Carolina Heat (15 page)

Mark followed her lead. “Sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusion. Poor Annabelle hasn’t been treated very well by the residents of our fair city.”

Annabelle slid an arm around his waist to leave no doubt in Prescott’s mind exactly how close of friends they were. Mark obliged by circling her shoulders with his arm.

“I hate to see her upset. When those big green eyes fill up with tears,” he spread his hands in a helpless gesture, “I don’t know what to do.”

Great. Now she was the clichéd female who bursts into tears at the drop of a hat. Doubtless it was payback for making him play the part of the silent boyfriend.

“No offense taken.” Prescott beamed at the two. “It’s nice to see the younger generation of men still being solicitous of a lady. Speaks well of your upbringing. I am, however, quite disturbed you’ve not been made welcome. Charleston is known for its hospitality. It’s disgraceful that people are so rude in this day and age.” His face broke into a wide smile. “Let me take the two of you to dinner. Someplace you can rave about in that article of yours. It would be my very great pleasure.”

Annabelle returned his smile. “How kind of you,” and was cut off as Mark broke in smoothly.

“But we already have dinner plans.”

It was the first she’d heard of plans, and dinner with Prescott might yield them more information. What did Mark have up his sleeve?

Prescott looked disappointed. “I understand. If you change your mind, consider it a standing invitation for the rest of your time here.” He consulted a pocket watch. “I’m afraid I have a meeting, so we’ll have to cut this short. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave the details on the missing book with my secretary. And do stay for a while and look through the rest of my collection. See if you spot something else your curator friend might like.”

Annabelle caught her breath. “Your books are here?”

“I don’t get out to Prescott Hall much, so the bulk of my collection’s in the city. Moved the lot of them into a storage room while my townhouse is being painted. Not ideal conditions, of course, but for a few weeks it shouldn’t do too much damage. If the painters had finished on schedule while I was gone, I wouldn’t still be living out of a suitcase at a hotel.”

“You went on vacation to avoid painters?”

“Actually, I went to see my brand new granddaughter.” His eyes twinkled. “Six weeks old and cute as a bug. I wish her parents didn’t live in Atlanta. Makes it harder for me to spoil her.” He pulled pictures out of his breast pocket and handed them around.

Annabelle believed him without reservation. His leaving town had nothing to do with the missing book. It was nothing more than a coincidence. One more coincidence to cross off the rapidly shrinking list of possibilities. Her cell phone rang, so she made her excuses and left the room. Mark followed right behind, closing the door so Mr. Prescott couldn’t overhear the conversation.

“Annabelle Carlyle.”

“Carlyle, it’s Ralph Paxton.” His voice boomed so stridently she could tell Mark heard every word.

“Ralph, this is a surprise. I didn’t expect to hear from you. You made it clear this was a hands off, don’t-bother-checking-in type of assignment.”

“I’m the one who set the ground rules, Carlyle, so I can certainly break them. And I’m not checking in. You think I have time to babysit you?”

Annabelle rolled her eyes at Mark. “No, I don’t. Just like I don’t have time to chat right now. What can I do for you?”

“Thought you should know they found Tad.”

“What?” She grabbed Mark’s hand in excitement, and he squeezed back tightly. “That’s wonderful news. Where has he been?”

“Cape Romain National Wildlife Refuge. Somewhere near Charleston. And when I say they found Tad, I mean they found his body. At least, what’s left of it. Quite a few alligators in those woods. Some poor fisherman found him.”

“Oh, Ralph, I’m so sorry.” Annabelle’s heart plummeted right to the floor. It was one thing to keep a modicum of hope when Tad and Vanessa were both merely missing, but with him turning up dead it was improbable that Vanessa’s fate was any different. Mark shifted, putting his arm around her waist for support.

“My wife is holding up. We’ve been expecting this ever since he disappeared. Helps to not be wondering anymore. But this thing isn’t over, Annabelle.”

“What do you mean? Aren’t the police investigating now? They can’t turn a blind eye to a mauled body. I mean, no one voluntarily cavorts with alligators. It has to be a homicide case.”

“Seems obvious to you and me, but not to the Charleston PD. His rental car was parked along the river bank about a mile from where they found him, along with some fishing gear. They’ve chalked it up to some ill-prepared tourist being out of his environment and paying the consequences. Labeled it an accident and closed the case before his body got shipped back to Boston.”

“And you reminded them about Vanessa?”

“Tried to again, but it was another dead end. This whole mess is still on your shoulders, Carlyle. I want to find the bastard who did this to my brother-in-law. On the other hand, I don’t want to get a call next week telling me they found you in some river as fish bait. If you want to bail out now, I understand.”

She closed her eyes. This was one of those monumental forks in the road. The sadness which suffused her was replaced by an icy resolve. Mark dropped a kiss on her forehead and stepped back.

Her voice was low and dead calm. “No low life, murdering son of a bitch is going to keep me from finding Vanessa.”

“Exactly what I thought you’d say. Have to admit I’m glad to hear it. Remember to keep your head down, Carlyle, and don’t be afraid to call in the cavalry once you find something.”

Annabelle lowered her arm and stared at her phone, unmoving. The ramifications of this news were unmistakable. The danger factor had ratcheted up several notches, and now she’d dragged Mark right into the thick of it.

“I take it you heard the conversation.”

Mark shoved his hands deep into his pockets and nodded. “Kind of hard not to. Guy’s got a voice that could herd rhino. How are you doing?”

“I’m actually trying not to process any of it right now. If I let myself get too scared or worried, I won’t do anything but huddle in a ball.”

“Sounds reasonable.” He took her hand and walked with her down the hallway. “We have hundreds of books to sort through. If we head back to the main lobby we’ll probably find someone who can get us started.”

His matter-of-fact approach was exactly what she needed. Focus on the task at hand, the facts. Not the emotion threatening to choke her. “You’re right. And we have a clue, which is always helpful. What do you know about this Cape Romain place?”

“I know I’d take it out of the clue column. Suffice it to say he isn’t the first person to go missing there, or to feed the alligators. Everyone knows about it.”

Annabelle picked her way through the implications of Ralph’s message. No piece of information was too small to be considered. “Let’s think about the logistics. It can’t have been too hard to plant the fishing equipment. It would take two people, though. One to drive Tad’s car out there, and another one to follow with a car to get home.”

“Could be. Or, one person could’ve strapped a canoe to the top of the car and floated down the river. If so, there might be scratch marks on the roof.”

“Well, we can’t worry about it now, since I doubt the police still have the car impounded.” She stopped a few feet short of the lobby and turned to face him. “Listen, I was planning to tear into you about the way you blew up at Prescott. The only thing I could imagine was you had some wild idea of playing good cop/bad cop that went way too far. Before you explained what was going on, I thought you’d gone crazy.”

“I lost it there for a little while,” Mark conceded.

She dismissed the incident with a wave. “You had a good reason. I’m not mad. And I want to talk to you about what happened after. I know it seems like a little thing, but I have to tell you how much I appreciate you holding my hand back there. It really helped.”

Mark ran a finger slowly down her cheek. “Darlin’, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It doesn’t weaken you in any way to let people lend a hand, if you’ll forgive the pun.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m a professional writer. I never forgive punning. I knew I was crazy to get involved with you.”

CHAPTER TEN

Annabelle and Mark were alone in a crowded storage room. Floor to ceiling shelves were covered with leather volumes. Boxes were stacked next to the shelves, with loose books piled on top of them. Annabelle winced, already anticipating the cramp in her neck from craning sideways to read the titles.

“This is going to take a while,” she said.

“Now I see why you wanted me to come along. I was starting to wonder during the meeting.”

“Wonder what?” Her fingers trailed across each spine to make sure she didn’t go cross-eyed and skip over a few.

“Why I came. You seemed to have things in hand.”

She whirled around. “Are you serious? You made all the difference in the world! I’d be wasting my time running around town right now trying to find Varina Howell if it wasn’t for you.”

He jammed his hands in his pockets, stared at his feet and shrugged. “Probably wouldn’t have taken too long to realize the only place to find her is a cemetery. Most folks around here remember everyone connected to the Civil War like it happened yesterday.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes. “All right, Dering, you can drop the
aw shucks
routine. I’m used to working alone, so I took the lead with Prescott. Maybe a little too much, I grant you. On the other hand, you’ve got to admit the good cop/bad cop routine worked well in the end. I have to say, this partner deal isn’t half bad.” She broke off when she noticed his head was still bowed, and he was rooted to the floor. “Mark, come on. You can’t really be mad at me?”

His head came up swiftly. His black eyes glittered, not with anger or hurt, but excitement.

“I’ve got it. We
should
be out tracking Varina Howell—or at least her great-great-great grandchildren. It all revolves around the Civil War. Doesn’t matter the rank of the soldier; if a family member served under Jeff Davis, it’s a matter of great pride.” He gripped her shoulders tightly. “
As if it all happened yesterday
. It’s the key.”

“A family member.” Annabelle gave a hoot of glee, and rewarded Mark with a big, smacking kiss on the lips. “You big, brilliant, beautiful man!”

Mark barely kissed her back before returning to his brainstorm. He began to pace the small room, hands still shoved deep in his pockets for safety. One careless gesture with his arms and they’d be buried in books.

“A
disgruntled
family member,” he corrected her. “Someone way back in the family tree either got kicked out of the Confederate Army or never served at all. Maybe went up North, or maybe went to England to wait it all out.”

“Imagine the scandal. At best, the man was a coward, afraid to serve. At worst, a traitor, running away to the Yankees. Bad enough in any family, sure, but in the same family as the President of the Confederacy?”

“Nobody knew about it back then. Had to be a deep, dark secret. Otherwise, it’d be in the history books. And trust me, I’ve read them all.”

She chewed her lip, considering. “Someone today has been dining out for years on their relationship to Jefferson Davis. To have that notoriety taken away, or even besmirched—they’d become the laughingstock of Charleston.” She leaned against a wall and crossed her legs at the ankles, still pondering.

“Now for me, that alone wouldn’t be a motive for murder. On the other hand, I’ve seen enough over the years to know a murderous impulse can spring from the tiniest of imagined slights. And like you said earlier, people down here take their family history very seriously. Do you really think it’s enough?”

“Oh, yeah. It all makes sense. Well, sense in a dark, twisted form of the word. Somehow they got wind of the big nasty family secret. Could be an old diary, old letters, who knows?”

She broke in, finishing the scenario building in their minds. “And now they want to make sure it stays a secret. The missing book is the most complete list of everyone who served in the Confederate Army. The name obviously isn’t in there. But can he really think destroying a single copy of one book will eradicate the past?”

Mark lifted one eyebrow, a trick Annabelle desperately wished she could master. “Sugar, look at how hard
we’re
working to find this book. If there were other copies out there to be had, this would be wrapped up by now.”

“Maybe Tad is the one who broke the news. You know, stumbled across the book and then went to have a chat with whoever’s left on the family tree. With his love of all things Civil War, it would’ve given him a thrill to get an insider’s view, so to speak. Our suspect felt threatened, cornered. It became a confrontation, and got out of hand.”

Mark joined her against the wall. “Or they sat down, had a pleasant chat over tea, and Tad went on his merry way. The killer let him leave so nothing suspicious happened on his home turf, and killed him later.”