Speak No Evil (25 page)

C
aroline paced the den, waiting with her sisters to watch the breaking news. The TV was on channel eleven, and both Augusta and Savannah were hugging their knees on the couch.

Savannah’s eyes were glued to the screen. “I wonder who it was.”

So did Caroline. But she was thankful both her sisters were present and accounted for. She hugged herself, the knots in her stomach tightening with every second that passed.

She wondered who Frank had sent to cover the press conference, but trusting others to do the job came with the territory, she was learning. Frank had been handling this sort of situation as long as she had been on Earth. Right now, she belonged with her sisters.

Augusta craned her neck back, peering at Caroline. “I can’t believe Jack wouldn’t tell you.”

Caroline frowned. She didn’t want to talk about Jack. As a matter of fact, she didn’t even want to think about him!

After multiple teases by the anchor team, they were waiting for Chief Condon to appear in front of the Lockwood building. The anchorwoman cut to reporter Sandra Rivers on location outside the station. The reporter’s bright red suit and lipstick were probably a bad choice under the circumstances, but at least she looked appropriately sober. Finally, Billy Condon, a burly man in his early fifties with a shaved head and mole above his left eye, emerged from the building and an entire mob of reporters accosted him at once. Caroline spotted Brad on the sidelines, ready and eager to scribble down anything that came out of the chief’s mouth. Pam was conspicuously absent from the crowd.

The look in Condon’s eyes was clearly emotional. “Earlier this evening,” he began, “at approximately ten thirty
P.M.
. . . the body of Officer Kelly Banks was discovered in Brittlebank Park.”

Caroline felt as though a bowling ball dropped inside her belly. The breath left her all at once.

Savannah gasped aloud. “Jesus!”

“Isn’t she—” Whatever Augusta was going to ask froze on her lips when she turned and saw Caroline’s ashen face.

On the screen, camera flashes set off a miniature light show.

Looking sober behind the microphone, Condon continued. “Officer Banks was a valuable asset to our force . . . we offer our deepest sympathies to her family and we honor her service to the City of Charleston. I’m sorry, that’s it. We’re all a little shocked, but we would like to answer your questions if possible.”

“Chief Condon,” someone shouted. “Is it official? Do we have a serial killer?”

Condon’s jaw worked. “We are not currently using that term in connection with the deaths of Ms. Banks and Ms. Jones.”

“Currently?” Sandra Rivers asked, catching the distinction immediately and going after it with all the finesse of a cougar. “Does that mean you believe the status will change?”

Condon avoided the camera directly. “At this point, there have been two similar homicides, which suggests only that everyone should take certain precautions in their everyday lives, but as yet, it has not been established that both were committed by the same person.”

“Will you call in the FBI?” Brad shouted across the crowd.

Caroline chewed her cuticle.

“No,” Condon said without hesitation. “We have every faith in our local forces to solve these murders. However, we have formed a task force and will now work together with SLED and the sheriff ’s office.”

“Was Officer Banks strangled too?”

“Asphyxiated,” he corrected.

“Chief Condon! We heard there was a witness tonight! Can you elaborate?”

“I’m sorry, that is all we have at the moment. As more news becomes available, the Public Information Officer will keep you informed. Thank you!” He started to walk away.

“Chief Condon—wait! Is it known whether the killer is targeting victims or do you believe the women were chosen at random?”

Condon stopped and turned to answer the question. “All we know conclusively is that the victims were both outside alone at night. Again, please take necessary precautions.”

Brad edged his way in. “Chief Condon,” he shouted. “Doesn’t strangulation suggest this is a personal crime? Wouldn’t that indicate the victims knew their attacker?”

“Officer Banks died of asphyxia associated with drowning,” Condon clarified again. “We believe it would be a mistake to assume the victims were acquainted with the murderer.”

Brad followed his question with another. “Was there a struggle? Can you clarify, please?”

Condon held up a hand. “I’m sorry. That’s all—I am not at liberty to discuss the details of the case. The ongoing investigation will now be led by Detective Donald Garrison.”

“Will Detective Garrison be available for comment?”

“Negative.”

“What about Detective Shaw?”

He shook his head. “Detective Shaw is at this moment with the Banks family.”

Sandra Rivers edged her way in, holding out her microphone, and said in a practiced old Charleston accent, “Chief Condon, can you tell us if Detective Shaw was removed from the case because of his—”

Condon cut her off. “Shaw is a dedicated professional. His personal life is not at issue here. This press conference is over, Ms. Rivers,” he said and started toward the building.

The mob followed. “Chief Condon! Chief Condon! Chief Condon! Do you believe we’ll have a third murder?”

“Let’s hope not,” he replied without turning, and with those final words, he dove into the safety of the building, barricaded by his men.

Augusta muted the sound of the television, and you could have sliced the silence in the room with a knife. “Holy shit,” she exclaimed.

Caroline woke around three-fifteen, the numerals on her mother’s clock glowing red, staining the room with the color of blood. She tossed and turned the rest of the night. About six, she gave up trying to sleep and got up and went straight down to the kitchen, hoping to find Sadie. She wanted to gather everyone together under one roof, lock the doors and let no one ever leave again—which was entirely ridiculous, she realized. Still, she would feel better if they were all together. Savannah she trusted to do the right thing, and she intended to take every precaution herself, but she wasn’t so sure about Sadie or Augusta. Augusta was entirely too reckless and Sadie was too accustomed to being alone. She thought maybe she could talk Sadie into staying with them for a little while, but the vehemence with which the housekeeper responded completely took her by surprise.

“No! I’m not gonna pack my bags and move into this damned house, eah me—not even temporarily!”

Caroline would probably feel the same about abandoning her privacy, but it seemed to her that it was a small price to pay to ensure that everyone was safe. “You barely leave the kitchen anyway, Sadie! You might as well drag in a cot and sleep here, for God’s sake. Come on! I bet Josh would support this. There’s more than enough room!”

Sadie gave her a quelling glance, as only Sadie could, and warned, “Don’t you dare talk to my son about any of this, eah! I am not going to do it and that’s all there is to it! I’ve been living in that house my entire life and I ain’t gonna leave it now!”

“Jesus Christ!” Caroline said. “You’re like those stubborn folks who drown in their homes during hurricanes because they refuse to evacuate!”

Clearly upset now, in a way Caroline had never witnessed, Sadie began tossing pans into the sink. “Now you listen to me good, young lady! Josh bought me a new alarm system last year. I’ll be fine in my own house! You three are way more apt to burn yourselves up alive in this museum than I am to end up some pervert white man’s sexual deviance!”

“These things are not always about sex,” Caroline pointed out. “I had no idea this house offended you so much.”

Sadie tossed more pans into the sink, making an ungodly racket. Caroline wondered if it were for effect. “This house does not offend me! I have managed it longer than any of y’all have been alive, but this is not my house! And I’m not staying in it no matter what you say! You worry about your own self!” she said, and walked out of the kitchen, conversation over.

Savannah appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking completely bewildered. “How in the hell did you manage to piss her off?”

“Seems lately I could start an argument in an empty house.”

Her youngest sister came in the kitchen and stood on the other side of the island where Caroline had taken refuge. “This hasn’t been easy for any of us,” she said. “I can’t pretend to know how it feels to have a mother’s responsibility for three grown women who aren’t your flesh and blood, but I imagine Sadie feels guilty enough over the resentment she must feel at being left with such a huge burden without adding a sense of forced gratitude as well.”

Caroline screwed her face. “Good Lord! She’s our family! Why in God’s name would she feel any of that?”

“She is, but think about it for a minute. No matter how we may feel about her, Sadie earned her living taking care of us. Mom
paid
her to do the things she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.”

“Not any longer! And I actually seem to recall telling her not to! She’s not being paid to take care of us! She’s doing what she’s doing because she chooses to!”

“Is she?”

“Yes! She never has to work another day in her life if she doesn’t want to.”

Savannah raised her brows contentiously. “Think about it from Sadie’s perspective. Mom didn’t give her a lump sum so she could retire on some tropical island and sip Mai Tais the rest of her life. She’s still earning probably exactly what she was earning before Mom died . . . except that now she owns her house outright and doesn’t have to put in notice for days off.”

Caroline thought about it.

Savannah continued. “I have no doubt that Sadie loves us and that she wants to help, but there’s still a fine line that must be painfully visible from her perspective. Essentially, she’s still getting paid to take care of us—business as usual. She doesn’t know how to deal with you changing the rules at this stage in the game.”

Augusta had said something similar and the bit of wisdom struck a chord. “But she and Mom must have been friends.”

Savannah shrugged. “I think they were. But what does that have to do with this?”

“Do you think Josh feels the same way?”

Savannah shook her head, then followed it with a shrug. “Different generations. It probably wasn’t the same for them as it is for us and Josh.”

Caroline considered her younger sister and the wisdom that seemed to come out of her mouth as easily as turning on a tap. Even hers and Augusta’s leg up in years didn’t seem to make up for Savannah’s innate sense of intuition. “Why does it feel you sometimes know everything and that you’re just patiently waiting for everyone else to figure it all out?”

Savannah laughed. “That’s so not true!” Then she sobered suddenly and pointed out, “If I knew everything I’d be able to lead you straight to the monster who’s killing these poor girls.”

“Yeah about that . . . somehow I feel I made everything worse.”

Savannah narrowed her eyes, giving her that look that always made Caroline feel a little spooky, and said, “Every action has a consequence, Caroline . . . all you can do is start out with the best motives. . . then come what may.”

Caroline was still mulling over that bit of advice when Savannah interjected, “You’ll figure it out.” And she left Caroline alone in the kitchen, wondering what she could do to help Sadie feel more a part of their family.

She appreciated Sadie’s help, but she truly loved her—in some ways more than she loved her own mother. No matter how much regret she might feel over her dysfunctional relationship with Flo, it didn’t change the truth. She stared at the pile of pots and pans in the sink and tried to remember the last time any of them had picked up a sponge while living under this roof.

The answer was never.

Walking over to the sink, Caroline peered at the mess inside and turned on the tap, grabbing a sponge. The office could wait ten minutes longer. Nothing was going to fall apart before she got there—nothing that wasn’t already unraveling. Frank knew what to do, and she could use a little empty space in her head to consider next steps.

 

While Jack waited for information to filter down, he went through Kelly’s effects for her parents. He found no documents bearing his name. Nothing. Whatever she had been working on, she had taken it with her, maybe to the grave.

He put her belongings into a box and hauled it back to his office, running into Garrison on his way. Thankfully, they weren’t shutting him out cold. Technically, Garrison was still his partner. He could still have the information; he just couldn’t handle evidence, ride shotgun on the investigation or talk to anyone connected to the case.

“We got the initial word back from the lab,” Garrison said. “Like the first victim, her tongue was missing and her mouth was painted with the same blue dye.”