Dying to Tell (23 page)

Sadie nodded, then held her breath as he left the room, his gun drawn.

Who had killed the doctor? And why?

The timing of their visit disturbed her even more. Had Dr. Coker called and warned Sanderson they were coming? No...he hadn’t been coherent enough to do that.

The threat she’d received echoed in her head.

Could his death have something to do with them nosing into the past?

Jake’s footsteps pounded above, on the second floor, then down the steps, and he met her at the edge of the office door. “It’s all clear. I’m going to call a crime unit from the county to process the scene. But you really need to stay clear, Sadie. Your sister’s arrest makes you being here a conflict of interest.”

“Jake,” Sadie said, her voice cracking, “do you think he was killed because we’ve been asking questions?”

“I don’t know. It looks like a home invasion, but like I said earlier, too many coincidences arouse suspicions.” He made a phone call, explained what they’d found, and said he’d secure the crime scene and wait until the forensics unit arrived.

He hurried to his car and returned with his crime kit, then pulled on latex gloves and began to rifle through Sanderson’s desk drawers.

“What are you looking for?” Sadie asked.

“Anything related to the research and the sanitarium.”

“Can I help?”

Jake shook his head. “I can’t let you do that, Sadie. We don’t want to compromise the investigation.”

Sadie frowned but agreed and watched him work. All of the rooms looked as if they’d been combed through.

Jake checked the counter by the phone, the kitchen cabinet drawers, then the small desk in the corner. All he found though, were advertisements and assorted mail—oddly, no phone bill.

When the kitchen turned up nothing, he searched the end tables in the den, and noticed a pad on the table, which was blank. Then he returned to Sanderson’s office and rummaged through his file cabinet. Seconds later, he slammed it shut with a bang.

“The only thing I see are housing expenses and personal financial records. Nothing about the clinic or patients.”

A siren wailed in the distance. “How about his computer?”

Jake pivoted and scanned the room, and Sadie did the same. There was no computer in the room. Hmm, surely the man had one.

Had the killer stolen it to sell?

Or had he taken it with him because it held some incriminating evidence?

Jake didn’t like this turn of events. What had started out as a domestic murder had spiked into a major investigation.

Now there were three suspicious deaths—Walt’s, Grace’s, and Sanderson’s.

Five, if you counted Sadie’s parents.

All connected in some way.

He rushed outside and checked Sanderson’s Cadillac for a computer and cell phone, but came up empty. Then he hurried back inside and checked Sanderson’s pocket for the phone. Again, no luck.

“Did you see a cell phone?” he asked.

Sadie shook her head no. “Maybe he didn’t have one,” Sadie said.

“He had one,” Jake said. “Just look at this place. A man with this kind of money has expensive toys.”

A siren wailed as the police and coroner’s vehicles pulled up. Sadie stepped into the foyer, her face haunted, as he greeted the crime unit and coroner.

“I haven’t found a computer or cell phone,” Jake said. “So if you find either of those, send it and his home phone records to my office. I also want to be notified of any forensic information.”

“Certainly, Sheriff,” the crime tech said. “Did you find the murder weapon?”

“No. The killer probably tossed it in the river, but have your guys search the trash and the property just in case.”

The tech nodded, and Jake went back to Sadie. “Come on, I’ll take you home, then follow up with them later.”

Sadie looked exhausted as she sank into the seat.

“Did you make the arrangements for your grandfather?” Jake asked as he drove toward the farm.

A sadness passed over her face. “Yes.”

Jake wanted to reach out and hold her so badly that he held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. “I know it was difficult for you to come back here. That you had your own life.”

Sadie’s troubled gaze met his. “My work has been my life,” she said so quietly that it tore at his heart.

“You...never married?”

Pain slashed across her face, then she turned to look out the window. “No, Jake. Amelia is the only one I have left.”

The realization that Sadie was alone in the world made him ache for her even more.

But he couldn’t let himself want her again. Losing her once was all he could bear.

Sadie’s chest throbbed. She wanted Jake, but there was no way she could reach out and hold him the way she once had.

The way she’d yearned to do for years.

It was hopeless for her to even dream of a future with him. He had a daughter by a woman he might still love.

And he would never forgive her if he learned the truth about why she’d left Slaughter Creek.

He parked in front of her house, and she grimaced at the thought of going inside alone. No Papaw to wrap her in a hug.

No Ms. Lettie and Amelia to breathe life into the place.

No matter how much trouble Amelia had been, she was still Sadie’s sister. And at one time, when they were little, they’d been so close they could finish each other’s sentences.

“You’re going to the hospital to see Amelia tomorrow?” Jake asked as he cut the engine.

Sadie nodded. “I’ll see if I can access Viola, find out about her and your deputy.” She paused. “And if she had any other lovers Papaw might not have been happy about.”

She started to open the car door, but Jake laid his hand over hers. The moment his fingers touched hers, a warm tingle spread through her, and the temptation to lean into him hit her.

But she couldn’t do that. She had to stand on her own.

So she reached for the door instead.

“Call me if you need anything,” Jake said.

She needed
him
.

But that could never be.

So she dragged herself from the car, tugged her coat around herself, and hurried inside. Maybe she’d find more answers in Amelia’s letters.

But when she went to the desk to retrieve the keepsake box, it was gone.

Jake’s chest constricted as he watched Sadie disappear inside the house.

She’d had a rough couple of days, and that big farmhouse had to be lonely tonight. The urge to follow her and make sure she was okay made him hesitate before he pulled out of the drive.

But what would happen if he did?

Would she fall into his arms? Let him hold her?

Walk away when the funeral was over and Amelia had settled down?

Dammit, she looked so small and vulnerable and...sad.

He checked his watch. Eleven thirty. Ayla would be in bed, sound asleep, and so would Gigi.

He might as well stop by the Tavern, where Mike had met Viola, and see what he could learn. Rain began to drizzle down, turning to sleet pelting his windshield. He flipped on the defroster and wipers, driving slowly through town to the bar.

Grateful he’d changed from his uniform, he secured his weapon inside his jacket, then strode inside.

Country music blared through the speakers; a group of people were line dancing, while others lounged at tables over beer and drinks.

A young bartender with a sleeve of tattoos and a name tag reading “Beau” slapped a napkin down in front of him as he approached. “What will you have?”

“Whatever you have on tap,” Jake said.

The bartender filled a mug, then handed it to him. Jake took a sip, slid onto the bar stool, then removed the photograph from his jacket. “Listen, man, have you seen this woman?”

The potbellied guy next to him slid off his seat and lumbered toward the restroom.

Beau glanced at the picture. “What are you, a cop?”

Jake gave a clipped nod. “Sheriff.”

The bartender’s eyes darted around as if he was nervous.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to bust anyone,” Jake said. “I just need some information.” He gestured toward the photo again. “Do you know her?”

Beau thumped the edge of the bar in tune with the music. “Yeah, I’ve seen her a few times. Why? Something happen to her?”

Jake maintained a calm facade. “Actually, she was arrested for allegedly shooting her grandfather.”

“Man, oh, man,” the bartender said with a whistle. “I saw that in the paper. Didn’t know it was the same chick though. She looked...different.”

“How so?” Jake asked.

“When she came in, she was all dressed up, you know, sexy like. Wore miniskirts, halter tops, a real flirt with all the men.”

“You hook up with her?” Jake asked.

Beau averted his eyes. “Naw, I got a steady.”

Jake sipped his beer as he considered his approach. “She met up with a man named Mike Waterstone a couple of times.” He didn’t add that the son of a bitch was his deputy.

“Yeah, she left with Mike once or twice. But he wasn’t the only one.”

Another customer leaned over the bar. “Can I get a refill, buddy?”

“Sure.” The bartender poured him a whiskey, then glanced across the room. “Like I said, she was friendly.”

“Who else did she leave with?” Jake pressed.

Beau gestured toward a cowboy in the corner with a blonde draped across his lap. “Wade.”

“Thanks.” Jake tossed down enough bills to pay the tab along with a hefty tip, then laid his card on top. “If you think of anything else, give me a call.”

Then he strode over to the cowboy and stopped by his table. “Name’s Sheriff Blackwood. I need to talk to you.”

Wade’s mouth twisted sideways, then he patted the woman’s butt. “Sugar, go powder that nose and give us a minute.”

She planted a sloppy kiss on his face, then sashayed toward the ladies’ room.

“What’s going on, Sheriff?”

Jake showed him the photo. “You know this woman?”

Wade grimaced. “Yeah, that bitch is nuts. She came on to me, then when we went in the back room, she started crying and talking like she was a little girl. I mean, baby talk. It freaked me out.”

So Viola had picked up the man, then Bessie’s personality had emerged. “She has a mental disorder,” Jake explained. “You didn’t know that?”

“Hell, no. Not at first, anyway. She was all over me, whispering dirty words and shit. But when she started that kid talk, I lost it. I mean, I’m not into kinky stuff.” He narrowed his eyes as if he suddenly realized he might have said too much. “Why? She say different?”

Jake crossed his arms and gave him a deadly stare. “Would she have?”

“I don’t know, she was crazy.” Wade looked defensive. “Thought she might be one of those nut jobs that play up to a man, then cry rape to get attention.”

Jake contemplated his suggestion. What if Amelia or Bessie had told her grandfather that some man had tried to hurt her? He might have confronted the man, and they could have fought...

Although Walt knew Amelia was ill, and probably wouldn’t have believed her. Unless he’d caught the man with her at the house.

Then Walt might have done something. And if he confronted the man, things could have spiraled out of control...

He rubbed his chin. But he had no proof that anyone else had been there.