off.”

“Beth,” Annie scolded. “That was mean.”

“He’s a big boy. If he can dish it out, he can take it. Well?”

A muscle ticking in his jaw, he responded. “We have a person of interest. Stacy, I’ll wait for you in the car.” He went to leave the room, but had to move past Beth to get to the door. When she didn’t move, he growled. “Do you mind?”

With a flourish, she stepped aside and let him pass. As the storm door banged closed behind him, she let out a weary breath, all her bravado gone.

“If you’re finished with your pissing contest, I’m going to go check on Lauren,” Annie said. “And for God’s sake, figure this thing out before the two of you kill each other.” She headed down the hall to the bathroom.

Beth’s cheeks flushed as she walked Stacy to the front door. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. He just…”

The detective blew out a breath. “I know. The two of you—Annie’s right. You can’t go on this way.”

“We used to be friends, you know. Lately? I think he hates the very sight of me.”

Stacy’s smile wasn’t unsympathetic. “Let Lauren know that she can call either of us if she has questions, okay?”

Beth closed the door with a groan. “God, why can’t we figure this out?” Hearing Lauren and Annie coming back down the hall, she straightened and turned. Figuring Ethan out would have to wait; right now, Lauren needed her friends.

Lauren was devastated. She’d known for a long time that when she found Margie, her cousin might be dead, but she’d never expected things to turn out this way. Seated on the couch between Beth and Annie, all she could think about were the times she’d spoken with Charity. She searched her memory for any clue, any nuance that should have tipped her off.

“Lauren, honey, we should probably call your parents.” Annie pushed her hair back off her face. “Don’t you think?”