by Mary Birk
“I’m just asking about Anne.”
“I don’t think she’s involved. Anne was the one who pushed to get Andrew to call the police. I don’t think he would have done that if she hadn’t been so insistent. But Shelton is right that it looks strange that the two of them were the last ones there with the girl and then Anne finds her body in an out-of-the-way place.”
“It looks bad, that’s a fact.”
The chief was watching him. “So you’re staying in town?”
“I think I’d better. Keep an eye on Shelton and the investigation.”
“Good idea. I have a copy of the recordings of both of Anne’s interviews, if you want to listen to them.”
“Thanks, I’ll take you up on that. Okay if I use one of your machines to listen to it?”
“Sure. Use the one in the conference room.”
“If it’s all right with you, I’ll do it now before Shelton gets back.”
“No problem. Let me know if you need anything. Where are you staying?”
Good question.
“I’ll let you know.”
Chapter 31
ANNE LAY ON TOP of the covers on her bed at the Mermaids, the soft white afghan her grandmother had knitted for her keeping off the evening chill. Her head ached. She couldn’t get the dead little girl on the beach, and the live little girl she had known, out of her mind. It was difficult to believe that she had started her day expecting to hear that Lenore was safely back home and ended the same day being interrogated about finding the Lenore’s body. Not just interrogated, but practically accused of being involved. She cringed and her face heated when she remembered the ugly way the FBI agent had talked about her relationships with Andrew and Terrence.
Meg had called earlier to let her know that Dr. Kempton had given Andrew something to make him sleep. She would have gone to be with Andrew, but the fatigue that followed the shock of finding Lenore kept her from moving, and she knew there was nothing she could do to help him right now. Maybe she’d already done too much. Maybe she should never have encouraged Andrew to call the FBI. Maybe calling them had actually gotten Lenore killed.
She lifted her cell phone from the nightstand and turned it over in her hands. She thought of Terrence’s call the night before and went to her call log. Her finger highlighted his number on the list and, taking a deep breath, she pressed the call button.
He picked up immediately, as if he had been expecting a call. “Reid here.”
“It’s me.” Me? Why had she said that? Like she called him all the time. “It’s Anne, I mean.”
There was silence on the other end. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to her. Maybe he’d decided that coming out here had been a mistake. Maybe by now Shelton had told him she was a suspect and he wouldn’t want to talk to her.
Finally he spoke. “Hold on a minute. I’m just getting somewhere where I can talk.” After another pause, his voice returned. “I’m glad you called. How are you doing, lass?”
“Not so good.” The horror of the day’s events ran through her mind. “Terrible, in fact.”
“You’ve had a rough day. Are you at home?” There was warmth in his voice, and she leaned back into her pillow, the urge to cry starting again.
“Yes.” She gulped down the lump in her throat; she didn’t want to start bawling again. “Where are you?”
“Still at the police station. I’ve not yet been shown the door so I’m sticking close, trying to find out what I can. What are you doing?”
“Lying in bed. Trying to forget how terrible this day has been.” In spite of herself, Anne started to cry. “I just can’t believe she’s dead.”
“I know.”
“That damned Shelton was supposed to help, but he didn’t and she’s dead.” No way was she going to call him Jack again. He was no friend of hers.
“We don’t know that anything he could have done would have stopped this. There’s a good chance Lenore was dead before he even got here.”
“Maybe.” She paused. She might as well tell him. He would probably find out himself if he hadn’t already heard. “He thinks I’m involved. Andrew, too.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I know. I heard the recording.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. It’s an interrogation technique.”
“He was horrible.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He paused. “Truth be told, I wasn’t too pleased to have to listen to it either.”
She felt small. It had to have been humiliating for Terrence. She was glad she hadn’t answered the question about whether they were sleeping together. Whatever she’d said to that, it would have been embarrassing for him. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too.”
Sorry about what, she wondered? Sorry he’d come? Sorry their marriage had been such a mess?
She heard him sigh, and wished she could see his face. “Terrence, you’re staying, aren’t you? You won’t leave?” She couldn’t bear to think of going through all of this without him, or of him leaving when she’d hardly even seen him yet.
The line was quiet for a moment before he answered her. “Anne, you don’t need me. The FBI is here. Grainger will most certainly have lawyers at his command if either of you need them. Or I’ll take care of getting you a lawyer if you’d rather.”
”I don’t need a lawyer. I need you.”
There was a pause and he spoke again, almost beseechingly. “What exactly are you thinking you need me here for?”
“I don’t know exactly. To help.” She rubbed at her eyes with the hand not holding the phone.
“This is Shelton’s specialty, Anne. Investigating child abductions is what he does. Why do you want me?”
Anne suddenly realized that he was asking her more than what his words actually said. He seemed to want to stay, to help her. She was so surprised that she didn’t answer his question.
“Talk to me, girl.”
The familiar lilt of her husband’s Scottish accent felt so comfortable, like sinking down into a comfortable chair but, as she knew only too well, that chair wasn’t always so comfortable. “I’m not exactly sure. I just know I don’t want you to go.”
His voice was soft. “What do you want from me?”
“I just want you to stay.”
There was a silence, then he said, “I’ll stay for a few days. Sunday at the latest. Then I have to get back to Scotland.”
“Thank you.” She was more relieved more than she could have imagined, just knowing he would be staying, if only for a short time. “You’ll stay here at the Mermaids, won’t you?”
His voice faltered. “I don’t know if that would be a guid idea, lassie.”
She felt her face get hot, realizing he was probably thinking about what Jack Shelton had said to her about sleeping with him and Andrew both. She needed to make sure he knew she was talking about separate rooms.
She made her voice less personal. “Jeanne already got a room ready for you. It wouldn’t be fair to make you go to a hotel when you stayed to help as a favor to me.”
There was a silence on the other end. Please, please say yes, she prayed.
He cleared his throat. “All right, then. I’ll come over after I finish here. But you should sleep. Don’t wait up for me. It’ll probably be late.”
“You can’t come now?” She wasn’t able to keep the longing out of her voice this time.
“Not yet.”
Anne was disappointed, but she was tired and completely spent emotionally. “If you’re not coming for a while, I’m guess I will try to sleep. My head aches so badly. I’ll tell Jeanne you’ll be here later.” She found herself smiling for the first time that day. “I think she wants to practice her new innkeeper role with you.”
“Then I can hardly disappoint her, can I?” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“No, I don’t think that would be wise. I’ll tell her you’ll be here in a bit.”
; “Go to sleep, lass.”
“I will. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yes. In the morning.”
I love you, she thought. But she just hung up the telephone.
Chapter 32
REID WALKED UP the steps of the Mermaids just as Jeanne appeared in the doorway, the two dogs he recognized from that morning standing obediently behind her. She nodded to him in greeting, a cautious smile on her face.
“Come in. Is that your only bag?”
He nodded. “It’s guid to see you, Jeanne.”
“Same here. It’s been a long time.” Her voice wasn’t unfriendly, but neither was she overly enthusiastic. She stepped aside to let him in and closed the door behind him.
He petted the dogs and looked around. “The kids?”
“Fast asleep. As is Anne, though she had some help from a pill I gave her.”
“How is she?”
“The morning was awful, but she was sounding better tonight.” Jeanne ordered the dogs back.
“You sure that this isn’t too much trouble?” Reid asked. “It feels a bit strange my staying here, with things between Anne and me as they are.”
“Absolutely not. Anne was insistent that you stay here. If she’s good with it, I am, too. And you’re staying to help her, aren’t you?”
He nodded.
“Okay, then. Let’s go back to the kitchen. I’m trying to keep busy, so I’m practicing my baking for the bed and breakfast crowd. I just made banana bread and I’m trying to decide which recipe I like the best. I don’t suppose you’re hungry? I’d love another opinion.”
Reid smiled. “I’d be happy to help.”
“You have to have at least two pieces—I need a comparison vote. You have to taste both of the competing breads.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“I have a pot of decaffeinated coffee—or would you like milk or tea? We also have beer, wine, assorted liquor, whatever you like.”
“Coffee would be great.”
“Sit down and I’ll bring it over.” Jeanne poured two cups and took them over to the table. Then she went back to the counter, cut two big pieces from each of the loaves she had cooling on the cutting board, placed them on a plate and put it in front of him.
“Butter?”
Reid waved it away. “No, no, mustn’t confuse the issues if this is to be a true taste test.”
Jeanne laughed. “You’re exactly what I need. A judge who takes his job seriously.” She sat down next to him. “Go ahead, eat. I’ve already tried them. I’ll let you know my choice after you vote. I don’t want to influence the judge unfairly.”
He took a bite, first of one bread, then the other, then repeated the process, thoughtfully drinking his coffee between bites. “By far and away, this one is my favorite.” He pointed to the one on the left side of his plate.
“Good choice. Same as me. That one is from Mother’s old cookbook. That’s settled then. Another arrow in my quiver ready.”
Reid hesitated, took a drink of coffee, and asked, “How are you getting along, Jeanne? I know it must be hard.” He had always liked this little sister of Anne’s. It was a shame she’d lost her husband so young, but she was carrying on, raising her children by herself and now organizing this place to make a living.
“I have good days and bad days, but the kids make sure I keep going. And I keep busy.” She gestured around the house. “This has been a huge project.”
“It looks great. If I hadn’t seen it before, I’d think this was the way the house was originally, only perfectly kept up.” He meant it. The place looked phenomenal.
“Thanks. How about you? How are you doing? I can never get any information out of Anne. She’s like a clam.”
“Things are fine. Work is busy.”
“You know I’m not talking about your work.”
He looked down at his cup. “May I have some more coffee, please?”
She got up and poured both of them some more coffee. “Stop stalling.”
“What exactly do you want to know?”
“About you and Anne, of course.”
“Not much to tell. I’ve not seen her in months. Nor talked to her.”
“Why not? What exactly happened with you two?”
“What does she say?”
“Not much. She generally just cries or gets real quiet when your name comes up. I’m not sure if you realize how hard she took the break-up.”
He played with his coffee cup. “Not too hard from what I can tell. She found someone else when I didn’t even realize she’d be looking.”
“You guys were separated more than a year before she started seeing Andrew.”
“I didn’t really think about it that way.”
Jeanne frowned. “What way?”
“Like it was so final. Truth be told, I’m not sure how we got to where we are today. I said things I shouldn’t have and the next thing I know, we’re in a cold war and time just went by.”
“Why didn’t you call her? I know she was calling you and e-mailing you.”
“I don’t know. Pride, I guess. Maybe just stupidity. Now she’s got Grainger and doesn’t want me anymore.”
Jeanne started wrapping the rest of the banana bread in plastic. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Why do you say that?” Reid wondered if Jeanne realized how enmeshed Anne was in Andrew Grainger’s life.
“I know her.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
“I wish it wasn’t true, but I think she’s still in love with you.”
He looked at Jeanne skeptically. “Did she say so?”
“Not in so many words. She’s so private, she doesn’t say much even to Meg or me, but I can tell. So can Meg.”
“How?”
“The way she talks about you, the way she acts.”
He took a swallow of his coffee while he thought. “He proposed to her, you know.”
“You’re kidding.” Jeanne looked incredulous. “She didn’t tell me that. I told you she’s close-mouthed. She told you that?”
“He told me.” Reid assumed Anne had told the other man that stupid thing he’d said about going their separate ways. If so, that explained why Grainger didn’t have any qualms about telling Reid he was planning to marry Anne. “He said she hadn’t accepted yet, but that he was hopeful. Obviously they’ve been talking about it for a while.”
“I couldn’t be sorrier for that poor man or for poor little Lenore. But that doesn’t mean Anne will marry him.” She rinsed out the glass coffee carafe and put it back into the coffee machine. “You’re staying in the room you two stayed in after your wedding reception here. Not my idea, Anne’s. She was adamant—and she made it up for you herself. She arranged the flowers in your room and even picked out the towels. Apparently the ones I’d selected weren’t quite right. Everything had to be perfect. I thought it might make you uncomfortable or be painful to be in that room. But she insisted.”
Reid smiled, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time. Anne knew his memories of their stay in that room would be anything but painful.
Jeanne eyed him, nodded. “Guess she was right.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day. This talk tonight is our little secret, okay?”
He nodded.
She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and started upstairs. Nonchalantly, she turned back to him. “By the way, Anne’s in the second bedroom on the left in case you want to check in on her. She never locks her door. The sedative knocked her out, so she won’t wake up, but it’s probably a good idea to make sure she’s still breathing after all she’s been through today. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”
“Thank you, Jeanne.”
“Just one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“If you hurt her again, I’ll kill you.”
He looked at her in surprise, but she didn’t turn back. He sat for a while thinking, then took his bag and went up
the stairs. When he reached the hall, he put the bag down and walked to the door of Anne’s room. He hesitated, then opened the door. A delicate shell nightlight gave a golden glow to everything in the room. This was where she was last night when he’d talked to her. He saw an arrangement of yellow roses in a silvery vase on the fireplace. Her favorites. He remembered the recording of the first interview of Anne and realized these were the flowers she’d taken home. The flowers Grainger had given her for Valentine’s Day.
Reid went over to the bed. Anne lay under a soft bronze comforter with her blonde hair fanned out on her pillow. Her face, clean of makeup, looked peaceful and her full lips were slightly parted, as if she were about to speak. His beautiful wife. She shifted slightly and he moved back. She was definitely breathing.
He leaned down and softly brushed her lips with his.
DAY FOUR – TUESDAY
FEBRUARY 17
Chapter 33
TUESDAY MORNING ARRIVED with no lifting of the dismal cold, but the gray light that showed through the slight opening in the curtains was just enough to let Reid check the time on his watch. To his dismay, he’d slept much later than he intended.
He quickly showered and dressed, thinking about the last time he’d been in this room. With Anne. On his way downstairs, he went by Anne’s bedroom. He knocked softly on the door, but there was no answer. He turned the door handle and looked in. Her bed was made and the room was empty. He went down the stairs and through the house to the kitchen, looking around in vain for any sign of Anne.
Jeanne looked up at him from the papers and photographs she had laid out in a row on the kitchen counter.
“There you are. How’d you sleep?”
“Too well.” He smiled. “So am I your first real guest?”
“You would be, but I don’t think I can count family as guests.”
“I could pay the going rate if that would help.”
“Absolutely not. But if you want me to call you my first guest, I will.”
“It would be an honor. Did the kids leave already?”
“About an hour ago. It’s almost nine. You must have been tired.”