Tell No Lies

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  It felt bad then . . . but now it felt worse.

  There were too many lies, too many secrets.

  And they were getting harder and harder to keep.

  “Excuse me!” she said to a police officer who passed by her seat. “Where exactly did they say they found those bodies?”

  He knew who she was, and looked at her apologetically. “You know I really can’t say exactly, ma’am, somewhere near Clark Sound.”

  Sadie nodded woodenly and sat back down, but only for a moment to gather her courage. This was the hardest thing she would ever have to do.

  But it was long past time.

  Long past time.

  If her son was innocent, the law would discover the truth. She had to believe that with all her heart. And if he was guilty . . . then she had raised a monster and he had to be stopped.

  Choking back a wave of guilt for all her ugly suspicions about her own flesh and blood, she got up from her chair in the hall and set out to make a long overdue confession.

  11:26 P.M.

  After speaking briefly with Caroline, Augusta understood why no one was answering their phones. As it turned out, her sister’s cell was simply charging and she spoke to Augusta long enough to say the police had taken a search team into the salt marsh where Augusta had discovered the bodies. Apparently, Ian was out there, as well, working with Jack, although Caroline had only heard bits of information through one of Jack’s men, because she had yet to speak with Jack directly. Sadie was at the police station, but Caroline hadn’t spoken to her either, and Josh was on his way to pick Augusta up from the hospital.

  “I would have come to get you myself, but Josh was closer,” she said. And then she paused a moment, adding, “Thank God he went looking for you.”

  The effects of the sedation were wearing off, but Augusta was momentarily confused, certain Caroline wouldn’t have meant to praise Ian. “Josh?” she asked.

  “No,” Caroline said, and waited another moment to clarify, as though it pained her somehow to say it. “Ian.”

  Augusta refrained from pointing out that it was the second time Ian had saved one of them from harm. But it was enough that Caroline had acknowledged his part in Augusta’s rescue. She knew her sister well enough to know it was a start. Pushing her now wouldn’t get them any further. They had that in common—that same, stubborn quality they had both inherited from their mother.

  “He should be there soon,” Caroline promised.

  They hung up, and Augusta sat on the bed, waiting for her discharge, feeling strangely disconnected.

  It was probably partly the sedation. But it was something more, as well. Caroline was there at home, waiting for her, and she felt as though they were making progress, but with Savannah gone, Sadie’s revelations and Josh avoiding her lately, she felt as though their lives were unraveling.

  Josh might be her brother, but she didn’t feel close to him anymore. In fact, she had never felt further removed from the child she had grown up with.

  And Sadie . . . all the lies . . .

  The last time she’d felt so morose, it was after Sammy’s death . . . when her father abandoned them and her mother shut down emotionally. Sadie had been the glue that had kept them together, but it felt like that glue was decaying before her eyes.

  What the hell was she supposed to say to Josh?

  Their entire life was a lie.

  Obviously, he shared her feelings. When he arrived, he didn’t bother to come in to retrieve her. He called to say he was outside. The nurse wheeled her out—probably to make sure she wasn’t getting into the driver’s seat alone.

  So much for chivalry. Whatever Josh had felt for her once upon a time, he obviously didn’t anymore. By the look on his face, he seemed annoyed by the thought of coming to help her. Augusta didn’t pay much attention to the car he was driving; it was dark and the nurse was chatting endlessly. Anxious to get home, she practically ran to get into the passenger’s side, sparing Josh the effort of getting out to help. Apparently, he wasn’t in a hurry to do that anyway, because he sat behind the driver’s seat, with the window rolled halfway down, waiting. It wasn’t until Augusta was in the car that she realized it wasn’t his.

  It was Sadie’s.

  Her shoulders tensed immediately.

  Sadie’s car had been parked in her driveway while Augusta was sitting in her house. How had Josh ended up with it? “Thanks for coming to get me,” she said, though suddenly a little uncertain.

  “No problem,” he replied tersely and then he said nothing more as he navigated the parking lot. They pulled onto the road and the hospital parking lot disappeared behind them.

  Although he kept his eyes on the road, Augusta had the feeling he was watching her in his peripheral vision. She settled back into the seat, sore, but thankful that most of the effects of the sedative were wearing off. She didn’t like feeling out of control.

  It was raining still. Drops beaded on the windshield as quickly as the wiper blade could sweep them away. Silence was a third occupant in the car, its presence as palpable as the growing pain in her chest—getting more intense with every passing minute as the medication wore off. The insistent sound of the wipers worked her nerves.

  “It’s awful about Daniel,” she said, forcing conversation.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are they going to charge him?

  He shrugged, barely lifting a shoulder, a grudging response.

  “What about your mom . . . she okay?”

  He wouldn’t look at her. “Haven’t talked to her.”

  They were heading over the expressway now, toward home. She could see the choppers in the sky over James Island, their spotlights honed in on an area behind the tree line.

  Beside her, Josh seemed tense, his gaze following the choppers in the air.

  She wanted to say something about Sadie’s confession—wanted to ask him if he felt as strange as she did about their sudden sibling relationship, but couldn’t broach the subject. She wanted to bring up the will, but again something stopped her. It sat like a bomb in her purse. She couldn’t have been more aware of it, but the tension was already high enough and she had never felt the breach between them so acutely.

  Her gaze fell upon the phone in the console—a small red flip phone that looked like a cheap prepaid. Josh’s phone was an iPhone—like hers, only white and newer. Reaching out for the flip phone, she commented, half-jokingly, “You got a new phone?”

  His hand snaked out at once, stopping her, pinning her wrist to the seat at her side, giving her a look that made the tiny hairs on her nape stand on end. Brushing his hand off, she shrugged away. “Jesus, why so touchy?”

  He didn’t respond.

  They drove the remainder of the way over the bridge in silence. Augusta laid her head back on the seat, staring out the passenger side window. She could see Josh’s reflection on the window, his jaw taut and his eyes in the air as much as on the road.

  Her gaze reverted to the phone on the console . . . she wanted to pick it up again, but didn’t dare. Josh wasn’t the type to keep old technology around.

  So whose was it?

  She stared at the phone, and Josh began to tap his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel . . .

  Chapter 25

  Knee-deep in plough mud, Jack felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. At this point, he was a little surprised it worked. Although he hadn’t actually submerged it, his clothes were about as wet as they could get without having gone swimming.

  Peeling off the thick gloves he was wearing, he fought the urge to toss up his guts now that he had a second to think about what they had discovered here. The fact that it was so close to Oyster Point almost made him retch.

  The phone stopped ringing long before he had his hand free to shove down into his pocket. He fished it out and walked away from the rest of the crew to talk privately. Recognizing the number, he dialed the station, identified himself and waited for the dispatcher to determine who had called him. A mes
sage beeped through while he waited, and he cast a glance at the dredge nets stretched across the water. So far, they had unearthed eight bodies. The net was there to filter out personal belongings—rings, jewelry, clothing—anything that would help identify the victims. After being submerged in the water and mud, there wasn’t much chance they would salvage any physical evidence that might lead them to a killer, but they’d called in a forensic anthropologist to assist with the identification process.

  “Jack . . .” It was Don Garrison on the line. Don was back at the station booking Greene.

  “Whatcha got?”

  “It’s the housekeeper,” he said, and paused. “She just came forward with a helluva tale.”

  “And?”

  “Uh . . . she’s coming out to show where to locate a body.”

  “We’ve got them,” Jack said, not wanting Sadie in the way. Hearing the ruckus behind him, as they unearthed yet another, he said, “Nine so far.”

  “No,” Garrison said, his voice sounding somber. “This one’s . . . in another location.”

  Jack pulled the phone back for an instant, bracing himself to hear what Garrison had to say. Anything involving Sadie would directly affect Caroline. He put the phone back to his ear, a new sense of dread settling in his gut.

  Around him, men waded through the mire, some pushing inflatable rafts laden with body parts and bones. They had spotlights trained on the area from nearby boats. Standing in the middle of the shallows, he couldn’t see out beyond the glare, but he knew Caroline was back there, watching from the Aldridge dock. One of his men had spoken to her, securing permission to search the area—permission he’d known she wouldn’t deny them.

  But where she was concerned, there was still a little hesitation on his part. He knew better than to talk to her about the unfolding investigation. Not only did he feel the need to protect her, but he also felt the need to insulate himself, because Caroline was bound to think in terms of breaking stories.

  “Spit it out, Garrison.”

  “It’s Sam Aldridge,” he said. “Childres and her son buried the kid out in the marsh . . . Jack . . . I think Josh Childres is our man.”

  11:46 P.M.

  The closer they got to Oyster Point, the more tense Josh seemed to become. Augusta couldn’t help it; her suspicions were roused. After all the lies, she couldn’t blindly ignore the thoughts that were racing through her brain.

  The phone.

  Sadie’s car.

  Josh’s demeanor.

  It was all a little unnerving.

  She tried to roll down the passenger side window and found it locked. Josh didn’t make a habit of riding around town with kids in his car, so why would he use the child lock? Neither did Sadie, for that matter. Just to be sure, she pressed the button again, sliding Josh a nervous glance. “So . . . what are you doing driving Sadie’s car?” she asked, trying to sound casual. “Just wanted a change?”

  Her fingers began to tingle. She thought maybe it was because she was breathing a little too fast.

  They were close enough to hear the choppers now, and his attention was centered overhead. The simple fact that neither of them had bothered to mention the aircraft left Augusta all the more on edge.

  “I needed the cargo space . . . I’m moving.”

  He was lying, she sensed.

  Augusta turned to look at the backseat. There were no boxes, no tape, nothing that would indicate he had been moving all day. “You could have asked for help,” she suggested. “I would’ve been happy to . . .” Her sentence caught on a swallow. “Help.”

  Sadie’s car had been parked at her house.

  She stared at him, remembering.

  Josh had the same build as the man in Sadie’s house.

  Why would Josh break into his own mother’s house?

  It didn’t make sense.

  She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. “So . . . have you been driving Sadie’s car all day?”

  She knew he hadn’t been. It was a test. He slid her a look, one that said far more than words could have revealed, and her heart skipped a beat. For an instant, his blue eyes held her transfixed, and then he turned back to the road. The hairs on her arm stood on end. He knew what she was thinking. He made a sudden turn on Riverland Drive—away from home.

  A sense of panic infused her. “Hey! I’m tired, Josh. Where are we going?”

  “I want to show you something,” he said.

  “It’s late. I’d rather go home.”

  He kept driving, and the car sped up, racing through back roads. She tried the lock again. The choppers disappeared above a canopy of ancient oaks, though she could still hear them.

  “Please,” she begged.

  “It’ll just take a minute,” he said calmly, and kept driving. Faster now.

  Augusta’s heartbeat quickened painfully. Her gaze turned to the phone in his console and then to her own, lying in her lap.

  The slight fuzziness that had lingered in her head disappeared entirely. She could suddenly see everything with startling clarity. The beat of her heart played like drums in a symphony, and her breathing grew heavy enough to hurt. Minutes stretched by . . . moments of indecision and confusion that hindered her ability to react.

  She thought she smelled the scent of blood, but it was probably her own . . . her shirt was stained with it.

  “Josh?” she said, testing the name, because he suddenly seemed like a stranger. “Where are we going?”

  She clicked on her cell phone to call her sister and he reached over to seize it from her, tossing it out his window. Without missing a beat, he reached over to grab her by the hair and slammed her face into the dash. The last thing Augusta remembered was the warm, thick trickle that seeped into her mouth.

  Jack hung up and his gaze sought Ian Patterson.

  Standing waist-deep in the muck, Patterson was taking direction from one of his men. He had promised to stay out of the way, but in the end, they’d needed all the willing hands they could rally.

  Right now, he had a cold feeling down in his gut that was chilling him in a way the steady rainfall hadn’t been able to accomplish.

  He’d yet to return any of Caroline’s calls, and he was far less inclined to call her now because he didn’t know what to say to her—not yet. He didn’t want to tell her anything, but he couldn’t lie.

  If what Don Garrison had said was true, they were about to exhume her four-year-old brother after twenty-nine years. The thought of it made his head spin.

  Sadie knew where Sam was buried.

  She was bringing the police to exhume his body.

  And somehow, Josh was involved.

  Augusta, was his next immediate thought.

  Before riling Patterson, or Caroline, he placed a call to the hospital, waiting with a sick feeling in his gut for the nurse who had treated Augusta to get on the line.

  “She left about thirty-five to forty minutes ago,” he said. “No broken bones. No concussion. There was really no reason to keep her.”

  Jack peered down at his watch: It was 12:10. He knew Caroline had decided to remain on the property and Sadie was on her way from the police station, which left only one logical conclusion. “Did she say who was picking her up?”

  “No. But one of the other nurses wheeled her out after the discharge. Hang on, let me see what she knows.” He set the phone down. Jack heard it clink softly on the desk. After an excruciatingly long two minutes, with Jack staring at his watch, the nurse returned. “She left in a silver SUV,” he said. “But she couldn’t remember what kind.”

  Jack dialed Caroline’s number, his chest constricting painfully. “Where is Augusta?” he asked the moment she answered her phone.

  “Jack!” she exclaimed. “Finally! I’ve been calling you nonstop all night! You can’t just leave me in the dark here!”

  “Caroline,” he interrupted. “Where is Augusta?”

  “She’s on the way home,” Caroline said, sounding annoyed, but her tone softened a
t the urgency in his voice. “Josh offered to pick her up.”

  Jack felt as though a cannonball dropped in his belly at the disclosure.

  “What’s wrong, Jack?”

  “Call me immediately if you hear from Augusta. I need to call you back,” he said, and hung up, icy cold fingers ripping down his spine.

  He had no proof, he reminded himself, but he knew . . .

  Augusta was with Josh.

  If they’d left the hospital forty minutes ago, they would already be home by now. It was a short drive over the James Island Expressway.

  He looked at his watch again: 12:12. He called the station back, instructing Garrison to call Sadie’s escort to find out which car she had driven to the station. While he waited for the return call, he made a decision he might live to regret, and trudged toward Patterson through the mud. There was no proof, just gut feelings, but if it were Caroline whose life were in danger, he would want to know.

  His phone rang as he struggled through the mud and he answered without hesitating to look at the ID.

  “She came in Josh’s Z4, said he needed her car to haul things to the house on Tradd Street. Apparently, he’s moving.”

  “Fuck!” Jack said. “Put a BOLO on Sadie Childres’s car right now. Silver 2014 model X3. Check the house on Tradd Street, and put a track on Augusta Aldridge’s cell phone!”

  Chapter 26

  Augusta awoke on a hard floor, dazed and sopping wet. She caught a sickly sweet smell—like rotten magnolias—and her head was pounding.

  She heard voices.

  No, just one.

  Josh.

  “Everything’s fucking ruined!” he muttered beneath his breath.

  Even as her brain honed in on the sound, her mind rejected the knowledge. There was a cloth covering her mouth. She reached for it, flicking it off, rolling toward the sound of his voice.