River's Edge (15 page)

T
he test was the hardest and most important one Sadie had taken all year. She had studied her brains out, and she had a headache and a cramp in her hand from writing the essay questions.

Already half the class had turned their exam papers in. All she had to do was take the test up to her teacher and tenth grade would finally be behind her. Then she could work full-time for Blair for the summer and stop worrying about the stress and dread of being a seventeen-year-old sophomore.

She finally realized she had done her absolute best and couldn’t improve on any of her answers, so she got her books and turned the test in.

“Thank you, Sadie.” Mrs. Whitlow smiled at her. “Have a good summer.”

She walked out into the hall. Lockers were slamming in celebration as students came out of their exams, exhilarated that school was over.

But no one was happier than she. She walked up the corridor, wishing she’d never have to see this place again. She had begged Morgan to let her homeschool next year so she could work more hours for Blair. Neither Morgan nor Jonathan liked the idea.

But she hadn’t given up. If being a seventeen-year-old sophomore was bad, being an eighteen-year-old junior was sure to be worse. She had come to Cape Refuge a sixteen-year-old ninth-grade dropout, running for her life from her mother’s drug-addicted, violent boyfriend. Everyone in the school knew of her checkered past, and her few attempts at fitting in had been disastrous. Her hours at school were among the loneliest of her life.

When she got home, she heard the sounds of Caleb laughing in the kitchen and baby Emory crying upstairs. She loved those sounds. It sounded like a family, a warm contrast to the social chills she got at school.

“I’m home!” she cried out.

“Hey, sweetie.” Morgan came out of the kitchen. She still didn’t look good since her miscarriage—her face was pale, and she’d lost a few pounds. Sadie knew she wasn’t eating or sleeping much. She hoped Morgan was really all right. “How was your exam?”

“Not bad. Now I’m free.” Sadie set her backpack near the bottom of the stairs so she could take it up when she went.

“I have some good news for you.”

Sadie examined her face. Morgan didn’t look like she had good news. She seemed to be balancing on the edge of tears. “What?”

“It’s about your mother.” She planted a smile on her face. It was a valiant effort, but it didn’t reach to her eyes. “You were right. God is giving her a second chance.”

“She’s getting out?” The words burst out of her.

“Next week,” Morgan said.

Sadie let out a scream and began jumping up and down. She hugged Morgan. “Did you talk to her?”

“No, her lawyer called.”

Sadie squealed. “Oh, my gosh! I bet she’s just freaking out.” She ran into the kitchen and found Caleb sitting among several pots and pans that he banged on with his favorite wooden spoon. She grabbed him up and kissed him. “Caleb, Mom’s coming home!”

He giggled, though he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.

“Mom’s coming home!” She swung around to Morgan. “She’s coming here, right?”

Morgan’s smile faltered. “I don’t know, honey.”

“But she has to. We can’t leave.” Only then did Sadie understand the reason for the tension on Morgan’s face.

“She’s welcome here,” Morgan said.

“Oh, Morgan, do you think she’ll come?”

Tears came to Morgan’s eyes, and she took Caleb out of Sadie’s arms. “I hope so.”

Any other possibility seemed too far-fetched to consider. Sadie thought of her mother coming here, seeing the beautiful house, and soaking up the love and warmth of the family. She had never really had that before. “She will. I’ll convince her. Don’t worry, Morgan. It’s going to be all right. I’ll go visit her Saturday and talk her into it. Where else would she go?”

With that, she ran up the stairs and began to clean up her room, to prepare for her mother.

H
ow do you people work in this place? Can you at least turn up the air-conditioner?”

Cade looked at the cocky detective at the back of the group. He’d had to cram all of the crime scene investigators—three from the State Police, plus McCormick and himself—into the small interview room at the police department. It wasn’t big enough for this many people.

“Yeah,” someone else complained. “Place feels like a boiler room.”

“Or maybe a laundromat.” The three guest detectives laughed.

Cade didn’t find it amusing. “We’re trying to cool it down. I’ll make this fast.” He stood in front of the dry-erase boards he had temporarily hung on the wall and pointed to the column with “BODY” at the top. “Strangle marks on her neck. No other bruises or cuts, no signs of a struggle. The medical examiner put her death at ten-thirty Friday morning. She was dead before she went into the water.”

“So the husband is in custody?” one of the detectives asked.

“That’s right. The DA wanted me to bring him in, but the truth is, he doesn’t have enough of a case to convict. And I’m not entirely convinced the husband’s the killer. The letters, shoes, and telephone cord do seem to implicate him, but he claims that the shoes were in her car at the time of the murder and that the killer must have brought them back to his house and put them under the bed where we’d find them.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“Yeah, it is,” Cade admitted. “And then there’s the phone cord that came from their house. And we have the letters. Don’t yet know where they came from, but we have handwriting analysts working on that. Either there was another woman, which certainly could be the motive, or someone was trying to sabotage Ben Jackson’s marriage…”

“Or his campaign,” McCormick added.

“Have you considered one of his opponents?” someone asked.

“Could be,” Cade said. “Alibi’s iffy. And he’s been pretty cut-throat during this campaign.”

“What about the other one?”

“Jonathan Cleary?” Cade knew Jonathan hadn’t done it, but he didn’t want to appear biased. “Has a strong alibi. His wife had a miscarriage that morning. They were at the hospital, then he didn’t leave her until later in the day. The residents of their house are witnesses.”

A knock sounded on the door, and he opened it. Alex Johnson stood there with an uncomfortable look on his face. “Uh…Chief. You may want to take a look at this. That
Observer
guy is on FOX News again.”

Cade groaned and stepped into the squad room. The television was on in the corner, with the volume turned down low. Video was playing of Ben’s arrest, of Cade walking him through the crowd to the squad car, and of Cade’s comments about not being the sheriff.

Vince had made him look like a jerk. Cade turned it up and heard Vince talking over the video. “…rumors that Ben Jackson was having an affair. It seems that the other woman had been writing letters to Lisa, telling her about the affair. According to her friend Rani Nixon, Lisa had confronted her husband about the affair, but he convinced her it was a hoax.”

Cade just stood there, frozen, trying to stay calm. In the reflection of the television screen, he saw that all of the detectives in the meeting had come out and were watching it, too.

He brought his hand up and raked his fingers through his hair. He was glad Vince Barr wasn’t within his reach. He might have actually given the national media a new story to cover.

Cade turned back to the men. “I guess the meeting’s over. McCormick, tell them what we need from them.”

His jaw flexed as he went into his office and put his foot up on the desk. If he could keep the media out of his way long enough to conduct this investigation, they might actually figure out who the killer was.

The media would try Ben in the court of public opinion, before they even had a case that could convict him. Meanwhile, if Ben wasn’t their guy, the real killer was getting a good laugh out of the whole blasted thing.

T
he test results cleared Jonathan of blame for their fertility problems, which laid it squarely at Morgan’s feet. Dr. Sims scheduled a hysterogram for the next day and assured her they would know more after that.

Morgan knew she should be grateful that the first test had shown no problems, but a heaviness lay over her heart at the thought of the road they were headed down.

When she saw Sam Sullivan’s car pulling into the driveway, she thought of meeting him at the door and warning him that Jonathan was on his boat, trying to earn a living, and that she wasn’t in the mood for his harassment today.

Instead, she met him out on the porch and forced herself to greet him like she would any other visitor.

He looked as if he’d just won the lottery. “Did you hear that Ben has been taken off the ballot?”

Morgan crossed her arms. “Where did you hear that?”

“Down at City Hall. There was a question on whether he qualified to run, given his arrest, but apparently he told them to pull him out of the race. Looks like it’s just Jonathan and me now. We’ve officially rescheduled the debate for a week from Saturday.”

“That’s fine, Sam. That’ll be three days before the election.”

He chuckled and rubbed his hands together as if he couldn’t wait to take Jonathan on. “Sure he’s up to a one-on-one?”

Morgan tried to smile. “I’m sure he’s ready, Sam.”

He started back to his car, but stopped before getting in. “Oh, by the way, did you hear about the deal I just made for a cell phone tower on the island?”

Her smile faltered. “No, I didn’t.”

“I sold them some of my land. Prime real estate. We’ll have cell service out here before we know it.”

He winked like a car salesman and got into his Mercedes.

Morgan watched him drive away. So that was his ace in the hole. He would become the island hero by giving the people something they wanted.

It would be hard to compete with that. She only hoped the people had sense enough to see past it.

C
ade hadn’t planned to come to the City Council meeting tonight. He had enough to do and didn’t relish wasting time with this group of gabbing, self-important council members, but they had demanded his presence and an update on the investigation.

He asked them to put him first on the agenda so he could get in and out quickly, but as was always the case, they ignored his wishes, bickering about when the next meeting was going to be and who would be introducing the candidates at the upcoming debate.

He looked at his watch and wished they would hurry.

Finally, they came to an agreement, and Art Russell banged his gavel.

“Next on the agenda tonight we’d like to address some questions to Chief Cade. Cade, would you mind stepping up to the microphone, please?”

Cade looked around. Other than council members, there were only six people in attendance tonight. “What do I need a microphone for, Art? There’s nobody here.”

“Very well. Stay where you are. We wanted to talk to you about this investigation and how much it’s costing Cape Refuge.”

Sarah Williford had a Tootsie Pop in her mouth. She took it out to address him. “Cade, you’re way over your department’s budget on this.”

“That’s right,” Cade said. “I never budgeted in a murder. Since I only have one detective in the department, I had to go to outside departments to do the crime scene investigations. And yes, they do have to be paid for the overtime hours. Some of that money will come from the state, and some of it will come from their own departments, but we are going to have to come up with some of it.”

“How long are you going to need those folks?” George O’Neal asked from the end of the table. He must have been out fishing today, for his skin was ridiculously red. “You’ve made an arrest. Looks like you could send them on their way.”

“Come on, George. We’re going to use the help as long as we need it. There’s more to an investigation than making an arrest. I can’t short-circuit this investigation just to save the city a few bucks.”

Sarah piped in. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to drag it out if you already know who did it.”

Cade cleared his throat and tried to stay calm. “Sarah, I’m not going to try and explain to you the finer points of investigating a homicide. You’re just going to have to trust me to do my job.”

“We’re just saying you don’t need an outside group to help you solve a murder that’s already been solved.”

“This is why your days as chief are numbered,” Art Russell muttered.

Cade ground his teeth, the muscles in his jaw popping, and considered handing them his resignation right then and there, but he couldn’t let pride and emotion guide him. “I have no intention of discussing the details of this case in front of this body. And I will not close an investigation just for your convenience or your budget. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Cade turned and limped back to the door he’d come in and prayed again that Jonathan would be elected mayor, before the business of this town got further out of hand.

C
ade sat at his desk, staring down at the paperwork he had to deal with before he could get back to the investigation. Anger still beat through him at the City Council’s audacity.

What did they expect him to do? With a force of fourteen people, including himself, it was impossible to evaluate the evidence from the car, the body, the bank of the river, the Jackson house, Lisa’s business, Ben’s boat, and all the other possible crime scenes, without outside help.

“Hey, Chief. Somebody here to see you.”

Cade looked up at Alex. “I’m kind of busy.”

“It’s Lisa Jackson’s parents.”

Cade sat back hard and rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t send them away. They were probably crazy with grief over their daughter. He looked around. He had reports stacked up on the chair in front of his desk and three feet of files on his desk. If he moved anything, he’d lose his whole train of thought.

He could meet them in the interview room, but first he’d have to remove the dry erase boards he’d been charting the investigation on. He couldn’t let them see them.

“Alex, do me a favor. Go in the interview room and turn those boards to face the wall. I’ll take them in there.”

“Will do, Chief.”

Cade got his cane and limped out of the office. The couple stood at the door, looking awkwardly around. The woman, who appeared to be just over sixty, had a vacant expression in her eyes as she stared at the air. Her fingers rubbed her white collar nervously. Lisa’s father wore an expression that hovered between despair and indignation.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hinton, I’m Chief Matthew Cade,” he said in a soft voice. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Lisa’s father shook his hand. “Al Hinton. My wife, Marge.”

Cade led them into the interview room and gestured for them to sit down. He closed the door and took his seat at the table. “Mr. and Mrs. Hinton, first let me say how sorry I am about your loss.”

Mr. Hinton cleared his throat. “We need to know if…we need to understand…”

“Why would Ben kill our daughter?” Marge blurted.

Cade knew that Ben’s arrest had to make their tragedy double-edged. “Mrs. Hinton, your son-in-law is innocent until proven guilty. I can’t really discuss the details of the investigation.”

“Just tell us, is it true about the shoes and the letters?” Al asked in a raspy voice. “That’s all they’re talking about on the news.”

Cade thought of Vince Barr and all the damage he was doing to this case. “There were some shoes found in Ben and Lisa’s house, and they matched the footprints at the scene of the crime.”

“And there were letters from some girlfriend?”

“We don’t yet know who those letters were from or even that they were true.”

Mrs. Hinton got up and stared down at him through raw, swollen eyes. “Chief Cade, we’ve loved Ben all these years. He’s
like a son to us. We can’t imagine he would do such a thing, that he would hurt our daughter when he seemed to love her so much.”

“Has he said why?” Al asked. “Has he given any indication of what might have caused this?”

Cade wanted very much to tell them that he wasn’t convinced that Ben was the killer, that he may indeed be the devoted husband they believed, but doing so would undermine the district attorney and make things even worse than they were already.

“Would you like to see him and ask him yourself?”

Al looked like he might seize the opportunity, but Marge began to cry harder. “I can’t look him in the eye, knowing he might have hurt Lisa. I can’t sit there and listen to him lie.”

Cade got up and went around the table to Mrs. Hinton. He bent down to her and touched her shoulder. “Ma’am, I can tell you that the investigation is not over. We’re still gathering evidence, still getting tips. All the pieces of this puzzle aren’t in place yet. It could be that things will change. When’s the last time you spoke to your daughter?”

“The night before she disappeared.” She dug into her purse for a tissue and dabbed at her nose. “She called and was anxious over the IVF. She felt it had to work, that it was her last chance to get pregnant.”

“Did she mention anything else she was upset or worried about?”

“No, not at all. We talked about my arthritis. I dominated the conversation.” She stopped and tried to rein her emotions in. “I wouldn’t have, if I’d known it was the last time I’d ever talk to her. I would have told her I loved her. I would have listened more.”

Cade wished he could take off his chief-of-police hat, and just hold her hand to comfort her. “Don’t you think she knew you loved her?”

Al put his arm around her, and she laid her head on his shoulder and wept. “She knows, Mother. Lisa knows.”

Marge looked up at Cade, her eyes pleading. “Do you think she suffered, Chief Cade? Do you think it was a horrible death?”

“No ma’am,” he whispered. “It looks like her death was quick.” He didn’t know that for sure, but it was the only thing kind enough to say. “Mr. and Mrs. Hinton, whoever did this to your daughter will be brought to justice. I’ll see to it here, and God is going to see to it in the next life.”

But it didn’t satisfy the mourning couple. He supposed nothing ever would.