Seeing Red (40 page)

Instead, he left the room without another word.

Ellis quickly showered and dressed. After putting on her shoes, she ran down the stairs and out to the stables.

Nate was just coming out. “Ready?”

“You can’t drive me.”

There was argument in his eyes as he opened his mouth.

She cut him off sharply. “If you’re locked up while we wait for the evidence to be processed and fall one way or the other, I’ll be totally alone. I need you out here.”

He stood for a moment, as if deciding. Finally, he shoved his hands on his hips and said, “All right. But take Jake with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re as bad as Dad. I don’t need someone with me who is more likely to need my protection than to give it.”

“And how are you going to get there?” he asked.

“Shit.” She’d forgotten her car was at the marina. “I can’t take the Hummer. Jake’s truck?”

“Can’t do without it today.” There was an odd tone to his voice. Before she could push, he said, “I’ll drive you to the marina in Jake’s truck.”

She thought for a moment. “Okay. But come back here. Don’t follow me around like a superhero. I can take care of myself.”

“Okay.”

“Say it.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I mean it. Say it,” she insisted, holding his gaze.

“I promise.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

The marina was always busy on Sunday mornings. There were plenty of people around, which made Ellis safe—and put Nate in jeopardy. She convinced him to drop her off at the parking lot entrance. Nate wore sunglasses and an old cowboy hat. The likelihood of someone recognizing him was slim. Still, she didn’t want to take chances.

Just before she opened the door, Nate grabbed her left hand. “After you’re done at the station, go directly to your parents’ house. Ben will be expecting you.”

“Where are you going?”

“To Charleston to see if this woman Justine Adams can give us any clues. Then I’m going to follow him again. Something’s gotta give. He’s taking too many chances; I want to be there when he screws up. I might not be back tonight.”

She swallowed, her mouth and throat dry. “What if someone recognizes you?”

He squeezed her hand. “Ellis, remember what I told you I do? I’m very good at it. No one will recognize me.”

“Okay.” She leaned across the ragged and ducttaped seat, kissing him quickly on the cheek. “Keep in touch.”

His half-smile made her just a little short of breath. “I will. You too.”

She unlatched the door. When she started to let go of his hand, he held tight.

“Be careful,” he said. “And
stay with your mom and Ben.
” The last words were delivered with a sharp look.

With a nod, she pulled her hand from his, picked up the baggie with the photos, and got out of the truck.

She’d reached her car before Nate pulled away in Mr. J’s old rattletrap truck.

For a moment, she sat there thinking through what she was about to do. Once these photos were out there, there’d be no calling them back. The very thought of other people seeing Laura like that made her sick. She’d spent her life preserving her cousin’s memory; now she was about to destroy it.

Poor Uncle Greg would never get those images out of his mind.

At least they hadn’t gotten word he’d been involved in an auto accident overnight. She called him, hoping he’d answer. He didn’t.

She clung to the idea that Alexander’s words were true. He wasn’t
doing
anything to her uncle.

But had these pictures driven her uncle to do something crazy?

She started her car and plugged her cell phone into the charger. It rang before she set it down. She jumped like a startled animal.

“Hello?”

“This is Jenny Mayfield, at Seaside Apartments. You left a picture with me yesterday.”

“Oh, yes.” Ellis’s heart leapt at the prospect of something more to offer the police.

“Well, I showed it to my older son when he got home. He says he thinks he saw the guy when he came home t’other night.”

“The night of the murder?”

“Yeah. Said it was a blond guy. Looked normal. Wasn’t in a hurry or nothin’. He got in a light blue minivan—one of those like repairmen use, without the windows in the back.”

“Did your son tell the police this?”

“Oh, no. He won’t talk to the police. That’s why I called you. See, my boy, he’s had a little trouble . . . ”

This could be a problem, an unreliable witness—even if she did get him to talk to the police. But she’d cross one bridge at a time. “Did he tell you anything else? What time was it? Did he know the make of the van or remember anything about the plates?” She couldn’t control the anxious rush of questions. This would at least place Alexander at the scene.

“Was about one-thirty, I can tell you that. Tanner wouldn’t have noticed at all if that van hadn’t been parked where he usually parks. Just a minute, I’ll ask him ’bout the other.” It sounded like she took the phone away from her face when she yelled, “Tanner! You remember the plates or anything?”

Ellis sat with her palms sweating as she listened but couldn’t make out the boy’s response.

Jenny came back on. “Didn’t notice the plates. Says he don’t know one minivan from ’nother.”

“Thanks so much. Keep my number in case he remembers something else, or you come across someone else who saw something, will you?”

“Sure. He won’t have to talk to the cops, will he?”

“I don’t know. But he shouldn’t worry. All they’re interested in is catching the man who murdered your neighbor.”

As soon as she ended the call, she dialed Nate’s cell and told him what she’d learned.

He said, “An eyewitness placing him there is good. Maybe not enough, though.”

“We won’t stop here,” she said.

“Ellis, you’re going to the police, then to your mother’s. Sit tight until I contact you. No Nancy Drewing while I’m gone.”

“Okay. Okay.” She disconnected the call.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-NINE

E
llis stared at the envelope on the passenger seat. Goddamn Wayne Carr. It was bad enough seeing Laura with those strangers, but at least most of them appeared to be college age.

If the ones with Laura and Carr together got out, it was going to create much more lasting gossip in Belle Island.

She sat there, contemplating taking those particular shots out. If there was evidence on the photos that could lead to Alexander, it would hardly be limited to those with Carr. What would it hurt?

“No,” she said to herself. Then Carr would be scot-free to seduce another young girl. The filthy bastard deserved the bad press—but did Aunt Jodi and Uncle Greg?

Ellis left the marina. She decided at the very least, her uncle deserved advance warning that these photos were going to the police. His house was in the opposite direction from the police station. Another few minutes’ delay wouldn’t hurt.

When she pulled up in front of his house, the Corvette wasn’t in the drive, but he usually parked it in the garage.

She got out and headed toward the front door.

“He’s not home, honey,” Mrs. White called from next door. She was out watering the flowers on her front porch. “He left here not an hour ago. Tore out like somethin’ was wrong.”

Ellis’s stomach turned. “Which way did he go?”

“North. Out of town. Is everything all right?”

“Yes.” Ellis trotted back to her car, hoping it was the truth.

As she jumped into the driver’s seat, she glanced at the envelope.

If her uncle had sobered up, there was one place north of town he was mostly likely headed.

She hoped she’d get there before he did something that couldn’t be undone.

Nate did a little canvassing of Justine Adams’s neighbors, in the guise of doing a survey for a fictitious local philanthropic group interested in establishing services for citizens with disabilities.

In this churchgoing town, very few doors were answered this early on a Sunday. Nate got lucky two doors down. It was occupied by a man and his life partner, whom Nate met as the man passed through the front hall.

After a few preliminary questions, the man at the door started talking without prompts.

“It’s not like we haven’t offered to help her. God only knows, both Miles and I have bent over backward since we moved in.”

“How long ago was that?” Nate asked.

“It’ll be a year in September. Like I was saying, she just doesn’t seem to want to mix with people. Barely sticks her nose out the front door. Miles does occasional errands for her, especially if the weather’s bad. But he called her last week, like he does every Monday, and she said she wouldn’t be needing our help anymore—just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “She has a friend who is taking care of
everything
now.”

“Did she mention who this friend was?”

“No. But I have to tell you”—he looked over his shoulder, as if making certain Miles wasn’t within earshot—“she really hurt poor Miles’s feelings. She was very abrupt.”

Nate thanked the man and left. He wondered if Justine Adams’s friend was Hollis Alexander. What was his angle? And how had he insinuated himself into a recluse’s life? Seemed impossible that he could have done it so quickly, considering how guarded the woman was with her neighbors.

As was common around Charleston, there was a narrow alley that ran down one side of the Adams’s property. It led to two additional residences. One appeared to have originally been a carriage house for the house on the opposite side of the alley. The other was clearly a separate property, situated directly behind the Adams’s residence.

Nate walked down the alley, which had a name all its own, even though it dead-ended immediately after the two houses.

No one answered at the carriage house.

At the house behind Ms. Adams’s, a very tiny woman with a puff of white hair answered the door. “Are you here to fix the water heater?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well! I stayed home from Sunday service. They said they’d be here by nine.”

Nate made a sympathetic noise, and then quickly launched into his survey tale.

The little woman shook her head. “Such a shame. That family’s had more than their share of misery. Stanley and I moved in here when Justine and her brother were just youngsters.” Her gaze drifted, as if looking into the past, her voice growing reminiscent. “You know, her brother drowned when he was eleven; Justine was never right after that. She was there, you know, saw the whole thing.” She blinked and seemed to come back to the present. “Then right after her mother died, she had that awful accident that left her crippled.”

“After talking to some other neighbors, it seems she keeps to herself,” Nate said.

“She never did let my Stanley do a thing for her. Like I said, she’s been a bit queer since her brother died. She’s got no one, you know. Arranged for the construction company to fix up the house for her wheelchair all by herself.” Then she paused, as if remembering something. “There was one of the young carpenters—a lovely Christian boy, so nice-looking—who did lots of things for her at first. Wonder whatever happened to him?”

Nate had a pretty damn good idea. “Do you recall his name?”

She pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Howard? No, that’s not it.” She looked at the floor and made
h
sounds. “Harvie . . . Hal . . . Oh, dear heavens, I don’t know. But it did start with an
H;
I’m almost certain.”

“Have you seen him around lately? Or anyone new, for that matter?”

“Well, I don’t get out much now. My Stanley died last year and my eyes . . . can’t drive myself, you know. And with the way Justine’s let everything get so overgrown, I can barely see her house at all anymore. Just a shame; her father used to keep that hedge shaped as square as a brick wall.”

The woman continued on while Nate shifted his feet, anxious to go. Finally, she paused, giving him the opportunity to thank her and leave.

Nate lingered in the alley, halfway to the street. If Alexander had been that “lovely Christian boy,” then Justine’s basement could very well be where he kept all of his incriminating evidence.

The police would need probable cause to get a warrant to search Justine Adams’s place.

Nate had to get inside that basement.

Ellis drove down Bastine Road, which snaked along the river, hindering her speed. She assured herself that if Carr was home, most likely his wife would be too. Surely her uncle wouldn’t do anything violent in front of her.

Slowing slightly, Ellis dialed his cell again.

No answer.

About eight miles out of town, she took a right that led down the two-mile lane to the old house. Wayne Carr, parasite that he was, lived on land that had been in his wife’s family since the heyday of the rice planters—very old Carolina money.

What would Ellis do if her uncle wasn’t there?