Hush (9 page)

Hurt welled in her eyes. Instantly he regretted his sarcasm. Beneath her cheerful facade, Anna was terrified, and with good reason. Her sister was missing. Mere hours ago a gunman had ambushed them. And now, while Anna was busy keeping a stiff upper lip and trying to make the best of dire circumstances, he was busy acting like a jackass because she didn’t kiss him good morning. It was time for him to get his head on straight and be the man she needed him to be.

“Hang on a minute.” He hurried to the bedroom and back, then laid his pistol on the table next to the murder board. “You know anything about guns?”

“A little. Daddy used to keep them. He took me target shooting a few times.”

“So maybe you can show me how to work a murder board, and I’ll refresh your memory on how to work a firearm. Okay?”

“Okay.” She used the back of her hand to wipe a dab of moisture from her cheek.

After removing the clip and making sure there was no bullet in the chamber, he handed her his empty gun. “This is a semiautomatic pistol, an HK 45. This is the compact model, so you should be able to handle it. Ten bullets in the magazine.”

She held out her hand.

“Careful.” He placed the clip in her palm.

With the gun pointed safely away, she snapped the magazine in place.

“That’s good,” he said, impressed by the no-nonsense way she handled the weapon.

Beaming under his approval, she said, “I remembered how to load a pistol.”

“Here.” He put his hands over hers and showed her what to do next. “Now you’re cocked and locked. All you have to do is flip the safety off and you’re ready to roll.”

She set the gun back on the table and pulled a red pen from the jelly jar. “My turn. Let’s make a timeline. We’ll add anything that comes to mind, whether we think it’s important or not.” Then she wrote:
Sunday afternoon—Simone and Bobby go missing
.

That didn’t seem quite right. “I think we should start the timeline earlier. After all, something important must’ve happened beforehand, leading up to Simone’s disappearance,” he said.

“You’re right. Let’s go back at least to Saturday night and your welcome home dinner. We can backtrack further if we think of something.” Glancing up, Anna caught him staring. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

“I was just thinking how pretty you look when you catch your bottom lip between your teeth like that.”

Sweet Jesus, Charlie.
Never say anything like that out loud again.

Her face lifted in a full-on smile.

Maybe just once more
…

But it was too late.

She was all business again. “What do you remember happening at the dinner party?”

Wanting to keep the mood light as well as do justice to his own role in this simulated Castle-Beckett crime-fighting exercise, he conjured an answer by rubbing his forehead. “Nate and Simone were happy as clams. He gave her an emerald necklace, and then that picture of Catherine Timmons came on the news.”

He leaned his elbows on the table. This murder board thing might actually work. “Write that down. Catherine Timmons was found dead. Gunshot wound to the head…just like Megan.”

Anna got it all down, and then her hand flew to her mouth. “I completely forgot about the letter.” She added the word LETTER in all caps. “I didn’t think much of it at the time, but Simone was worried. The letter was addressed to Nate in a woman’s handwriting.”

“What woman?”

Anna shook her head. “I don’t know. I practically ordered Simone not to open the envelope. I told her to give it to Nate.” She looked up, wide-eyed. “I wish to God I’d opened that letter with her.”

As well as he understood Anna’s regret, he didn’t indulge it. He’d learned the hard way not to dwell on past mistakes. If you do, you’ll only lose today’s chance.

He picked up a pen of his own, a green one, and started making notes on the board, scribbling and thinking aloud. “Sunday morning Simone went to the library, withdrew money from the bank.” His chin started to itch. “After the bank, Simone took Bobby to her in-laws’ house. No one has seen her since.”

He scratched his chin, then wrote:
Simone lied
.

“Yes. She lied about changing Bobby’s diaper.”

He hadn’t expected Anna to handle this so well. Instead of rushing to Simone’s defense, she’d considered the facts objectively.

“Simone forgot to change Bobby’s diaper. Or maybe she didn’t plan to change his diaper at all,” she added.

Simone, by all accounts, was hypersensitive to her baby’s needs. “I don’t get it.”

Anna tilted her head. “Me either. So that means it must be important—because it’s so out of character.”

He tended to agree, although he had no idea how Simone’s strange visit to Lila and Caleb Carlisle’s home fit into the puzzle. He fell silent and began pacing the kitchen.

While he paced, Anna turned back to the newspaper clippings, flipping them facedown as she finished each story. Soon, the light in the kitchen grew bright. So bright that something he hadn’t seen before, not last night, not earlier this morning, caught his eye. “Anna…”

Intent on studying her stories, she didn’t answer.

This cabin had supposedly been empty for years. He tried again. “Anna, did you put a piece of paper in the trash can?”

She waved him off. “I haven’t got any paper—not except the clippings, I mean.”

Someone else—
Simone
maybe, had been here before them. He grabbed the wadded-up paper from the trash and went to Anna’s side.

At the table, Anna skimmed her finger over yet another headline, and suddenly the color drained from her face. “This is it!”

Her hand trembled as she spread the newspaper article in the center of the murder board.

Remembering Megan O’Neal.

It wasn’t so much the title as the
author
that caused Charlie to take a stunned step backward.

By
Nathan Carlisle
.

Charlie’s temples throbbed unpleasantly. A dull ache spread across his forehead. And no matter how hard he blinked, the name on the byline stared menacingly back at him, unchanged.

Nathan Carlisle
.

Charlie pounded a fist on his thigh. “Nate wrote a tribute piece to Megan.”

“The story was so heartfelt, I remember thinking Nate should try his hand at journalism.” Anna looked up, troubled. “Of course he never did.”

Charlie’s hands clenched into fists. In his mind, he could hear the puzzle pieces clicking ominously into place. It wasn’t easy to keep his voice steady, but for Anna’s sake he tried. “It was
Nate
. Nate was the man Megan was seeing while I was away.”

He dreaded opening the paper he’d pulled from the trash. But there was no use putting it off. On a deep sigh, he said, “I think Simone has been here.” He smashed the paper open on the table. “This looks like expensive stationery. It could be the letter that Simone intercepted on Saturday night.”

A flash of hope lit Anna’s eyes. She began reading the short letter aloud. At first, her voice was soft, but it grew stronger and more determined with every word:

I know what you did to Megan. The necklace is the key.

The letter was signed:
C.T.

They scanned the murder board and said in unison. “Catherine Timmons!”

“But what does it mean,
the necklace is the key
?” Anna closed her eyes, concentrating. “Is this about the necklace Nate gave Simone on Saturday night?”

“No.” Charlie knew exactly which necklace was
the key
. He wished like hell he didn’t, but he did. Pointing his finger to the picture of Megan—the one in the newspaper article, he said, “Look.”

In the photo, Megan wore the necklace Charlie had made for her in shop class, all those years ago—an antique-style key on a silver chain. “This is the necklace Catherine Timmons meant. This is
the key
.”

He refrained from calling it the key to his heart.

Only Anna had ever really held that.

“Mrs. O’Neal told me Megan wore that necklace every day. But after she died, it was never recovered,” he explained.

Anna dropped into a chair. Her lips had gone white. “
I know what you did to Megan
.”

He dumped the pens out of the jelly-jar glass, went to the sink and filled the jar with water. “Megan didn’t kill herself—she was murdered, and Catherine Timmons figured it out. Then Catherine Timmons was murdered—because she knew too much.” He handed Anna the glass of water.

“
If
that’s really the letter Simone found, it came in an envelope addressed to Nate. That suggests Nate is the one who killed Megan…and the reporter.” Anna gulped the water. “Only, Nate never got the letter, so how would he know Catherine was on to him?”

“He could’ve found out any number of ways. Timmons must’ve been nosing around for months. Simone must’ve taken Bobby and run because she—”

“No. Simone would never believe Nate murdered those women.” Anna’s voice sounded plaintive. “Do you?”

“I don’t want to believe Nate is capable of murder, no. But I have to admit that I’m glad we didn’t tell him where we were headed.”

Anna held her head up stoically. “Let’s review the facts…or what we suppose to be the facts. Catherine Timmons sent a letter to Nate implying he murdered Megan. Catherine is found dead, and for the sake of this exercise, let’s assume that even though Nate never saw the letter, somehow he knew she was on to him—and murdered her to keep her quiet.”

Anna’s determined calm amazed him. “Okay. That’s reasonable, given the information we have on hand.”

“Of course we’re assuming Simone didn’t take my advice. She read the letter in private, and it frightened her.”

Charlie picked up the thread. “Simone suspected Nate murdered Megan and Catherine Timmons. But like us, she didn’t want to believe it. She remembered the article Nate wrote about Megan. She went to the library looking for it, hoping to find something in it to dispel her suspicions. Instead, she found a gut-wrenching article that sounded like it had been written by Megan’s lover, and a photo of Megan wearing a key-necklace.”

Anna held up her hand. “Even assuming all that, I still don’t believe Simone would be convinced. She wouldn’t take Bobby and run unless she feared for her life. And she wouldn’t believe Nate murdered those women…” Her voice broke. “Not unless…”

Charlie smacked the chair next to him and sent it crashing to the floor. “Simone found the necklace among Nate’s things. Nate must’ve kept it as a trophy. That’s why Simone took Bobby and ran.
Simone found the key
.”

Charlie grabbed his cell and bounded to his feet. “I’m going to drive up the road and try to get signal. We need to update Hawkins.”

Anna shoved her chair back, but didn’t get up. “If Simone and Bobby have been here, they might still be close by. I should stay here, in case they come back.”

Anna was right, and she’d be as safe here as anywhere. He lifted her onto her feet and pulled her into his arms. Her heart beat wildly against his. Not giving her a chance to refuse him, he kissed her hard on the mouth. She kissed him back with such ferocity she nearly bit him, then broke the embrace.

He hurried to the door, halting at the threshold. He didn’t dare look back at her face.

“Anna…” His heart clenched as he ground out the next words. “Keep that pistol cocked and locked.”

A
NNA STOOD IN
the doorway watching Charlie’s Camaro disappear down the gravel road. Her head felt heavy and light at the same time. Other than a single glass of water this morning, she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since Jenny Jacoby had served them tea on Monday evening. Anna went to the sink and filled a cup with water, gulped it down and then did it again. If she didn’t stay hydrated, she was likely to faint, and fainting was not acceptable. Not at a time like this.

With her head starting to clear, she glanced around the kitchen. Now that it was light out, she ought to search the cabin again. If Simone left the letter behind, she might have left other things too. Maybe Anna would find a map, or a receipt for airline tickets, or maybe she’d find…

Nothing.

Her heart kicked up.

Nothing
was exactly what she found when her gaze landed on the hook by the kitchen window. For as long as her family had owned this cabin, a set of keys to the nearest neighbor’s farmhouse had hung on that hook. In case of emergency, her father had a key to the neighbor’s place. It was possible the farmhouse keys had been taken down by the cabin’s new owners…but they didn’t seem to have moved anything else.

She checked her cell.

No service.

No surprise.

How long had Charlie been gone?

She checked her watch.

Minutes.

It could be half an hour, maybe more, before he returned.

Her cheeks flushed hot. Why didn’t she notice the missing keys right away? It seemed so obvious now. The least likely place anyone would expect Simone to hide was the one place Simone hated even more than she hated this cabin.