Madison cocked her head at the subtle change in her sister’s tone as she mentioned Agent Wells.
She’s attracted to him too.
Her mouth twitched as she studied Emily. How long would it take them to realize it was mutual? Madison wasn’t jealous; Agent Wells was attractive but not her type; he kept himself restrained behind his cool exterior.
The agent’s and her sister’s mutual attraction was a moot point. Any professional would know better than to become involved with a witness in a murder investigation.
“It got pretty heated in there,” Madison said, just to keep the conversation going. “Sounds like no one knows what’s going on.”
“Two days haven’t even passed since they died,” Emily snapped as she glared at her sister. “This is real life, not TV. Murders aren’t solved in an episode.”
Madison lifted her chin. “I’m well aware of how long Lindsay’s been dead.” The words were spoken to dig at her sister, but they pierced her own heart. Her breath seized at the sharp pain, and she looked away.
She felt Emily’s perceptive gaze on her and fought to get her mourning under control.
“It’s like losing another sister,” Emily said.
Sister . . .
“Tara’s not dead.” Madison refused to believe it. Anger emboldened her. She brushed her hair off her shoulder and met Emily’s stare. “Why does no one care or talk about Tara? Why did we let her push us out of her life?”
Her sister’s face went blank. “Her life, her decision. If she doesn’t want anything to do with us, so be it.”
Madison glared. “I can’t believe you’re still that cold.”
“I simply said what everyone else is thinking.”
“This is our sister we’re talking about. Don’t you care?”
“Tara left; she had that right. Something made her decide to put a lot of space between us and herself, and until she wants to talk about it, it’s none of our business.”
“But what on earth would make her never contact any of us? Don’t you ever wonder?”
“No.” Emily spun around to her papers. “Let it go, Madison.”
Madison stared at her back. This wasn’t the Emily she knew. Emily released spiders outdoors instead of killing them. She let senior citizens talk her ear off for an hour at the diner without interrupting once. She was blunt, but Emily proved over and over that she was a caring human being. Except when it came to Tara.
“What did Tara do to you?” Madison whispered as the hair rose on her arms. Something wasn’t being said.
“Go to bed, Madison.”
“You’re not a fucking post without feelings. Why will no one talk about this? Why am I the only person who’s bothered to search for our sister?”
Emily said nothing.
Suddenly light-headed, Madison took a half step back, understanding that secrets were being kept and it was possible that lies had been told about Tara for decades. She touched the bulge of the watch in her pocket. More lies.
What is going on?
17
Madison guzzled an energy drink for breakfast as she quickly handled the mess in the mansion’s kitchen and kept an eye on the time. She needed to be out the door in five minutes to get to the diner by six thirty. Her aunts had left dishes on the counter from what appeared to be apple pie and vanilla ice cream. Dessert must have been needed after last night’s meeting.
“Morning, dear. Is there coffee yet?” Dory yawned. Her white hair was flat against her head on one side, and mismatched slippers peeked from below her faded chenille robe. Thea and Vina had the same robe.
“I’ll get it started for you.” Madison snatched the carafe and held it under the faucet. “I don’t make coffee the mornings I work. I get mine at the diner.”
“Oh. I guess Thea makes it on those days. It’s always ready when I come down.” Dory peered at the clock on the microwave. “My goodness. I didn’t realize it was so early.” She rubbed her backside. “My sciatica bothered me all night. Nothing I take seems to touch the pain. It’s been good for months, so I don’t know why it’s suddenly acting up.”
Madison knew all about Dory’s sciatica woes. The doctor had assured Madison that her great-aunt had the healthy spine of a fifteen-year-old and suggested the lower pain was from something else. Madison measured coffee grounds into the filter. “Maybe it flared up from those hard pews last night. They always make me sore.”
Her aunt’s mouth opened in a large O. “I bet you’re right. It was impossible to get comfortable during that meeting. Thea threatened to sit elsewhere if I didn’t hold still. You’re a smart girl.” She chuckled and patted Madison’s arm. “You look very nice today.”
Dory always gave her a compliment when Madison wore the wide-legged swishy jumpsuit. It felt like weightless silk against her skin, and she knew few people could pull off the thick black and white vertical stripes the way she could. Emily hated the jumpsuit. Which might have been part of the reason Madison had put it on that morning. A slicked-back high pony along with nude makeup—except for her favorite fire engine–red lipstick—completed her look du jour.
“Is Emily up?” Dory asked.
“No. She doesn’t work until later.”
Madison closed the top of the coffee maker and hit the START button, wondering if Dory knew anything about her father’s pocket watch. Like how in the hell something that was missing for about twenty years had suddenly turned up in Emily’s drawer.
“Dory . . . do you remember that pocket watch that Dad always carried around?”
“Of course.” She tilted her head, sympathy in her eyes. “Have you been thinking about your father?”
“Sometimes. I remember how upset Mom was about its disappearance.”
A wistful expression crossed her aunt’s face. “She was crushed, the poor thing. I think it was the one thing that she truly missed of your father’s. It would have been a good keepsake.”
“It never turned up?”
Confusion wrinkled the soft skin of Dory’s forehead. “Not that I know of. I think I’d remember that.”
The conversation wasn’t revealing the information Madison wanted.
“It was horrible what was done to your father, leaving you girls with nothing. Even he didn’t deserve that.”
Even he?
“You think so?” Madison asked casually, watching the coffee start to stream into the pot.
“Oh yes. Even with the kind of man he was, that sort of cruelty shouldn’t happen to anyone.”
Chills lifted the hair on Madison’s forearms. No one had ever spoken of her father in those terms.
“What did people say?”
Dory yawned again. “Is the coffee almost done?”
“It’s barely started. Give it a few minutes. You were going to tell me what people said about Dad.”
“Oh, you know. Just talk. It meant nothing.” She gazed longingly at the coffee maker.
Has Dory never made coffee?
“I know people used to spread rumors.” Madison knew nothing of the sort, but she hoped it would fuel the chatty moment Dory had started.
“Oh yes. People are cruel. Your poor mother. We all begged her not to marry him.”
Madison’s head spun. Again. She’d never heard such talk.
“Poor Mom. How did she handle it?”
Dory waved a dismissive hand. “Like she handled everything. She did whatever the hell she wanted. Look what it got her.”
Is Dory drunk? Madison subtly leaned toward her aunt and sniffed the air. Nothing.
“I’m so sorry, dear. It was very unfair to you children. Tara most of all.”
What was unfair?
Madison didn’t want Dory to stop but knew the conversation was treading on thin ice. Either Madison would hear something she did not want to hear, or Dory would lose her train of thought and the moment would be over. “Why do you think it was the worst for Tara?”
“Well, she was older. People viewed and treated her as an adult.” She sho
ok her head sadly. “She was still a child. It was so wrong.”
“It was wrong.” Madison had no idea what she’d just agreed with.
“It was the money, you know. Everything was always about the money.” Dory sighed. “But that had been gone for years. No one knew. Even today they still believe we’re rich.” She opened a cupboard and frowned. “Oh, my cows. Are there any Pop-Tarts left? The cinnamon ones are perfect with coffee.”
Madison was lost, and she suspected Dory was too. She automatically opened the adjoining cupboard and handed Dory the Pop-Tarts box. “People like to gossip about the Barton money?” Madison already knew this was true. She’d heard the gossip all her life.
“Among other things, but it was your father they loved to gossip about the most.”
She wanted to scream in frustration at the rambling. Dory struggled with the shiny foil package. Madison took it, ripped it open, and handed her a pastry. “They were wrong about him.”
“Oh, no. The rumors were spot-on.” Dory bit a corner of the frosted Pop-Tart and closed her eyes in satisfaction. “He married your mother because he thought we were rich. Up to the day he died, he thought we were still hiding money from him and was bitter about it.”
Madison’s energy drained out of her limbs in a rush. Her father had been loving and fun, not like this person Dory was describing. Is Dory telling the truth? Some conversations with her were like this. A scattered bunch of memories tied up in knots.
A memory surfaced.
Six-year-old Madison couldn’t pull her gaze from the beautiful doll in the glass case. She, Emily, and their father had stopped at a neighbor’s garage sale. As her dad looked through the tools, she stared at the doll, ignoring the books and videos that Emily was trying to show her.
“These are only a quarter each,” Emily said. “Dad won’t have a problem with that.” She noticed Madison’s fascination. “Ohhh. She’s beautiful.” Emily walked around the table to check the back of the glass case. “Seventy-five dollars!”
Madison knew that was bad.
“That’s a collector’s item,” said the owner as he approached. “Not a toy. But you like it, don’t you?” he asked Madison.
Madison could only nod.
“Well, let’s get your dad over here.” The owner spotted her father. “Hey, Lincoln. Your little girl found something she likes.”
Her father walked over, holding a hammer and saw, his smile wide for his girls. Madison crossed her fingers. He looked at the back of the glass case, and his smile faded. He eyed the owner. “Is that a joke?”
“Nope. She’s actually worth more than that.”
“Sorry, hon,” her father said. “Find a new book, okay?”
Disappointment crushed her.
“Aw, come on, Lincoln. Everybody knows you’ve got Barton money.”
Madison stumbled backward at the instant fury in her father’s eyes as he turned to the owner. Emily saw it and grabbed Madison’s hand, yanking her toward the driveway. She’d left the books and videos. “Let’s wait out here,” Emily said in a cheery voice.
Something was wrong.
Her father came out seconds later, no tools in hand, his smile back. “Nothing today, eh?” He took Madison’s other hand, and the three of them walked to his car.
She must have imagined the anger in his eyes.
Madison stared at the coffee maker.
Had Emily been protecting her from her father’s anger?
“I think there’s enough for a cup.” Dory greedily eyed the pot.
“Only if you like your coffee super strong and bitter.”
“In that case, I’ll wait. But please hurry up.”
Is she talking to me or the pot?
“The rumors were that Dad married Mom for money?” Madison tried to steer her aunt back on track.
“That and those horrible things.”
“What horrible things?” Madison’s voice cracked.
“Those people.” Dory’s voice lowered. “Those awful people.”
“Was Chet Carlson one of those people?” Madison’s hate for her father’s killer burned anew in her gut.
“Of course not.” Dory was adamant.
“Who, then?” She forced the words out. Why would Dory defend Chet Carlson? The man sat in prison for her father’s death.
“They’re gone. Most weren’t from around here to start with.”
“That’s good.” Madison didn’t know what else to say. The conversation had completely confused her as she analyzed every word out of her great-aunt’s mouth from a dozen angles.
“It is.” She squeezed Madison’s upper arm and smiled. “One of these days, Tara will be back.”
“Why do you think Tara hasn’t returned?” Madison wondered if she should wake Dory up early more often. Yes, her conversation was a scattered stream of subjects, but Tara and her father had been mentioned more times this morning than in all of the past year.
Is it her medication? Madison wasn’t sure how many drugs her aunt took. She had put complete trust in the pharmacist to notify her if Dory had been prescribed medications she shouldn’t be taking at the same time. Dory saw dozens of doctors, but fortunately there was only one pharmacy in town. The pharmacist was well acquainted with Dory and her maladies, real and imagined. Madison made sure the pharmacist also had a list of the “natural” medications Dory used.
“Well, you know how Tara can be. More stubborn than you and Emily added together. She broke our hearts when she left.”
Madison was well aware of her sister’s disappearing act. It’d taken her years to convince herself that Tara hadn’t left because Madison was a super snoop who couldn’t stay out of Tara’s room.
“She’ll be back one of these days. When she’s ready.” Dory pointed emphatically at the pot. “I’ll take a cup now.”
Madison poured the coffee and checked the time. She would be late if she didn’t leave now.
Leo can handle the diner if I’m a little late.
This conversation was too extraordinary to walk out on.
“Dory,” she asked carefully, “do you know why Tara left so soon after Dad’s death?”
Her aunt had sat down at the table in the kitchen and was alternating bites of Pop-Tart with sips of coffee. “I don’t, dear,” she said between bites. “Probably too much pressure. It was a hard time for all of us.”
“It doesn’t seem callous to you? I mean . . . she didn’t even call when Mom died.”
“She didn’t call, did she? Tara has to live with that guilt. Your poor mother.”
Dory had referred to Madison’s mother as “poor” one too many times, and anger provoked Madison’s next words. “You know Mom was manic-depressive, but you talk about her as if she was constantly miserable. I remember her laughing, taking us for hikes, and swimming in the river. She may have had down times, but she was happy.”
Dory blinked in confusion. “I’m not saying she wasn’t. She was a wonderful mother to you girls most of the time, but she put up with a lot from your father. He was older than her, you know. She was like a child in their relationship.”
Dory checked the hallway behind her before leaning toward Madison. “He seduced her before they married,” she whispered like a conspirator.
Many images of her mother and father sharing passionate embraces flashed through Madison’s memories. She was positive it hadn’t been a one-sided attraction.
“He was very possessive of that pocket watch,” Dory told her cup of coffee.
Their conversation’s backward leap startled Madison.
Is this what it’s like to be inside Dory’s head?
“I didn’t know what that watch was until Vina explained it to me.” The white head solemnly wagged back and forth. “She was glad it vanished.”
“It was just a watch.” Right?
Dory pinned her with a schoolteacher stare that pierced deep into Madison’s brain. “It was a link to his past. His grandfather was that way, and he passed it to his
grandson. We didn’t need that type around here,” she lectured.
Madison had no words.
Pity filled her aunt’s features. “The hate and anger, Brenda. He’s feeding it with those meetings and won’t listen to reason from any of us. No good can come of it.”
She thinks I’m Mom.
Dory looked at the clock again. “You’re going to be late. That’s not fair to Leo.”
Madison grabbed her purse and stooped to kiss her aunt on the cheek. She lingered, full of questions but not knowing how to put them into words. “Love you, Dory.”
She darted out the door into the cold dark, pulling her hood up against the light rain. Once in the car, she pulled the pocket watch out of her purse and opened it, seeing nothing but the initials and the foreign phrase. Flipping it over, she closely scanned the back and then the front again, seeking any bumps or cracks. Nothing. Wedging a fingernail into a groove on the side, she tried to lever the clock side apart. It didn’t budge.
It was a watch. Nothing else.
She eyed the foreign words, remembering that she had accepted her father’s translation as truth. Grabbing her phone, she typed the words into Google. Non Silba Sed Anthar.
“Not for oneself, but for others,” she read aloud.
That sounds selfless and kind.
She scrolled further, scanning the results.
This can’t be right.
Her heart in her throat, she opened web page after web page, finding multiple confirmations.
The lovely-sounding phrase was a common slogan of the KKK.
18
Zander had been working at the Clatsop County sheriff’s office for an hour when Ava showed up. She walked in with a glare and a coffee holder with two cups. “Why didn’t you tell me you were starting at the butt crack of dawn?”
“Didn’t see the point of waking you.” He’d woken at 4:00 a.m., unable to go back to sleep. After doing what work he could from his laptop, he’d gone to the sheriff’s office and requested the murder book on Lincoln Mills, Emily’s father. He also hadn’t called Ava because he didn’t want to explain why he was looking at an old solved case when they had three unsolved deaths.
He was curious about what made Emily Mills tick. Understanding what had happened to her father might give him some insight into what made her so intriguing to him. Besides the obvious physical attraction.
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