Breaker's Reef

by Terri Blackstock

“He’s a novelist, remember? He makes things up. Acts things out. In some ways, he becomes his characters. And his characters are killers. Staging the bodies so they’ll be discovered is part of their thrill.”

  “Was there anyone set up in the book’s murder? Did it describe the killer going there knowing someone else would be there?”

  “No, that part wasn’t there. I think that was just icing on the cake for Gibson. Or maybe it was all a coincidence.”

  “It wasn’t.” Cade got up and leaned over the table. “No way. Whoever put that girl’s body there knew she would be discovered that very afternoon. He came after I was there and timed it just right.”

  “The girl’s time of death was estimated at one or two a.m. this morning.”

  “So Gibson could have killed her after he was released from custody. Any way he evaded surveillance? Got away without being seen?”

  Smith shook his head. “I don’t think so. We had cameras mounted around his house. Even if one of our guys fell asleep, the cameras would have shown him leaving. He didn’t leave the house.”

  “We need to find out who he knows on the island. Someone he could have paid to hide the girl there.”

  “We’re looking. So far, we haven’t found any witnesses who saw anyone but you going out there.”

  “You need to interview everyone I told about the proposal. See who they told. See if you can make any connections to Gibson. Maybe he overheard somebody in my department talking about it when he was there. The walls are paper-thin.”

  “By the way,” Yeager said, “Gibson was right about his first draft being bad. We’re talking amateur. Hack stuff, just like he warned us. I would have thought he had some command of the language. He was an English professor, after all. And he talks like Sherlock Holmes. Weird that he’d write something that would flunk him out of an English class.”

  Cade had to admit he was curious. “Can I have a look?”

  “Sure, I have a printout.” He handed Cade a stack of pages. Frowning, Cade scanned the scene. How had the man ever passed an English class, let alone taught one? He supposed that was what editors were for.

  Maybe he had people to clean up all of his messes—the books, as well as the murders.

  CHAPTER 23

  It was 7:00 p.m. when Cade got home from the GBI office. The phone was ringing when he walked in. It was Chief Grant of Tybee Island’s police department. “Cade, I need you to come over here to Tybee. There’s somebody here I want you to see.”

  “I can be there in a few minutes. What’s up?”

  “I’ve got a couple of parents here from Brunswick who think the body you found today might be their daughter. They drove here as soon as they heard it on the news. Some of what they have to say might interest you.”

  Brunswick. The town was about ninety miles away.

  “All right,” Cade said. “I’ll be right over.”

  A knot formed in Cade’s gut as he headed across the island to face another set of parents. He could only imagine what they were going through right now, hearing that a body was found, that the girl fit their daughter’s description.

  He crossed the bridge and reached the Tybee police department, a building much more modern than the Laundromat housing the Cape Refuge police department. He went in and asked for Chief Grant.

  Grant was waiting for him in one of the interview rooms. As soon as Cade stepped into the doorway, he saw the grief-stricken couple. The woman’s foot jittered as she sat clutching her chair, white-knuckled. The father was sweating as he paced from one side of the room to the other.

  They both wore wild, panicked expressions. Uncertainty about their daughter was clearly killing them.

  When Cade stepped into the room, they froze.

  Grant got up and introduced them. “Cade, this is Bob and Lana Roarke. They drove here this afternoon from Brunswick, after hearing about the girl you found.”

  Cade shook the father’s hand.

  “What did she look like, Chief Cade? The girl you found … we have to know.”

  Cade cleared his throat. “She had blonde hair. Brown eyes.”

  “Oh, no.” Lana pressed her mouth into the palm of her hand and shut her eyes as if that could mute Cade’s voice.

  “You’ll have to identify her in person,” he said quietly, “but if I could see a picture of your daughter, maybe I could tell if she looks like the girl we found.”

  Lana dug into her purse for a wallet-sized photo. Cade took the picture and studied it. Was it the girl? He wasn’t sure. Hadn’t the girl in the cave had a darker shade of blonde hair? Or was it just that it was wet?

  “I can’t honestly say.”

  Hope lifted both their faces. “Then you think it might be someone else?”

  He didn’t want to get their hopes up—but there was no point in destroying it either. “She looks different, but the girl I found was wet, and … I just don’t know. Mr. and Mrs. Roarke, is your daughter a runaway?”

  Lana started to cry. “If you can call it that at nineteen. She and her best friend Jamie Maddox vanished three days ago. It took us awhile to trace her steps, but we’re pretty sure they were coming to Cape Refuge.”

  Bob rubbed his mouth roughly. “Chief, was there a mole on her left temple?”

  Cade shook his head and handed the picture back. “I don’t remember seeing one, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t. Why do you think she came here?”

  Bob’s voice was raspy. “Our daughter is adopted, and she’s been on a crusade to find her birth mother. We kept discouraging her. We’ve given her a good home, and we couldn’t understand why she wanted another set of parents, especially when they didn’t want her to begin with. We’ve had her since she was a week old.”

  “A year and a half ago, she tracked her mother down in prison,” Lana added. “She was crushed that she was there, and we thought that was the end of it. But she started checking her out again in the last few weeks and found out she was released a year ago. She kept it from us.”

  “How did you find out?”

  Bob sighed. “We weren’t able to get in touch with her, and we got concerned and called one of her suitemates at school. She told us Amelia and Jamie had been gone since Wednesday.”

  “Did she know where they went?” Grant asked.

  Lana got her purse and dug through it for a tissue. Swabbing her nose, she said, “She told us they went to Atlanta to find her mother. I guess she thought she could get a forwarding address from the prison or one of her former neighbors.”

  “We tried to retrace her steps and found out that this woman had moved to Cape Refuge.”

  Cade frowned. “What’s the mother’s name, Mrs. Roarke?”

  “Sheila Caruso.”

  Cade felt the blood draining from his face. Grant noticed his expression. “You know her?”

  “Yes, I know her. She lives at Hanover House.”

  Grant’s eyes narrowed, and he sat down. “Hanover House? That halfway house?”

  “Yes. Sheila’s been there about a year. Grant, she’s the one who works for Marcus Gibson.” He saw the words registering on Grant’s mind and knew what he was thinking. Could Sheila be implicated here? Was the connection mere coincidence?

  Lana stood up. “I want to talk to this woman.”

  Grant turned back to Cade. “Doesn’t your fiancée own Hanover House?”

  He didn’t bother to remind him she wasn’t his fiancée yet. “Blair’s family owns it. I’m sure I would have heard if your daughter contacted her.”

  “Unless Sheila didn’t want anyone to know,” Lana touched his arm. “Is it possible she’s dangerous?”

  “Sheila? No.”

  “But she’s an ex-con.” That fear deepened in her eyes. “How do you know?”

  “She was in prison for drug violations, Mrs. Roarke. Not for anything violent.”

  Grant leaned on the table, arms crossed. “Cade, you think you should approach her first?”

  That was a good idea. If Sheil
a had seen this girl, he needed to drill her about what had happened without her parents listening to every word. Their emotions might get in the way. “Good idea. After I interview her, then you can talk with her. For now, Mr. and Mrs. Roarke, you need to go to the morgue. That’s the only way you’ll know for sure if the girl we found is your daughter.”

  Lana pressed the wadded tissue against her eyes and wilted into her chair.

  “Yes,” Bob said weakly. “That’s what we need to do.”

  Cade stood up. “I’ll take you. That all right, Grant?”

  “Sure. Call me the minute you know.”

  “I will.”

  The couple were quiet as they got into Cade’s squad car. As he drove them to the Chatham County Morgue, he prayed it was all a big mistake, that the girl he’d found in the cave was someone else. Not Sheila’s daughter. Not Sadie and Caleb’s lost sister.

  But then there would be other parents who had to come and identify their child’s remains. Other broken hearts. Other lives destroyed.

  But he was here, with these people, who braced themselves for a nightmare—and with all his heart, he hoped their daughter was still alive.

  Cade hated the morgue. He always had, though coming here was often part of his job. He’d been present at more autopsies than he wanted to remember, and stood at too many people’s sides as they identified their loved ones. He’d even had to come here when his own mother was killed in a car accident when he was eighteen. His father was out of town, and there’d been no one else to identify the body.

  He’d been in denial as he and Jonathan strode down the long, dark, cold hall next to the clerk who called him “Hon.” Even now, so many years later, he remembered how badly he’d wanted to tell her she didn’t have to be so nice to him, because it probably wasn’t his mother, just some other woman in a white LeSabre … who just happened to have his mother’s ID.

  Jonathan had been at his side, and when they showed him the woman’s body, Cade stared for a moment. It looked like his mother. The same curve to her lips, the same laugh lines etched next to her eyes, the same silver streak that highlighted her black hair. But the vacancy in her eyes, her features, made her seem like someone else. He clung to that hope, his eyes searching her for clues that it wasn’t her after all …

  Then next to him, he heard his best friend’s soft, broken sob. “Aw, no … it’s her, man. I’m so sorry.”

  Cade hadn’t shed a tear. Not then. He just stood there, staring at her and trying to make his mind grasp the truth.

  Shaking off the memories, Cade looked at the couple walking next to him—hand in hand—down that same hall he’d followed all those years ago. Their faces were ashen and stark, controlled terror shadowed their features.

  Were they believers? Would they be able to lean on the only One who could comfort them? Or would they lash out at God, blaming Him for the death of the child they must have considered such a perfect gift?

  They reached the room with all its drawers, each containing bodies from Savannah or Wilmington or Tybee or Cape Refuge or any of the other towns that made up Chatham County. The girl’s drawer was 316. The clerk led them to it and pulled it open.

  The body was covered with a sheet. Lana wobbled, and Bob held her up.

  The clerk peeled back the sheet, revealing the girl Cade found in the cave. He searched her face for the mole …

  Lana caught her breath and put her hand over her mouth, and long, crushing moans came out of her throat as she wilted against her husband.

  “It’s not her!” Bob’s voice was raw, hoarse. “It’s not Amelia.”

  Cade almost didn’t believe them. Was it denial, the same kind he’d had? Or was it truth?

  Lana turned back to the body. “It’s her friend, Jamie. Oh, dear God, if she’s dead, where is Amelia?”

  So they weren’t in denial. They had given the girl a name. “Tell me Jamie’s last name again?”

  “Maddox. Oh, her poor parents! We have to call them, Bob.”

  Bob wasn’t thinking about calling the girl’s parents. “Amelia could still be alive, Chief Cade. She’s somewhere around here. You have to find her. You have to. Please, I’m begging you.”

  Cade nodded to the clerk, who covered the girl back up. “I’ll do everything in my power. You have my word on that.”

  CHAPTER 24

  It was getting dark as Cade took the couple back to the Tybee police station, where they agreed to wait until the GBI agents came to question them about their daughter. Meanwhile, Cade needed to break the news to Sheila and see what she knew.

  Grant walked him out to his car. “Are you sure you’ve never seen that girl before?”

  Was Grant doubting his story? “No. We’ve already been over this. I’d never laid eyes on her. Look, Grant, I know it looks bad, with my having been at the cave and all. If I were investigating this crime, I’d probably consider myself the prime suspect. But this was as much a surprise to me as it was to anybody.”

  Grant sighed. “You let me know if the Caruso woman sheds any light on things. And find out if she has an alibi.”

  “I will.” Cade started to get into his car, but Grant kept him from closing the door. Leaning in, he said, “Cade, is there anybody you can think of who would want to set you up? Any enemies? Somebody you might have sent to prison?”

  “There are always enemies. It’s an occupational hazard. But your guess is as good as mine.”

  He drove across the bridge back to Cape Refuge, his mind racing through all the people he’d helped convict over the years. Which one would want revenge enough to kill for it? And if murder wasn’t too high a price, wouldn’t they have killed him instead of an innocent girl?

  If Gibson was the killer, then who had he gotten to move the body? For the right price, he probably could have hired any stranger on the docks. Or someone he already had on his payroll.

  Sheila Caruso’s connection to one of the dead girls was disturbing, in light of her connection to Gibson. Did she know more than she was telling?

  For the life of Amelia Roarke, he had to find out.

  He called Joe McCormick as he rounded Ocean Boulevard. “Hey, Joe. I need you to meet me over at Hanover House to talk to Sheila Caruso.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right there. Something wrong?”

  He told him about Amelia Roarke and her connection to Sheila.

  “You don’t think Sheila was involved in the murders, do you?” Joe asked. “Because I just don’t see it in her.”

  “I don’t know. But I want you there to help me judge whether she’s telling the truth.”

  McCormick paused for several seconds longer than necessary. “Okay, Cade. I’ll see you there.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Jonathan was on the front porch changing a light bulb when Cade pulled into the driveway. Cade got out of his car.

  Jonathan peered down at him. “You okay, buddy? Blair told us what happened.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Jonathan, I’m here on police business.”

  “Yeah?” His friend came down the steps. “Is it about the girl you found today? Do you know who she is yet?”

  “Yeah, her name’s Jamie Maddox. She’s from Brunswick.”

  McCormick’s car pulled into the driveway, his headlight illuminating the front of the house. Jonathan’s frown went deeper. “Wow. You brought your detective. What’s going on, buddy?”

  “It’s a long story. I need to talk to Sheila right now. Is she still up?”

  “I think so. She’s not in some kind of trouble, is she?”

  Cade evaded. “We just need to ask her a few questions.”

  Jonathan wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm and set his hands on his hips. “Come on, man. If Sheila’s done something, I need to know.”

  “You will,” Cade said. “Just let us talk to her first.”

  Jonathan led them into the house. Morgan came out of the kitchen. “Cade, Joe, I didn’t expect to see you. Blair told me what happened. How hor
rible.”

  “Yeah, it was a surprise, that’s for sure.”

  Jonathan went halfway up the staircase. “Sheila! Can you come here, please?”

  After a moment, Sheila came to the stairs and started down. She caught sight of Cade and McCormick and brought her hand to her hair. “Hey, guys.”

  “Sheila, Cade and Joe need to talk to you,” Jonathan said.

  “Sure. About Marcus Gibson?”

  “Not exactly,” Cade said. “Can we step into the parlor and talk?”

  “Okay.” She looked back at Morgan and Jonathan. “Can they come too?”

  Cade looked back at his friends. “It’s okay, if you don’t mind.”

  Morgan gave Jonathan a concerned look, and they followed her in. It was one thing to give a resident privacy when she needed it, but another when there were police involved. If Sheila was somehow involved in this crime, the directors of Hanover House needed to know.

  They all sat down, and McCormick set his serious eyes on Sheila.

  She looked from him to Cade. “Okay, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

  Cade started. “Sheila, I just came from meeting a couple who thought that the girl I found today was their daughter. It turned out not to be. It was her best friend, who was traveling with her. Their daughter is still missing.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  McCormick took it from there. “Their daughter was headed to Cape Refuge. To search for her birth mother.”

  Sheila seemed to wait for more.

  “She’s nineteen,” Cade said softly. “Born October 29 …”

  Sheila’s face shifted, changed, and Cade saw that she understood.

  “She’s … mine?”

  Morgan frowned at Jonathan, not quite following.

  “Wait a minute,” Jonathan said. “Is Sheila this girl’s birth mother?”

  Cade nodded, and Sheila sprang up. “My daughter?”

  “Amelia Roarke,” Cade said.

  Sheila started to cry. “Amelia,” she whispered. “What a sweet name. She came looking for me?”

  Morgan stood up with her. “Sheila, I didn’t know …”