Hidden in the Shadows

by T. L. Haddix

  Finishing the glass of wine, he opened the envelope. As he read the contents, he slowly came up off the barstool. When their meaning sank in, he started cursing.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sitting at his kitchen bar, Wyatt was in absolute shock. The contents of the letter he’d just opened were very similar to the letter he’d seen at Vestra’s. Only the topic of the blackmail attempt was different. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out how the extortionist had discovered the secret. It certainly wasn’t something he had ever shared with another soul. That someone had managed to ferret out something so private shook him to the core.

  Once his initial adrenaline rush had passed and he calmed down enough to think, his common sense quickly reasserted itself. Dinner plans discarded, the salmon left in the fridge, he ran through all his options and finally gave in and called the one person he could rely on for discretion—Ethan. The detective was at home, but assured Wyatt he could be there in less than thirty minutes.

  While he waited for Ethan to arrive, Wyatt pulled the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies together and started mixing. The methodical process of following certain steps to create an end product others enjoyed helped him stay calm and center his emotions. By the time Ethan arrived, the first batch was cooling.

  Mix alerted him before Ethan ever got out of his truck, and Wyatt met him at the door as he came up the steps. “Come on in.”

  Ethan bent to give Mix a good amount of belly scratching, then straightened and followed Wyatt into the kitchen. “You’ve been baking.”

  “I have. Take a seat. Do you want some milk and cookies?” Without waiting for a response, Wyatt plunked a plate loaded with warm cookies down in front of him, followed by a tall glass of milk.

  “Uh, sure. Sounds good.”

  When the timer beeped, Wyatt turned back to the oven and pulled out another tray of cookies. “Have you had dinner?”

  “No. What’s going on?”

  Wyatt took his time answering, trying to figure out how to tell Ethan what he needed to say. Deciding to cook the salmon, he turned on the broiler, then pulled the ingredients he needed out of the fridge and started prepping the fish. He told Ethan about Vestra’s letter as he worked.

  Ethan's surprise showed on his face. “Now, that’s interesting. What do you think the chances are that she’ll just pay it?”

  “Unfortunately, I’d say the chances are pretty high.” He put the salmon under the broiler and turned to the pressure cooker.

  Draining the glass of milk, Ethan blew out a tense breath. “Well, whoever this person is, they’ve chosen their victims well. Vestra isn’t the only one who got a letter. So did Raven Lynch.”

  Wyatt paused in the middle of ladling out bowls of potato soup. “You mean there’s another one?”

  “Yeah. Raven came to Beth on Monday.” He filled Wyatt in on the contents of that letter, as well as the forum and the backlash from his family. “Thanks,” he said, accepting a bowl of soup when Wyatt handed it to him. “So I’ve got Maria working on researching the forum.”

  “Maria. Damn it.” With careful movements, Wyatt took the salmon out of the oven and plated it. He handed Ethan his, and then took the half-empty bottle of wine out of the cooler. “Do you mind?”

  “No, but shouldn’t you eat something? This is excellent, by the way.”

  Coming around the island, Wyatt sat down beside the dark-haired detective. He took a couple of bites of the salmon and soup, then pushed them away. “I had a letter waiting for me when I got home this evening.”

  For a long moment, Ethan just looked at him. Then, he carefully laid down his fork. “You mean a blackmail letter?”

  Wyatt nodded. “That’s exactly what I mean.” He went into the dining room and grabbed the letter. Returning to the kitchen, he handed the letter and envelope to Ethan. He’d placed them in a clear evidence bag, but the body of the letter was still visible. While Ethan read it, Wyatt went to the sink and stood looking out the window into the darkness beyond, hands braced on the edge of the counter. When the detective finished reading, Wyatt could feel the weight of his shocked gaze.

  “I don’t …” Ethan paused, then tried again. “I… could I have some water, please?”

  “Sure.” Wyatt got him a glass and the pitcher of cold water out of the fridge.

  Ethan drank deeply, then asked, “Is it true?” There was no censure in the younger man’s gaze, only concern.

  “I don’t know.”

  Ethan picked up the letter and read it aloud.

  “With power comes responsibility. A county sheriff is very powerful in his realm. How would it look at election time if your constituents found out you helped cover up your wife’s assisted suicide? What do you think they’ll see as your motivation? $250,000 would go a long way toward keeping the evidence buried. Further instructions will follow soon.”

  Ethan laid down the letter. “Why don’t you tell me the whole story?”

  Moving to the French doors that opened onto the deck off the kitchen, Wyatt shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Mix came over and leaned up against his leg with a soft whine. “You need to go out, buddy?” He opened the door and watched as the dog dashed into the fenced-in side yard.

  “You know Julie had ALS. Most everyone believes it killed her. I don’t know if it did, or if she took her own life, but I’ve always suspected the latter.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He shrugged, and let Mix back in, drying the dog’s damp paws with a towel he kept by the door for that purpose. “I’d gone out of town to a conference up in Indianapolis. Her sister, Marsha, was staying with her while I was gone.”

  “That was the weekend she died?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you think Marsha helped her kill herself?”

  He sat down beside Ethan, crossing his arms over his chest with a sigh. “Yeah, I do. I’ve always believed that. Julie was in the care of Hospice by that point. Her arms and hands were pretty near useless. Her speech, her swallowing, they were also starting to really be affected by then. She’d had a feeding tube placed about three weeks before she died, and it really wore on her emotionally. She was down, and I didn’t want to leave her, but she became so agitated when I told her I was staying home, her nurse thought it would be best if I went. I gave in to keep her calm.”

  “Okay. And you don’t think she could have managed it herself?”

  “No, Ethan. She hadn’t been able to use her hands for at least two months prior to her death.”

  “You don’t think it was just the disease running its course?”

  Wyatt rubbed a hand over his face. “It could have been, but my gut tells me no.”

  “How was it that no one ever questioned her death, then? What about her Hospice nurse?”

  Match wandered in just then, and Wyatt got up to feed both animals. “ALS is an unpredictable demon. Julie had sudden onset of her symptoms throughout the illness, most of the time having clusters of them appear, and everyone assumed that’s what happened. Just that the new symptoms were fatal ones. If anyone had suspicions, they never mentioned them to me. Maybe it would have looked odd if her nurse hadn’t been here when Julie had her meltdown about me leaving town, but she was. I always wondered if that—tantrum, I guess—wasn’t one last gift, to protect me in case there were questions. After all, the nurse knew I had wanted to stay.”

  Ethan let Match jump into his lap, and he stroked her soft fur for a few minutes before speaking. “Tell me it’s none of my business, but why wouldn’t Julie ask you to help her? If suicide was her goal, I mean. Had she ever mentioned it?”

  “No. Not to me.” Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose. “But then again, our marriage was a shell by that point. I’d never planned on having to talk to anyone about this, and it’s a little tough. It’s embarrassing to have to admit, and I’m ashamed that I’m bothered by it after all these years.”

  Ethan frowned. “Why would you be embarrassed? You didn’t play a
ny part in her death, did you?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “That’s not the humiliating part. Julie had been having an affair. Up until about nine months before she died, she’d been seriously involved with a doctor in town.” Standing, he moved to the refrigerator and got out a beer. After twisting off the lid, he took a deep pull.

  “Damn, I’m sorry.” Ethan shook his head, clearly not sure what else to say.

  “It is what it is, son. I wasn’t the world’s best husband.”

  The detective was taken aback. “If you tell me you cheated on her, I’m not going to believe it.”

  Wyatt’s smile was bitter. “No, I never cheated on her with another woman, but I was neglectful. It takes a lot of energy to be sheriff, especially when I was first elected, and my focus shifted off us and onto the department.”

  Ethan snorted. “And she couldn’t whack you over the head and get you to see reason? Bull hockey. If I’ve learned nothing else the last few months, it’s that marriage is a compromise. There is no ‘you’ or ‘me,’ it’s ‘us.’”

  “I appreciate the support, more than I can say, but I do carry some responsibility.”

  “When did you find out about the affair?” Ethan asked.

  He shrugged. “About three months before she died. God, she was bitter. They’d been seeing each other for about three years at that point, and when her illness started progressing, he lost interest.”

  “Who was it?”

  Wyatt told him, then added, “He left not long after she died, moved to California or Arizona, somewhere out west. In any event, the more pressing problem we have to deal with is what to do about this.” He thumped the letter. “It appears that our populace is in the crosshairs of a well-informed extortionist.”

  “You aren’t kidding. If we have three known victims, I wonder how many people are out there who haven’t come forward.”

  The sheriff stretched. “Well, I’ll tell you this. I’m not paying a dime. If this comes out and costs me the next election, so be it. I won’t give in to these tactics.”

  “You think it’ll come to that?”

  “I hope not, but who knows?” Wyatt answered.

  Ethan studied him. “Who else knows about your suspicions, that Julie’s death might have been a suicide?”

  “I’ve never told another living soul before tonight. Not even Marsha, when I confronted her after Julie died. I never spoke the words aloud. I was afraid to. If her death was self-inflicted, Marsha would have to know, though. I’ll have to talk to her about this whole mess. We haven’t spoken since a couple weeks after the funeral.”

  “That’s going to be fun, then. How do you want to handle this, legally speaking?”

  “You’ve already got Maria working on the forum tie-in, you said?” When the detective nodded, Wyatt cursed. At Ethan’s questioning look, he said, “I’d just rather not have her involved in my dirty laundry. I guess that’s my vanity talking.” He moved to the sink and started scraping off the dishes.

  “You’re allowed a little vanity, especially when you’re dealing with something like this.”

  Wyatt moved his shoulders in a half-shrug. “I guess. Let’s call a meeting tomorrow morning with Stacy and Maria. I have the feeling we’re going to need our best minds on this one. Speaking of that, why don’t you tell Beth about this situation? I’d prefer it if you didn’t give her a lot of details, but I’d like to see what she thinks.” Bagging up most of the cookies, he pushed them across to Ethan. “How’s she handling the forum thing?”

  With a sigh, Ethan opened the bag and took out a cookie. “It’s hurt her deeply, the way Mom and James acted about the whole thing. That’s going to be hard for me to forgive. The last few weeks have been rough enough without their stabbing her in the heart like that. She’s been sick, and then there was the anniversary of the shooting. Hell, I got home today, and she was sound asleep on the couch. She said she was just tired, but this is Beth we’re talking about. Sometimes I think she has ADHD, she has so much energy.”

  Wyatt pursed his lips. “Is she still nauseated? Moodier than normal?”

  Finishing the cookie, Ethan shrugged. “A little nauseated, yeah. She’s still not drinking coffee. And like I said, it’s been a rough few weeks. Why?”

  “It’s just that those are classic pregnancy symptoms.”

  Ethan just stared at him, dumbfounded. “But—”

  Wyatt laughed, coming around the counter to clap him on the shoulder. “I can’t believe the thought didn’t cross your mind.”

  Shaking his head, Ethan swallowed. “If she’s pregnant… oh, man. She wants a baby so badly, and even though we’ve only been married a few months… we’ve been trying, but no-go yet. It’s starting to get to her. God, Wyatt. Pregnant?”

  Wyatt held up his hands. “She might not be, but I think it’s worth entertaining the thought. And I’ve been in your shoes, son. A big part of what happened with my marriage to Julie was that she couldn’t have children. When that’s something a woman wants, and she can’t have it? It wears on her, hard, makes her feel like less of a woman. Every mother she sees with a child, every baby, stabs her in the heart. It’s not easy on a husband, either, not being able to do anything to help. Especially if he wants kids as much as she does.”

  Ethan ran his hands through his hair. “What should I do?”

  “I’d advise you to keep quiet and just watch her for a couple weeks. If she is pregnant, it’ll become obvious soon enough. If she isn’t, then you won’t have gotten her hopes up.”

  After the detective had composed himself, Wyatt walked him to the door and handed him his coat. “I’ll see you in the morning. Maybe we can all brainstorm and come up with something.”

  As he shrugged into his coat, Ethan asked, “Speaking of women, when are you going to ask Maria out?”

  Wyatt scowled. “What in the world makes you say that? Why would I ask her out? I’m old enough to be her father, literally. She’s what, twenty-eight? Twenty-nine? I’m fifty-one. I’m actually a couple years older than her father, come to think of it.”

  The detective just smiled. “I say that because I have eyes in my head, and I have brilliant deductive skills. Like I told her, I’d really hoped when you two came in to Lori’s the other night that you’d been out together.” When Wyatt’s cheeks burned red, Ethan couldn’t prevent a small laugh from escaping.

  “What the hell do you mean, like you told her? And even if I were interested, not saying I am, she’d never be.”

  “Oh, I think you might be very surprised, Boss, by how she feels about you.”

  Flustered, Wyatt shook his head. “Just go home to your wife and quit trying to play Cupid.”

  Long after Ethan left, his words played through Wyatt’s mind. He wondered just what all had been said between Maria and the detective, but he knew Ethan probably would never tell him. Wyatt wouldn’t expect him to. That didn’t keep him from wondering, though.

  Chapter Twelve

  Even though it was barely seven o’clock when Wyatt made it into the office the next morning, he’d just sat down behind his desk when Stacy knocked on his door. Her face was etched with fatigue and concern, and she carried a large cup of coffee.

  “Do you have a few minutes?”

  He motioned her inside. “What’s up?”

  She yawned as she slumped into one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Sorry. The suicide from yesterday? It might not be quite as straightforward as we thought.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?” When she handed him an evidence envelope that contained a by-now familiar style letter, he cursed under his breath. “Where the Sam Hill did you get this?”

  “The good reverend’s wife found it crumpled in the trash.” She took a long pull from her coffee.

  “Rough night?”

  She snorted. “Short night. I got home late, to bed late, and hadn’t been asleep long when Mrs. Jones called at five. Poor woman, I don’t think she even went to bed last night. Anyhow, she started cle
aning his office to settle her nerves, and she found that. She was shattered when I got to the house.”

  Wyatt fingered the bag. The letter was folded in half so he couldn’t see what it contained. “What does it say?”

  “It’s an attempt at blackmail. Apparently, the reverend was having an affair.”

  “Damned son of a bitch.” When his words startled Stacy, he apologized. “Do you have anything urgent scheduled for this morning?”

  “No, why?”

  He reached for the phone on his desk. “Because we’re having a powwow. There are at least three more extortion notes out there.” Dialing Ethan’s number, he smiled a little when Beth answered.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Moore. Is your husband handy?”

  She laughed. “Good morning back, Sheriff. As a matter of fact, he’s very handy, thanks for asking. He’s also in the shower. Do you need him?”

  “Not if you don’t mind passing on a message. It’s about what we discussed last night. Can you ask him if he can make it in by eight at the latest?” Wyatt heard water running and guessed she’d gone into the bathroom.

  “I’ll be glad to. Honey, Wyatt’s on the phone. Can you be in no later than eight?” Ethan’s response was muffled, and the sound of the water faded away. “He says he’ll head that way in about ten minutes,” Beth said.

  “Okay. Thanks. Oh, and tell him I’ll buy his breakfast.” As he dialed Maria’s number, he eyed Stacy. “Can you get the small conference room set up for us? And have you eaten?” He held up a finger when the call went to voice mail. After he left a message for Maria to contact him on his cell phone, he stood.

  Stacy preceded him out into his assistant’s office. “Yes to the room, no to the food. I’ve not had time to do anything but grab coffee.”

  He shrugged into his coat. “I’ll head over to the Brown Bag and grab something for all of us, then. What sounds good? And what would Maria eat, do you think?”

  “Any of their breakfast paninis would be fine. Let me grab some cash.”