River's Edge (25 page)

T
he Sunday morning crowd for the Church on the Dock had already assembled as Cade pulled into the small parking lot. He’d thought of missing church again today, since there was still so much pressing business in the investigation, but it was the Lord’s Day and he needed to worship.

He got out of his truck and heard the sound of believers’ voices lifting in song. His spirit quickened, and he felt instant relief and power…a filling up…a drawing in.

He went in and saw that the pews were full. Dock workers and transient sailors sat among the longtime members, offering their sacrifices of praise.

And Vince Barr, the illustrious tabloid reporter and recent television star, was there among them. Cade knew he wasn’t there to worship or seek the Lord. He was, no doubt, looking for more trouble to stir up, more rumors, more yarns to spin on his next television appearance,
things that would keep the national media focused on him and his investigation.

Cade thought of leaving, but he wouldn’t let that guy hinder his worship.

There was an empty seat beside Blair. Her eyes were closed as she sang to the Lord. He didn’t want to disrupt her focus or distract her, so he waited at the back of the room until the song was finished. Then he slipped in beside her.

She smiled up at him, and his heart warmed.

Jonathan led them from the praise chorus into a hymn that filled Cade with comfort and reminded him of the joy of his salvation.

He was glad he had taken the time to come.

He’d half expected Jonathan to mention Tuesday’s election, contend for the vote of the people in that room. But he never brought it up. He had to hand it to him. His friend would campaign outside of these walls, but this hour was only for the Lord.

When the service was over, Cade felt equipped to go back to the investigation.

Blair smiled. “Did you see our
Observer
friend?”

Cade shot him a look. He was already talking to some of the members in the corner. “Yeah, I saw him.”

“At least he came to church.”

“You think he learned anything?” Cade asked without hope.

“Nothing he could use to get on CNN.” She looked back at Cade. “Want to get a bite to eat?”

He shook his head. “Better not. There’s too much going on.”

“Anything you want to share?” She grinned.

He matched it. “Can’t think of anything.”

“How about why Sam Sullivan was taken into the police station last night?”

His smile faded. “Blair, you know we’ve been interviewing everybody.”

“Everybody didn’t feel the need to get a lawyer.”

Cade breathed a laugh. “This town. Nothing is sacred. Give it up, Blair. You know you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Just tell me if the handwriting matched his.”

He leaned down, putting his face close to hers. “If I have something to say about this investigation, I’ll call a press conference—and you’ll get the first question.”

Her grin crept back across her face. “All right, Cade. You win. Guess I’ll go eat at Hanover House and figure it out for myself.”

He watched her leave, then looked back toward the front of the chapel. Jonathan looked tired. Cade waited until Vince had followed some chatty resident out, and most of the congregation had left, then he approached his best friend. “How you doing, man?”

Jonathan sighed. “Okay. How about you?”

“Been kind of busy.”

“Glad you were able to make it today.”

“Me too. Your sermon was inspired, Jonathan. I don’t know how you do it. So how’s the campaigning going?”

Jonathan looked around. A few members still stood across the room, and Morgan was apparently introducing Sheila. “Let’s talk outside.”

“Sure.” Cade followed him out to the boardwalk behind the warehouse, and Jonathan sat down on the bench that looked out over the river. He leaned his elbows on his knees, and his shoulders slumped, like they carried too much weight.

“What’s up, buddy?”

“It’s the election,” Jonathan said. “Cade, I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“For losing.”

Cade grunted. “Jonathan, it’s not Tuesday yet.”

“No, but I can see the writing on the wall.” Jonathan leaned down and picked up a stick from the planks and threw it into the water. “Sam Sullivan’s the favorite. Mr. Cell Phone hero himself. I let you down, man. I’m really sorry.”

“What do you mean, you let me down? Why would you say that?”

“Because if Sullivan wins the election, you’re probably going to lose your job. I hate that for you, Cade. It’s flat-out wrong.”

Cade sat down beside him and looked out over the water. “I haven’t sent out resumés yet, Jonathan. Don’t give up. Things could turn around.”

“That’s easy to say now, but what are you going to do if he wins?”

“Deal with it, I guess.” Cade squinted in the sunlight. “He’s not going to fire me until I solve this crime, but I guess in a way a vote for him is a vote against me. Maybe it is time I moved on, if that’s what the people want.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Cade. A vote for Sam is a vote for cell phones. It’s as simple as that, I think.”

“Hey, it’s not like he’s going to kill the deal for the phones if he loses the election. It’s not one or the other.”

“Yeah, well. I have two more days to get that word out.”

Cade wished he could resolve this case in time for election day. It could only help. He thought about Sam’s duplicity, his deceit, his cruel scheme to hijack the election. All he had to do was drop the secret to one person…

But that wasn’t how he did business.

“I’ll pray for you, buddy,” he said, “if you keep praying for me. It’s all in God’s hands.”

Jonathan couldn’t argue with that.

E
lection day was grueling. Morgan and Jonathan had campaigned all day, standing in the hot sun with signs that made one last plea as voters drove down the road to the polling booths at the church gyms. Blair and Sadie had been manning both voting centers for the newspaper, polling people as they came out.

Blair conveyed to Morgan around midafternoon that the news might not be good. It was way too close and could go either way.

Still, Morgan had a party to throw that night. They’d invited dozens of people who had helped with the campaign to come and wait for the results. Melba Jefferson had done all the cooking, and hors d’oeuvres were passed around the house with abundance. Madelyn Short played piano in the corner, singing patriotic tunes, as if this were a national election. Several children raced through the house, balloons flying behind them. Everyone was in a festive mood.

Everyone except Jonathan.

The polls closed at seven, but the counting wouldn’t be finished for several hours yet. The town’s voting equipment was antiquated, so they had to be hand counted, hanging chads and all. Morgan hoped Jonathan had the chance to replace the equipment before they had to vote again.

She went into the kitchen to check on the food, and saw that Melba and several of the ladies from the church had things under control. She wondered where Sheila had gone with Caleb, so she started up the stairs to look for them.

She saw that the door to Caleb’s room was closed. She leaned against it, listening, but heard nothing. Finally, she turned the knob and pushed it open.

Sheila sat in the rocker, singing softly as she held her sleeping son in her arms.

“Hey,” Sheila whispered. “He was getting sleepy so I brought him up where it’s quiet.”

Morgan gave her a weak smile. “That’s good. He’s had a long day.”

She watched as Sheila got up, laid him carefully in his bed without waking him, and then gently stroked his hair. “He’s so beautiful, isn’t he?”

Morgan got tears in her eyes and nodded. “Yes, he is.” She swallowed hard. “He looks just like you.”

Sheila’s glistening eyes showed her gratitude.

“Well, I’ll go back down.”

Sheila smiled. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Morgan stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her, and leaned back against the wall, the reality of the moment washing over her. This was as it should be—Sheila mothering her child.

It was the best thing for Caleb.

She breathed a silent prayer that God would give her the strength to accept that, and a strange peace fell over her.

In that moment, she vowed to stop thinking of herself. She would decrease so that Sheila could increase.

Wiping the tear that rolled down her face, she forced herself to rejoin the party.

She found Jonathan sitting on the back porch with Cade and Blair.

She tried to look upbeat. “What are you guys doing?”

“Commiserating,” Jonathan said. “Wondering what we’ll do if they fire Cade.”

“They’re not going to fire him, Jonathan,” Morgan said. “Because you’re going to win.”

Jonathan clearly wasn’t holding his breath.

Blair groaned. “It’s insane. It would be absolutely ludicrous if they fired you, Cade. We can’t let this happen.”

“I don’t see what we can do about it,” Cade said. “I’m going to be at the mercy of the mayor, whoever it is.”

They heard the phone ringing inside, and Jonathan started to get up.

Melba burst through the screen door. “It’s the early part of the returns, Jonathan!” She handed the cordless phone to him. The piano stopped playing, the children stopped laughing, and all of the soft conversations ceased.

“Jonathan Cleary.” His voice was tight, nervous.

Morgan said a silent prayer as she waited for the verdict. Suddenly a smile broke across Jonathan’s face. “You’re kidding me! Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Keep us updated.”

He clicked off the phone and looked at the crowd who had suddenly come to bottleneck in the doorway to the porch.

“The votes at the high school have been counted, and I’m a few dozen votes ahead.”

Everybody sent up a cheer, and Morgan threw her arms around Jonathan’s neck. He laughed and swung her around.

“Can you believe it? I thought it was impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible with God,” she said.

He let her go, then looked around at the others. “There’s still several voting centers that haven’t reported yet, so we need to be cautiously optimistic.”

For the first time in over two weeks, a bubble of joy fluttered up inside Morgan, but it was a fragile joy. She prayed it would last.

T
he party atmosphere grew more tense as the night progressed. Each time Lance from the circuit clerk’s office called with an update, that tension was turned up a notch. Sam Sullivan and Jonathan had been running neck and neck for the whole night. Sometimes Jonathan was a few votes ahead, causing a celebration at Hanover House. Then things would turn and Sam would be in the lead. No one could guess who might be the victor.

When Vince Barr showed up at nine-thirty, Morgan graciously let him in. Blair cut across the room and took her aside. “What is wrong with you? Why would you let
him
in here?”

“I can’t tell him to go away. Besides, when you’re in politics, you have to be willing to talk to the media.”

“But he’s here to dig up dirt about the murder. He doesn’t care about our mayoral election!”

Morgan’s gaze drifted across the room to the man who was already engaged in conversation with some of her guests. “Then watch him for me. I’m really busy, Blair. We’re going to hear the returns soon. Maybe he’ll be able to write about a victory celebration.”

Blair said a few words to Vince, then excused herself and went back to Cade, who stood talking to Sheila.

“Did you see who’s here?” she whispered harshly.

Cade glanced across the room at the reporter who seemed to be making his way toward them. “Maybe it’s time for me to leave.”

“You can’t leave before we know the results,” Sheila said. “Maybe somebody needs to get in touch with that fortune-teller. Maybe he could tell us who the winner’s going to be.”

Blair shot the woman a look. All night, she had flicked her hair as she’d followed Cade around like a groupie. Ever since Blair caught her sitting in Carson’s van, she hadn’t trusted her.

“Fortune-teller or not, that Vince guy’s waiting for the returns just like we are,” Blair bit out.

“But didn’t Graham give you the information that helped you find that woman’s body, Cade?”

The familiar way Sheila used Cade’s name made Blair angry. She was being territorial, she knew, but Sheila was a flirt, and she was good at it. Sheila locked her blue eyes into Cade’s with that sultry teasing look that sent Blair over the edge.

Cade was noncommittal. “I can’t really comment on his involvement.”

“Oh, of course you can’t.” Sheila touched his arm and leaned in. “Frankly, that guy’s involvements seem to be all over the place. Some of them even extramarital, if you know what I mean.”

Blair bristled. Was Sheila hinting she’d been involved with him? Would she admit that right here in front of Blair, knowing she would tell Jonathan and Morgan? “No. Why don’t you tell us what you mean?”

Sheila crossed her arms and, with a coy grin, offered a shrug. “I’m just saying…I saw him with a cute little thing who was not his wife. Not unless she’d bleached her hair blonde since the debate that morning.”

Blair looked at Cade. He was interested now, squinting as he stared at Sheila. “Where did you see him, Sheila?”

“I was walking around the island Saturday, trying to vent a little steam, and I was over there by the river. You know, where that woman’s car was found? Sadie had shown it to me, and there were flowers marking the place. Just past that, there he came. The palm reader himself, bopping along the path, coming right toward me.”

Blair felt Cade stiffening. “Where was he coming from?”

“From that house around the bend of the river.”

Melanie Adams’ house? Blair shot an alarmed look at Cade, then turned back to Sheila. “You say there was a blonde there?”

“Yes. He was walking toward me, and all of a sudden this Miss America type calls to him and she comes running and says, ‘You forgot your wallet.’ She kisses him right on the mouth, and then he sees me and disappears back into her house.”

“Melanie Adams.” Cade looked at Blair, a million thoughts running through his eyes.

“You don’t think…”

Sadie called Sheila from across the room, and Sheila hurried away.

Blair watched the dots connecting in Cade’s mind.

“If Carson’s having an affair with Melanie Adams, then we may have an answer about how he got his vision.”

Blair lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you think he just witnessed the murder, or was he actually the one who committed it?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure going to find out.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I’ve got to go, Blair.”

She started walking him to the door, when the telephone rang again.

A hush fell over the room again, and Cade froze, waiting to see what the news was.

Jonathan picked it up. “Jonathan Cleary. Yeah, Lance?”

There was a long pause.

Jonathan swallowed. “So that’s it? The final result?”

Blair’s heart plunged. She knew he’d lost.

He hung up the phone and looked around at the crowd. She felt sorry for him. These things should be handled in private, not with fifty people staring you down.

He set his hands on his hips and drew in a deep breath. “It’s over. Sam won by fifty-two votes.”

Reactions flared up from everyone in the room. Morgan started to cry.

Jonathan put his arm around her. “It’s okay, everybody. Really, I appreciate all the work that you all did and all the confidence you put in me. I especially appreciate those of you who convinced me to run. Maybe God just knew that I’d bitten off more than I could chew, what with running Hanover House, running a tour business, and trying to be the pastor of a growing church. I’m fine, really.”

Cade crossed the room and pulled Jonathan into a hug. “I’m sorry, man.”

“Me too. I tried.”

Cade stepped back as others descended on Jonathan with soft words of encouragement and loving hugs. When he looked back at Blair, he saw that her scars had gone crimson.

“I can’t believe it,” she said under her breath. “I can’t believe that jerk won. What is wrong with the people of this town?”

Cade just shook his head. “The town needs a lot of prayer. And he’ll take office within the week.”

She threw her chin up in defiance. “It’s not over, Cade. I’m going to fight Sam Sullivan tooth and nail. If he thinks he’s going to replace you—”

Cade took her hand. “Leave it alone, Blair. I can fight my own battles.”

“But he’s going to fire you!”

“Until he does, I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it.” He got his cane and headed for the door. “I’ll call you later.”