There was a slight pause before Aunt Lydia replied, “I love you too.” Her normally clear voice was shaky. “Now let me talk to Zelda.”
I handed the cell phone to Zelda and wiped tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand.
She passed me a wad of tissues as she took the phone. “Hello, Lydia. Yes, she’ll be all right. Just having a good cry. As she should, poor lamb.”
Sunny opened one eye and looked over at me. “We’re about to be managed,” she whispered.
I nodded, dabbing the tissues to my eyes. Yes, Zelda and Aunt Lydia and the Fieldses would no doubt take charge once we reached the hospital. Which was something I actually welcomed at this point.
And Richard would probably want to take care of me too. Which was, surprisingly, also okay by me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
After a CAT scan and a few other tests, I was allowed to leave the hospital. Of course, the tests—honestly, the waiting for the tests—had taken most of the night. By the time I was sent home with strict instructions to rest quietly for several days, ribbons of rose were threading the clouds sailing above the mountains.
The doctors had insisted on keeping Sunny for a couple of days to flush the drugs from her system, as well as to rehydrate her and get her electrolytes back in order.
“So I’m still trapped,” she’d told me when I’d asked the attendant pushing my wheelchair to stop by her hospital room.
“But at least this time people are looking after you, not planning to kill you.”
She dug around in the eggs on her tray with a plastic fork. “You sure about that?”
I laughed and told her I would be back to visit her soon. As the attendant wheeled me from the room, we almost ran into Brad, who was hovering in the hallway.
“Go on in,” I said. “She’s back to her old self, it seems.”
He tugged at his collar. “That might not be so good for me.”
“Give it a shot.” I laid my hand on his forearm for a moment. “I know she appreciates everything you did to try to find her.”
“It was official business,” he replied, not meeting my eyes.
“Uh-huh. Well, take your official self in there and talk to her.” I squeezed his arm before releasing it. “I should thank you too.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, finally returning my smile. “But I can’t claim all the credit. I have a good team.”
“And they have a good leader.” I made a shooing motion with my hands. “Now go talk to Sunny.”
We had to take the elevator to the main floor to meet up with Aunt Lydia, who was talking to the hospital cashier about insurance and other matters.
“Where are Walt and Zelda?” I asked when the attendant rolled me up next to my aunt.
“I sent them home soon after we got here. Walt has to work today, you know.”
“Just wanted to thank them again, but I’m sure I’ll see them soon.” I shifted in the wheelchair and glanced across the room. There was a solitary figure slumped in one of the waiting area’s chairs. “Oh, Richard’s here.”
“Yes, and he was stuck in that uncomfortable chair all night. Once I called, he rushed home and picked me up and drove me here. But only family is allowed back in emergency area, so he couldn’t see you. Which didn’t make him very happy, I must say.”
Richard lifted his head. I waved, and he jumped to his feet and crossed the floor in a few long strides. As soon as he reached the wheelchair, he grabbed the chair’s arms, leaned over, and kissed me passionately on the lips.
“Now none of that. She’s supposed to remain quiet for a few days.” Aunt Lydia waved a folder of hospital forms at Richard.
“I’m not going to disturb her rest.” Richard released his grip on the wheelchair and stepped back.
“Well, a kiss like that would disturb mine,” Aunt Lydia said and smiled.
I smiled too. Because Richard was, ever so slightly, blushing.
He held up his hands. “I will be good.”
“In that case, I think you should come over tonight,” Aunt Lydia said. “We never did have that dinner, you know.”
“I’d love to. But are you sure you want to fix a meal after this?”
“Oh, I’ll just make one of my vegetable lasagnas. I can throw those together in my sleep.”
“And might have to,” I said, which earned a grin from Richard.
Aunt Lydia tucked the folder under her arm. “It will be fine. Richard, if you’ll pull your car around, we’ll get this young lady home, and then all of us can finally get a few hours of sleep. But set your alarm because we expect you on our doorstep at six o’clock tonight.”
“I promise,” Richard said, holding his hand to his heart. He headed for the hospital entrance’s revolving door as Aunt Lydia instructed the attendant to push me outside.
“I will tell you this, Amy,” she said as we waited under the main door canopy. “If you don’t want him, I might have to make a play. I mean, I know I’m a good deal older, but”—she winked at the attendant—“I’m not dead yet.”
The poor man choked on a cough, then muttered something about allergies.
When Richard pulled up to the curb and got out, I was hiccupping so hard from laughter that he had to rub my back to calm me down before I could climb into the car.
* * *
As soon as we got home, Aunt Lydia put me to bed. “Sleep,” she said. “I’ll do the same, at least for a few hours.”
I sat up as she plumped the pillows behind my head. “Sylvia is still out there somewhere, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but Brad told me they think she may have fled the country. Or is trying to, anyway. They found her car at the city airport in the long-term lot. No sign of her yet, though.”
“Glad I gave Brad that tip about Sylvia using aliases. I hope that helps their search.” I shook my head. “It’s unbelievable to think of her killing people just to protect a few business deals and keep some family secrets buried.”
“Not really. She loves money and was always obsessed with the family name. I guess exposing her grandfather and father’s involvement in the orphanage cover-up was something she couldn’t tolerate. Or, from what you’ve told me, something that some of her business partners wouldn’t accept.” Aunt Lydia stepped back and studied me. “I’m just glad she lost her nerve before she killed you. Or Sunny.”
“I don’t know if that’s what it was.” I chewed on a fingernail.
Not totally convinced she fled due to losing her nerve after killing Don, are you, Amy? It was almost like something scared her off. Like she did see something—or someone—in the trees and shot at it to protect herself.
But there hadn’t been anyone else there, at least not that Sunny or I had seen, so I wasn’t going to mention my silly notion to Aunt Lydia. Especially since I knew her concerns over unexplainable occurrences.
“Brad said they assigned a deputy to our street?”
“Yes, she’s been driving around the block ever since we got home. They also posted someone near the Fieldses’ farm.”
“Good.” I leaned back against the pillows. “Okay, I’ll try to sleep. Not sure I can, though.”
“I bet you will.” Aunt Lydia paused at my bedroom door. “Just close your eyes and clear your mind.”
“Yeah, that’s the hard part,” I replied as she left the room.
But I did fall asleep, waking only when Aunt Lydia reappeared at my door and softly called my name. “Almost six o’clock,” she said. “Well, it’s really five thirty, but I thought you might want a little time to dress before Richard gets here.”
“Gonna be casual,” I said, sitting up and rubbing at my eyes.
“Of course, dear. Just come down when you’re ready.”
I stared at the door. Aunt Lydia must’ve really, really been scared when I went missing. She wouldn’t be so accepting of my laid-back clothing choices otherwise. Especially not when we were expecting company.
I threw on some lightweight navy yog
a pants, tucking the spare cell phone Aunt Lydia had provided into one pocket. From my closet, I chose a gauzy yellow tunic decorated along the hem and neckline with small sunburst medallions. Sunny had brought it back with her from a trip to India. Somehow, it felt appropriate to wear something she’d given me. I didn’t bother with shoes.
By the time I walked into the kitchen, Richard was already at the counter, slicing a loaf of Italian bread while Aunt Lydia pulled her lasagna from the oven.
“Smells wonderful,” I said as my stomach growled. Of course, I hadn’t eaten anything except some hospital Jell-O since my frozen waffles the day before.
“Doesn’t it?” Richard walked over and wrapped his arm around me. “I almost brought wine, but then I remembered your poor head.” He gently kissed my temple. “It’s probably not the best choice to drink on top of a slight concussion.”
“A wise decision,” Aunt Lydia said. She set the casserole dish on a rack on the counter. “Need to let it cool for a bit, but go ahead and have a seat at the table. Forgive me for not setting up in the dining room, but with just the three of us . . .”
“We never eat in the dining room,” I told Richard as I pulled out my chair. “It’s like the front parlor. Nice to look at, but no one ever uses it.”
“This is better, anyway. More comfortable, I bet.” Richard replied, sitting next to me. He leaned back in his chair, raising the front legs off the floor. “By the way, what do you plan to do about the library? I guess there’s no one to run it with you and Sunny out of commission.”
“Just keep it closed for a few days. People should understand, given the circumstances. I hope to get back in there on Wednesday, anyway.”
Richard laid his hand over mine. “Don’t push it.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine by then.” I glanced over at Aunt Lydia, who was still bent over, both hands gripping the counter next to the stove. “Speaking of feeling fine, are you okay?”
“Sure, sure.” She turned around.
“You’ve gone pale as a ghost.” Richard dropped the front legs of his chair and leapt to his feet.
“I’m fine,” Aunt Lydia said, but I could tell this was a lie. Her eyes were glassy, and beads of sweat dotted her upper lip.
“No, you’re not.” I jumped up and ran to her side. “What is it?”
“Pressure,” she said, clutching her hand to her left shoulder. “Felt like a weight on my chest.” She waved Richard back. “No, no, I don’t need help. It’s mostly gone now. Probably just heartburn. Too much sampling of that spicy sauce.”
Richard gripped her right arm. “You need to go to the hospital.”
Aunt Lydia managed a little smile. “Just came from there.”
“And should go back. Amy, call nine-one-one.”
“No, absolutely not.” Aunt Lydia straightened. “I am feeling much better, and I won’t be dragged off on a stretcher. I will go if you drive me, but no ambulance.”
Richard looked dubious. “All right, if that’s the only way to get you there, I’ll drive you. But we leave now.”
“Ruined dinner,” Aunt Lydia said, but she allowed Richard to take her arm and escort her out of the room.
“Don’t worry about that.” Richard looked back at me as he led Aunt Lydia to the front door. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Coming with you, of course.”
“No,” said Aunt Lydia.
“No, you’re not. You’re going to stay here and rest, as the doctor ordered. Don’t argue”—Richard held up his free hand, palm out—“you know it’s best. Otherwise you’ll be stuck in one of those horrible waiting-room chairs, and no one can rest in those, trust me.”
“But Aunt Lydia . . .”
“Richard is right,” she said firmly. “You stay here. The deputy is outside, cruising the neighborhood, so you’ll be watched over. Just lock up after us and then grab something to eat. I’m sure you’re starving.” She fixed me with one of her most imperious stares. “It will honestly help me more, knowing you’re resting here.”
“All right,” I said stepping close enough to kiss her on the cheek. “But call me immediately with any news. You too,” I said, pointing my finger at Richard.
“We will.” Richard pressed his palm against my shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll call as soon as I can.”
He hurried Aunt Lydia out of the house. I stepped out onto the porch and watched his car pull away before I went back inside and locked the door behind me.
As I walked back toward the kitchen, something crashed behind me and made me spin around. The front parlor again. I took a deep breath before crossing to the parlor door and flicking on the lights.
A figurine lay in pieces on the rose-patterned rug. I stared at it, recognizing the item as one that always perched on top of the glass curio cabinet—the figure of a young woman drenched in frothy ruffles and ribbons. A rose-bedecked young lady with white hair falling in curls about her shoulders, holding a now-shattered shepherdess hook. I crossed to the cabinet and knelt down. One door hung open, and a couple of the leather-bound books had once again spilled onto the floor.
I picked up the top book. It was the slender maroon volume, now covered in fragments of porcelain. I brushed off the bits of shattered figurine, then held the book by the spine and gently shook it to remove any fragments from inside.
A folded packet of paper fell from the book and onto my knees.
I stared at it for a moment. Standing slowly, I brushed porcelain dust from my tunic and pants before I unfolded the pages with trembling fingers.
Because I knew what this was. I’d seen paper like this before.
The lights in the parlor flickered. I clutched the packet to my breast and ran out of the room, pausing under the hall chandelier. As I stared at my hands I realized I held two or three pages, pressed together. I used my fingernail to gently pry the pages apart.
The handwriting on the front was familiar—a distinctive, spidery script. Eleanora Cooper had written this. I held the first page closer to my eyes.
It was a remedy for aching joints. I peered at the second page. A salve for burns. The third page was the same, harmless, instructions—this recipe detailing how to create a pain reliever from willow bark.
The missing pages from the herbal, written in Eleanora’s hand. Yes, they existed, as Rose Baker had claimed. But they had nothing to do with any type of poison.
I flipped the first page over and gasped. There was additional writing on the reverse side, but in another hand. A bold script that looked nothing like Eleanora’s delicate handwriting.
I did what the law would not, it said. I obtained justice for Daniel.
It was signed with a large, sweeping, capital R.
I pressed the pages to my heart. I knew what I held.
A statement of guilt. A confession, signed by my Great-Grandmother Rose.
I leaned against the wall under the stairs, the pages clutched in my shaking hands, staring blankly at the paintings that lined the opposite wall.
Eleanora Cooper had not come back to claim her house and lands because she could not.
She couldn’t return to Taylorsford because she never left.
I focused on one of Uncle Andrew’s lovely landscapes as my mind spun with ideas about where Rose could have hidden Eleanora’s body. Because Rose had murdered her rival, I was sure of it. But how could a girl of seventeen have committed such a crime and covered it up for the rest of her life? How had no one guessed her secret until now?
Footsteps shook me from the whirlpool of my swirling thoughts. I turned toward the sound. “Aunt Lydia?”
But why were the footsteps coming from the back of the house?
“Richard?” I called out, my voice shaking.
“No, sorry. It’s me,” said my cousin Sylvia.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I backed away as she moved forward. “How did you get in here?”
“Oh, your Great-Grandmother Rose gave her brother, William, a key to this
house, and it’s been kept in my family. Passed down to my father and then me. And Lydia never did change the locks.”
“You were behind the break-in. The sheriff’s office thought Aunt Lydia must’ve left the door open, but she didn’t. And I suspected Kurt Kendrick, but he had nothing to do with it either.”
“No, that was me. I was searching for something but broke that stupid picture frame and then had to mess things up to make it look like a real thief had done it.” Sylvia was holding her right arm at an odd angle. She tugged down the cashmere sweater draped over her lower arm. “Anyway, why do you think I would need Kurt’s help for anything? We are acquaintances, nothing more. Honestly, I don’t require some man to fight my battles. And Kurt is not someone I’d mess with, to tell you the truth. There are rumors . . . Well, never mind. I have more important matters to consider. Like how to slip out of town and the country without drawing any unwanted attention. Such an annoyance, but easily dealt with. Just like you, my dear.”
“There’s a deputy in a cruiser out front,” I said.
“Which is why I came in the back. Same key, you know.” Sylvia’s smile thinned her lips into a straight line. “You’re pretty clever, aren’t you? Breaking out of that tack room somehow and getting away.”
“Sunny and I worked together.”
“I’m sure. She’s a little too smart for her own good as well. But none of that matters now. I’ve made my escape plans, and they are much more clever than you could ever imagine.”
“You left your car at the airport.”
Sylvia tipped her head to one side as she studied me. “Yes, that was part of it. I rented another one under an assumed name. I already had an alias set up, as I mentioned before.”
“Just in case you decided to murder someone?”
“No.” Sylvia drew this word out as if speaking to someone who didn’t quite understand the English language. “For previous business dealings. It came in handy a couple of times, especially for some tricky international deals.”
“I see. For all those shady transactions you’ve brokered before. It does make sense, now that I think about it. All that money you’ve accumulated from deals no one in town was involved in or really understood. So you have a false passport, I suppose.”
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