Dark Hearts (17 page)

He walked with her into the living room, and then settled her on the sofa. He handed her the remote and propped her foot up with a pillow, then left her with a last kiss.”

“I'll be back with lunch at noon,” he said. “And if I'm going to be late, I'll call. I'm really anxious to check on Trina and see if she's showing any signs of regaining consciousness.”

“Let me know.”

“I will. Love you, Lainey.”

She smiled. “Love you, too.”

He locked the door behind him as he left.

* * *

Marcus Silver was drinking whiskey before breakfast.

Will Porter was at his wife's side, watching her take her last breaths.

Greg Standish was debating the wisdom of going to church. He guessed Gloria had told her friends that she was leaving him before she left town, but he was pretty sure she hadn't said why, because that would have made her look bad. The fact that she'd taken their daughter out of school so suddenly had left him looking like the bad guy. He was frustrated by the gossip he knew had to be circulating but was determined to hold his head up and go on about his business. He'd given up too much to quit now, and he needed to maintain propriety in order to keep his job. And because he was in too deep to crawl into a hole and hide, he made himself get dressed. Church was the perfect place for a man to relieve himself of his burdens, and the Good Lord knew he had plenty to shed.

* * *

Beth Powell felt as if she'd aged ten years overnight. The grief of learning her only grandson was dead had nearly killed her. If it hadn't been for staying strong for her son and daughter-in-law, she didn't know what she would have done.

Randy was distraught to the point of having to be medicated.

Clarice had cried for hours, and when she stopped, she also stopped talking. Now she just walked around like a zombie.

Beth didn't know what was going to happen to her family in the coming months, but today they had to go to the funeral home and pick out a casket for Jack, and she was the only one composed enough to be behind the wheel.

She left her house with a heavy heart and picked them up just after 10:00 a.m., and they drove all the way into town without a single word passing between them.

They arrived at the funeral home without incident, but as soon as they walked into the lobby, Clarice moaned and then sank to the floor on her knees. It took both Beth and Randy to get her on her feet and seated on a sofa. Randy looked at his mother with tears running down his face, and she could do nothing to help but hug him.

Ted Martin, the funeral director, appeared within seconds and knew it was going to be a difficult visit. The circumstances of the boy's death were horrific, the tragedy made worse because he'd been an only child. And since it was obviously going to be a closed-casket ceremony, he couldn't even use his skills to make the deceased look at peace, which might help to soothe his grieving family. He needed to pull out all the stops this morning to get through this.

“Mr. and Mrs. Powell, my deepest sympathies. Beth, I am so sorry for your loss. How can I help you?” he asked.

“We don't know where to begin,” Beth said.

“Then, I would suggest we begin with choosing a casket. We have a large number from which to choose, and of course can order any color you want if we don't have it in stock. Would you follow me?”

Randy helped Clarice up, and then walked with his arm around her waist in case he needed to catch her. Beth walked beside her son, because his expression was breaking her heart.

When they entered the display room, Beth was struck with such a strong sensation of déjà vu that she stumbled. She'd been here before when she'd buried her husband, Tom. She'd never thought of having to help bury a grandchild.

Randy choked on a sob when he saw all the caskets, and Clarice's eyes went blank. Beth sighed. At least Clarice had removed herself from the equation. It would be up to herself and Randy to get this done.

“Do you know if you would prefer a wood tone, a marble effect or maybe something like this?” Ted asked, pointing to a metallic gold-and-black casket.

“I don't know,” Randy mumbled, then wiped his eyes and blew his nose with a handkerchief. “Mom, what do you think?”

“I think since Jack loved to hunt and fish so much, something in a wood-grain finish would fit. Clarice, honey, what do you think?” Beth asked.

Clarice blinked.

Randy hugged her and turned to Ted. “Sorry. I don't think Clarice is up to this, so Mom and I will choose.”

Ted nodded and took them through the display room. They finally chose a dark oak with a plain white interior.

“So it won't clash with the color of his suit,” Beth said.

Then Randy insisted on a vault, so they chose that, as well. When they adjourned to the front office to do the paperwork and choose a date for the service, Beth sat down with great relief. Her heart was pounding, and her legs were shaking so hard she could barely stand. Randy's face was too red, and she feared his blood pressure was too high, while Clarice was too pale. Beth wondered if she would ever come back to them.

Ted had the contract finished in no time, and Randy was busy writing out a check for the service costs when two other employees walked through the lobby just outside Ted's office. The door was open, and even though the women were speaking in undertones, their voices carried.

“Did you hear about the authorities finding that body out at the old Colquitt Mine?”

“Yes! Isn't that something? Supposed to be some kid from the 1980 graduating class.”

“How do you suppose they'll prove that? I mean, there's nothing there but bones.”

“Oh, the identification and everything was there, didn't you hear? A suitcase. A bus ticket to California. Even a wallet with a bunch of money still in it.”

The room tilted in front of Beth's gaze. She moaned, and then reached out for the corner of the desk to keep from falling out of her chair.

Randy caught her. “Mom. Mom! Are you all right?”

She wiped a shaky hand across her face. “I'm fine. Are we nearly done here?”

Ted Martin gave a receipt and copies of the paperwork to Randy, and then told them he would let them know when he was ready to open the viewing room for visiting hours.

“No viewing,” Randy said.

Ted nodded. “Yes, of course. What I mean is that I will have your son in the casket. It will be locked and then brought to a viewing room where you can receive your family and friends.”

Randy sighed. “Oh. Right.”

Beth was shaking. The men's voices were just a roar in her ears. She couldn't have repeated a word of what they were saying to save her soul.

“Okay, then. We'll wait for your phone call,” Randy said as he stood up.

Ted nodded. “Since you still have to consult with your pastor, if you need to change the date or time for any reason, all you have to do is call.”

Randy nodded again, and then helped his wife up and out of the room, while Beth brought up the rear. They got in the car and then sat without talking.

Beth was operating on autopilot. “We need to do flowers,” she said.

Randy shuddered. “Will you just take us home, Mom? Clarice can't do that, and I don't know how.”

“I'll come back and order the flowers if you'll call your pastor from home,” she said.

“Yes, I will. Thank you. Thank you so much, Mom. I couldn't have done any of this without you.”

Beth's vision blurred. “You are my heart, and it's breaking for you right now. I am so sorry for you and Clarice. So sorry. Life can hit us with some really ugly blows, and this is one of those times.”

Randy leaned against the backseat, put his arm around Clarice and closed his eyes.

Beth drove them home without talking.

When she reached their farm, she got out and hugged them both, then turned around and drove back into Mystic, but it wasn't just to order flowers. She needed to talk to Chief Jakes. She needed to know if what she'd heard those women saying was true, and if it was, she was about to mess up someone's life in a very big way.

Sixteen

B
eth ordered a blanket of white roses for the casket and a matching spray from herself. She wrote her check in a fog, listened to condolences with a deaf ear and walked out of the florist while the man was still talking to her.

She felt as if she was going to throw up, but the rage in her was strong enough to keep her moving. She drove straight to the police precinct and walked in with one thought on her mind.

“I need to speak to Chief Jakes,” she said.

“He's not in right now but he's on his way,” Avery said.

“I'll wait,” Beth said and sat down in a straight-back chair at the front.

She took a deep breath, trying to slow down her heart rate, but it didn't work. God, she hoped she got this said before she dropped dead.

Five minutes passed.

“Do you think it will be much longer?” she asked.

Avery Jones was the day dispatcher and also served as a desk clerk. He could tell by the way Beth Powell was sitting that she was upset.

“No, ma'am, I don't. I'm surprised he's not already here. Chief Jakes is—”

There was noise in the back of the building, and Avery grinned.

“That's the chief coming in now. I'll let him know you're here,” he said, picking up the phone.

Beth took a tissue out of her purse, and wiped her eyes and blew her nose as Avery was speaking to the chief, and when he hung up she stood.

Trey hurried down the hall, and when he saw her through the doorway he could tell something was very wrong. “Mrs. Powell?”

“I need to talk to you,” she said.

“Certainly. Let's go to my office,” he said and took her elbow and led her back down the hall.

As soon as Beth saw the man sitting in the office, she recognized him as the eldest of Betsy Jakes' children.

Sam also knew who she was and began gathering up his things.

“Mrs. Powell, I'm so sorry for your loss. Just give me a second to get my stuff, and I'll give you two some privacy.”

“No, stay. This has to do with you as much as it does with Chief Jakes.”

Sam leaned against a wall with his arms folded across his chest, leaving the chair for her.

Beth sat down, but she was on the edge of the seat, looking as if she was about to eject herself from the chair.

“How can I help you, Mrs. Powell?” Trey asked.

“I need you to answer me one question, and it's really important that you tell me what you know.”

“I'm listening,” Trey said.

“Whose body did you find in the Colquitt Mine?”

“Well, the coroner hasn't given me a—”

“No!” she shouted, and then shuddered. “I'm sorry, but don't hedge. I heard you found identification with the body. Did you?”

Trey glanced at Sam, who nodded.

“Yes, we did,” Trey said.

“Who?”

Trey sighed. “There was a wallet with the body. The driver's license had Donny Collins' name on it.”

Beth screamed, then moaned and doubled over in the chair, covering her face.

Trey jumped up, but Sam was quicker and knelt down beside her, worried she was going to faint and fall out of the chair.

“What is it, Mrs. Powell? What do you know?” Sam asked.

Beth couldn't stop sobbing. “I thought he dumped me. I thought he was too chicken to tell me, so he strung me along till he left, then forgot all about me.”

Sam's heart skipped a beat. This was it. This was the break they'd been waiting for.

“So Donny was your boyfriend in high school?”

“Yes. I loved him so much. I was two months' pregnant when he graduated. He was planning to go to college with the scholarship money he was certain he expected to receive, but then he didn't get it. Plan B was to go to California to find a job and a place to live, and then he was going to send for me.”

Trey's eyes widened. “And when you didn't hear from him?” he asked.

“I thought he blew me off. I thought he skipped out on me and our baby.”

Sam pulled up a chair beside her, and then reached for her hands. “Mrs. Powell... Beth, look at me.”

She lifted her head.

“What do you know about the cheating?” he asked.

She began to sob all over again. “I was the one who got the answers and five hundred dollars for my trouble. I didn't know it would end up cheating Donny out of the scholarship. I didn't know. I just needed to get money for us to leave.”

The moment Sam and Trey heard that, they knew why Donny's wallet had held five hundred dollars, and they knew who the cheater had to be—Marcus Silver, the only other contender for the scholarship, but they needed her to say it. Sam squeezed her hands gently, trying to tug her back to the moment. “Who asked you for help in cheating?”

“Marcus Silver.”

“Did Donny know?”

“No. I didn't know until Marcus was awarded the scholarship the night of graduation. I was too scared to tell Donny what I'd done, but I think someone told Donny that Marcus had cheated. Probably other kids saw him doing it, you know? I think now that he and Donny must have argued after graduation. I didn't see it happen, but if anyone had a reason to keep Donny quiet, it would have been him. His father was a tyrant, and we all knew it. He had to be perfect all the time or he was in trouble. It wasn't winning the money but being valedictorian that mattered. If he didn't get it, his father would probably have beaten Marcus to within an inch of his life for disappointing him.”

“Will you testify to this in a court of law?” Trey asked.

“Yes,” she said.

But there was one thing still left unspoken, and Sam wanted to know the answer. “What happened to the baby?” he asked.

Beth blinked as if surprised that he'd asked something she assumed was obvious.

“I gave birth to him on my own. I didn't marry Tom Powell until Randy was about six months old. Tom adopted him, but Randy is Donny's son, and Jack was his grandson.”

“Wow,” Trey said softly.

Sam got a box of tissues from Trey's desk and handed them to Beth. She pulled out a handful and wiped her face.

“I guess that's all I have to say,” she said.

Trey hesitated. “Out of curiosity, how did you access the answers to the exam?”

Beth sighed. “I was a teacher's aide to Mrs. Henry, who was the physics teacher.”

“Okay, then. I want to thank you for coming forward.”

“Am I in trouble?” she asked.

“No,” Trey said.

“Are you going to be all right to drive yourself home?” Sam asked.

She clutched her purse against her breasts. “I endured being an unwed mother when it was considered an unforgivable fall from grace. I feel like I have been given a blessing just knowing Donny did love me. That he didn't abandon me after all.”

“You do know this is all going to come out eventually?” Sam asked.

“I know.”

“I don't know what Randy knows about all this, and he's going through a lot of hell right now on his own, but it would be best if he heard it from you first.”

She nodded.

“He knew Tom wasn't his birth father, but that was all. I didn't want him to grow up thinking he wasn't worth loving, that his father abandoned the both of us, which is what I thought all along. We'll figure it out. I'm just devastated about Donny. He might have been dead for the past thirty-six years, but in my heart he just died today.”

Then she started crying all over again, but it was a quiet, broken kind of weeping that spoke to the burden of the blow.

“I need to call Sheriff Osmond,” Trey said.

“I'll walk Beth out,” Sam said, then helped her up and walked her out of the precinct.

“Are you sure you're okay to drive home?” he asked when they got outside. “It wouldn't take me long to drive you. I could get Trey to follow and bring me back.”

Beth paused at her car, and then impulsively hugged him.

“I promise I'm okay. My son needs me, and I need to see a killer brought to justice. Are you going to talk to Marcus Silver?”

“Yes, ma'am. You can count on that.”

“Is he going to be arrested?”

“I can't speak for the sheriff or for the chief, but it is my professional opinion as a private investigator that Marcus Silver is in a whole lot of trouble.”

Satisfied with that answer, she nodded, then got in her car and drove away.

Sam ran back to his brother's office.

Trey was just getting off the phone.

They stood there for a few moments just staring at each other, then Trey high-fived his brother. “I knew something would break on this case.”

“What did Sheriff Osmond say?” Sam asked.

“He's pretty pumped about the information. I told him we were going to bring Silver into the precinct for questioning. He wants to be here. I told him we'd be happy to set Silver's ass in an interrogation room until he can get here. He said he'd be here in less than two hours.”

Sam glanced at the time. It was almost eleven.

“Then, we need to go get Silver, and I need to call Lainey and tell her I'm not going to make it home at noon.”

Trey nodded. “You ride with me.”

“Happy to oblige,” Sam said.

* * *

Lainey was in the bathroom when her phone rang. By the time she got back to answer it Sam had sent a text. She read it with growing shock.

Break in the case. Can't come home at noon. Going to bring Marcus Silver in for questioning. Please keep that to yourself. Trina is being moved out of ICU sometime today, although she has yet to wake up. Love you most. See you later. Call if you need me.

Marcus Silver? Was he the one responsible for the body in the mine? Did that mean he'd also killed Betsy and all the others?

Lainey sent a text back to Sam.

Best news ever about a break in the case. Justice for the murders and Trina will be safe. I'm fine. Do your thing. I love you.

* * *

Trey and Sam drove back through the gates at the Silver estate in a much different frame of mind. Trey cautioned Sam all the way there about not losing his cool. They needed Marcus to admit to the cheating, because the physical evidence they had on him added up to zero. All they had right now were Beth Powell's statement and the assumptions they'd drawn regarding it. They still didn't know for sure why he had panicked and murdered three of his classmates after all these years—though they had a pretty good guess—but they were going to find out.

It was starting to sprinkle when they got out of the car. Sam glanced up at the sky and frowned. Another cold, wet day. He was missing the milder weather of Atlanta and guessed Lainey would appreciate it once she moved there.

They knocked.

A maid answered.

“We need to speak with Marcus Silver,” Trey said.

“Just a moment and I'll see if he's receiving visitors,” she said.

Trey stopped her. “No, ma'am, we're not visiting. We're here on an official capacity. Either he comes to us or we go to him.”

Her only reaction was a tightening of her lips as she brought them into the foyer, and then scurried off.

They heard some thumping and a loud voice from upstairs, and then the maid came back on the run.

“Mr. Silver asks you to come up. He's in bed.”

“Fine with me,” Sam said.

Trey and Sam followed the maid up the stairs, then into the bedroom. It was immediately obvious that Marcus wasn't ill. He was sitting on the side of the bed in his pajamas and bathrobe, seriously drunk.

“What the fuck do you want?” Marcus asked.

“We need you to get dressed and come down to the station with us to answer some questions.”

The shock on Marcus's face was clear as he jumped up and walked away, mumbling about disrespect.

Sam took hold of the man's arm and turned him around to face them.

“Did you hear my brother ask you to get dressed?” he said softly.

Marcus began to bluster. “I don't have to—”

Sam yanked his arm just enough to unsettle his stance. Marcus staggered and would have fallen but for the firm grip Sam had on him.

“Yes, you do have to,” Sam said. “Do you want me to yank those pajamas off your ass for you, or are you going to do it?”

Marcus began to realize they were serious. “I wanna call my lawyer,” he said.

“You haven't been charged with anything,” Trey said. “Did you expect to be? Is that why you're drunk...because you knew you were going to jail?”

“I didn't do anything,” Marcus mumbled.

“Then, come down to the precinct so we can clear this up,” Trey said.

Marcus thought about it, but he thought too long.

“Forget about his clothes, Trey. Just get a coat and we'll take him down in pajamas. That will look good in the morning paper.”

Marcus's bravado died where he stood. Appearance was everything, and he couldn't let himself be humiliated that way.

“I'm changing,” he said and stumbled into his walk-in closet.

Sam followed.

“I don't need an audience,” Marcus said.

“You have one anyway,” Sam said. “Hurry up.”

Marcus stumbled all over the closet before he got himself decent, and when they started down the hall he was barely able to pick up his feet.

The sprinkles of rain had turned into a steady drizzle. Trey put Marcus in the backseat, and Sam slid in beside him. Despite the chilly weather, Marcus was sweating profusely and eyeing Sam with growing horror.

“I don't understand what this is all about,” he said.

“Sure you do,” Sam said.

Marcus wiped a shaky hand across his face and didn't utter another word.

They took him in through the front door because Trey wanted the man to be seen and to worry about being seen. They needed him as unsettled as possible, and they needed him sober. They didn't want a lawyer to come back on them later and accuse them of leading an inebriated man to confess to something he hadn't done. The wait for Sheriff Osmond should take care of that very conveniently.