Three Weddings and a Murder (38 page)

The crestfallen look on Anna’s face told him she caught the point he was trying to drive home.

“Doesn’t make sense, does it?” He continued, “Write down that Simone lied.” There was no way to put this diplomatically. “Anna, I’m sorry, but I think we have to consider the possibility that Simone might actually have abused Bobby.”

She shook her head. “That doesn’t add up. Let’s go back to your timeline. Simone saw her doctor last week. We
think
she discovered Bobby’s bruises on Friday, even though she denies it, because that’s when she called your office. Does Von Willebrand run in families?”

Anna was handling his accusation about Simone well. She was thinking objectively, not defensively. “Yes. And Von Willebrand is often associated with anemia. And we know for a fact Simone’s anemic.”

Anna started scribbling on the board. “What if Simone suspected Bobby has Von Willebrand, because her doctor told her
she
has Von Willebrand, and that’s why she called your office on Friday?”

“It’s possible, I suppose, but if that’s true, all she had to do was say so and we could have avoided this whole mess. If Simone hadn’t been so evasive, if she hadn’t lied to me about those bruises, I never would have called in social services.”

Anna spread more of the clippings and skimmed her fingers over their headlines. The color drained from her face, and she let out a soft gasp. “I think I may have found what Simone was looking for in the vertical file.”

He took a look at where she was pointing, and what he saw knocked him back a step. A photo of Megan—from her obituary. Nervously, he jangled the bracelet in his pocket, and then pulled it out. He’d almost forgotten about finding it in the bathroom. Turning the bracelet over in his hand, he inspected it carefully this time. His fingers slid over one of the charms—a misshapen key. He touched the bend in the shaft of the key a second time and closed his eyes.

No way this could be what he thought it was.

Holding his breath, he ran the pads of his fingers over the bow of the key and just about came out of his skin.

When he opened his eyes, Anna was staring at the bracelet, her mouth gaping. “Where did you get that?”

“Bathroom.” He could barely choke out the word. “Simone’s?”

She nodded. “She was here, Charlie. We have to call Nate.”

“I tried earlier, no signal. Anna, how long has Simone had this bracelet?” His palm tingled everywhere the silver links touched his skin. He reached a hand out and braced himself against the table.

“Since high school. You should sit down Charlie, I think you may be getting dehydrated.”

He shook his head. “See this charm, this little key? I made this key for Megan.”

“Come on Charlie, that’s not likely. There are millions of key charms
on sale at fine jewelers everywhere
. It’s just a coincidence.”

Picking up Megan’s obituary from the murder board, he pointed to her photograph and handed it to Anna. Megan was wearing a chain with a misshapen key around her neck. “Take a good look. I made that charm in shop class. I got a C because I screwed it up. It’s all bent, and it has three little holes in the bow of the key.”

Anna turned back to the murder board with determination. She crumpled the obituary in her fist, and then dropped it. “It isn’t the same key.” She spread the remaining clippings with her hands, desperately seeking an alternative explanation to the one that was forming over their heads like thunderclouds ready to rain down poison gas.

“I’m sorry, Anna.” He could see how distressed she was, and he was sick to his stomach himself, but however horrible the implication, Charlie knew that key. It was the same key he gave to Megan when they first started dating. She always wore it around her neck. Zero doubt about it. “Why was Simone looking at Megan’s obituary on Sunday, and how did she get hold of the charm that I made for Megan in high school?”

Anna fussed with the clippings again, and then picked up the
Tangleheart Gazette
. Her hands started to tremble, and her eyes filled with tears. “Charlie,” she whispered. “Look at Sally.”

“You’re avoiding again.”

“Look at Sally.” She shook the newspaper at him. “Please.”

Nodding, he took the paper from her hand. He’d seen that picture of Sally McMahon several times, but because of her resemblance to Megan, his attention had always been drawn to her face. He’d never even noticed the emerald around her neck—the one that looked an awful lot like the stunner Nate had given Simone last Saturday night.

Tuesday Late Night

A
NNA WAS HALFWAY OUT
of the Camaro when she felt a hand clamp onto her shoulder and jerk her backward. Her head slammed against Charlie’s collarbone with a tooth-rattling thwack that vibrated through her skull. She could practically feel her brain shimmy. The spare keys to the neighbor’s lake house always hung on a giant brass ring above the hearth at her Uncle Joe’s place. She should have noticed that key ring was missing as soon as they’d entered the cabin. She should have realized the lake house down the road would be far more comfortable for a mother and child than her uncle’s rustic cabin. But she hadn’t noticed. She hadn’t realized. And now they’d lost precious time that could possibly cost Simone and Bobby their lives. She lunged forward, and Charlie pulled her back again, and this time he pinned her to his chest beneath his arm.

“Let me go,” she demanded, wriggling like a puppy who’d been swooped into the safety of its master’s arms just as it was making ready to corner a venomous snake.

“No can do, Peaches. You know how to fire that pistol?” Easily controlling her with his one-armed hold, Charlie used his free hand to pat the butt of Uncle Joe’s .45, which gleamed on the dash.

“Better than you, I’m sure.” She relaxed into his arms. Physically, she was no match for Charlie. Might as well pretend to cooperate rather than waste time arguing with her pigheaded protector. “Let me go, and I promise to sit tight until we both agree on a plan.”

He released his hold on her, and she sat up, drew in a deep breath and rubbed the back of her skull. Charlie had parked his car off the side of the road in a spot partially concealed by a grove of cypress trees, but the moon was full, and she could see the lake house up ahead. Nate’s car was parked a few yards distant from the drive, perhaps to ensure a surprise approach. How the hell had Nate tracked Simone to the lake house?

“I’ve got signal.” Without warning, Charlie grabbed her and kissed her on the forehead with such force he may as well have bitten her—it was that gentle and that full of teeth. “Wait here and talk to the police. Do
not
get out of this car.”

He pressed 911, shoved his phone in her hand, and jumped out of the Camaro.

“Nine-one-one what is your emergency?”

“Charlie!”

He’d left the .45 on the dash.

W
HERE THE HELL
was Charlie? During the brief moments Anna had spent on the phone with the 911 operator, she’d completely lost track of him. But if he thought she was going to wait for him in the car while he rolled up to the house unarmed…

Cuh-rack
.

A branch snapped beneath her feet, and she froze. Pivoting her head from side to side, she surveyed her surroundings. As far as she could tell she was alone. But of course, she was relying on patches of moonlight to illuminate the way, and there were plenty of places Charlie…or Nate…might conceal himself; in that copse of chinaberry bushes to her right, for example, or maybe inside that antique wagon to her left.

The door to the lake house stood open, and lights flared through the curtains. Once inside, she’d make an easy target, but Simone would be a sitting duck too, and she wasn’t leaving her friend to fend off a killer on her own. Gingerly, she resumed her approach. A gang of crickets provided cover for the creak of the porch steps beneath her weight. Straight-arming Uncle Joe’s gun, she sucked in a blast of oxygen, crept inside the house, and ducked behind the other side of the door. Her ears pricked at the sound of a masculine timbre.

Nate
.

His voice, sharp and angry, was coming from an adjacent room.

And crying.

She heard crying too.

Bobby!

With her gun stuck out in front of her, tracing the circumference of her path, she spun across the room until she reached the half-closed door that led to the sound of Nate’s voice. Silently, she positioned herself to peer through the crack.

Nate perched on a hard-back chair and, as she’d seen him do on many occasions, bounced his young son on one knee.

Oh dear God
.

She had to cover her mouth to muffle the wheeze that escaped her lungs. Nate held Bobby on one knee and a pistol on the other. And that pistol was pointed at Simone, who huddled against the opposite wall. As Anna tightened her grip on her Colt, her arm trembled all the way from her shoulder to her wrist.

She hadn’t lied to Charlie. She really did know how to fire this gun, but it’d been years since Uncle Joe had taken her to the shooting range. No way would she risk firing at Nate with Bobby on his knee.

She tried to catch Simone’s eye, but it was no use. Simone’s gaze was locked on Bobby. Anna held her breath as Simone uncurled her body into a full stand and took a dangerous step toward Nate. “Please, just put the gun away before you hurt Bobby. I promise not to run.”

“Mommy wants Daddy to put the gun down.” Nate’s knee bounced up and down fast and then faster, and Bobby stopped whimpering and substituted squeals of delight for his father’s deadly game.

“Please, Nate. You don’t need a gun, and you know it. I—I’ll do anything you say.” Tears streamed down Simone’s face, carrying with them most of her mascara. The dramatic black streaks on her ghostly white skin made for a macabre picture almost as disturbing as Bobby innocently riding a killer’s knee.

“That’s right, Bobby. Daddy doesn’t need a gun, does he? Daddy doesn’t need a gun when he’s got baby Bobby.” Nate’s heartless chant sent a chill down Anna’s spine.

Simone wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Let’s just go home. I haven’t told anyone about…” her voice trailed off, and her eyes seemed to glaze over. “Let’s just go home. I won’t try to run away again. Not ever.”

“I’d like to believe you, babe. But I thought we came to an understanding earlier, and well, that didn’t really work out, now did it? You’re quite the little actress. In fact, you deserve a nod from the Academy for that performance you gave in Drex’s office.” The corners of his mouth curved cruelly. “Hell, you almost had
me
convinced you were a child abuser.”

Simone took another step forward. “You’ve got it all wrong. I tried my best to make Drex understand we’re both good parents.”

Nate hunched one shoulder. “You tried your best to convince him we’re
liars
. Clever, going on the defensive like that. You
wanted
Drex to put Bobby in the hospital. You
wanted
social services to take him out of our home just so you could get him away from
me—
his
own father. And when you realized your little scheme wasn’t working, that protective services wasn’t going to take Bobby after all, you grabbed him, and you ran.”

“No. I—”

Nate clucked his tongue and bounced his knee higher. “Don’t lie to me, babe. It’ll only make things worse between us.”

Simone clasped her hands in front of her, like a supplicant in prayer. “I’m sorry. But try to put yourself in my place. I found out about Megan and Sally on Sunday, and then the next day in Drex’s office, I panicked. I realize now that you never meant to hurt those girls. I just needed more time to adjust, that’s all, Nate.”

“You won’t try to leave me again?” His posture softened along with his tone.

Simone’s hand covered her throat. “I promise.” And then her voice went dead. “I love you.”

“It feels good to admit the truth, doesn’t it?” Nate asked, and Anna heard real emotion coming through his voice. Was it possible Simone could convince her husband to hand Bobby over to her? If so, Anna needed to be prepared to act. She crouched and aimed the pistol through the crack in the door—just in case she could get off a clear shot.