Her speech given, Tammy walked slowly but purposefully back into the house.
Savannah looked back at Lenora Hart to see the effect her daughter’s words might have had on her. But Dr. Hart’s face looked like a wall of ice to Savannah. Cold and unyielding. Her tears were gone, her jaw clenched, her chin raised.
Savannah walked over to Granny and held out her hand to her. “Let’s go, Gran,” she said. “I think we’ve done all we can here.”
“I’m afraid you’re right, darlin’. Words don’t mean much if they’re falling on hard-packed soil.”
Chapter 24
Gran retired upstairs to catch a nap, as Tammy settled down in the living room, at the desk.
Savannah could have used a nap herself, but she sensed that Tammy needed to talk, so she pulled up a chair and sat down beside her.
“When Waycross gets here, I’m going to ask him to take my parents to our house to get their things and then drive them to the hotel by the pier.”
Tammy flipped on the computer, then held her baby close and nuzzled her neck.
“I understand,” Savannah said.
“Something tells me that you do. You, of all people.”
Savannah noticed that Tammy wasn’t crying anymore. In fact, she didn’t look as wounded as she had in the backyard, when she had first heard her mother’s condemning words.
Something had changed in Tammy. Savannah could feel it.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Savannah asked her.
“Strangely enough, I am. I’m better than I’ve been since the moment I heard my parents were coming to visit.” She turned to face Savannah. “I feel like a huge weight has lifted off me, the burden of trying to please my mother. I never saw her, our relationship, the way I do now. So clearly.”
“What do you mean, darlin’?”
“The one thing I’ve wanted most in my life was to win my mother’s love, to earn her respect and her approval. Now I know for certain that I’ll never receive those things. Actually, I’ve known it all along. But today I realized that she can’t give me what she doesn’t have.”
Savannah nodded. “I think you’re right about that. Her withholding her approval is about her, not you. You aren’t lacking anything, Tammy. You are enough. You’re more than enough. If she can’t see that, then she has a blindness that only she can cure.”
“I’m not even sure that she can,” Tammy said. “I don’t think she knows how she is, how she treats people. How can she fix something she doesn’t acknowledge or even see?”
“I agree. I think you’re wise to have figured that out.”
“I’ve put up with her hurting me for my entire life, Savannah. I thought it was the right thing to do, to honor my mother, my flesh and blood.”
“It’s important to honor your family, especially your parents, but . . .”
“Yes, it is. But when I heard what she said about you, about Waycross, and worst of all, about Vanna, I realized I’ve given some of the best parts of myself to someone who doesn’t value them. That isn’t virtuous. That’s just foolish.”
“I can see how you would feel that way.”
“I won’t do it anymore. It’s bad enough that I allowed her to abuse me. But I will not let her harm Waycross and Vanna the way she has me.”
“I don’t blame you, darlin’.”
Tammy reached over and grabbed Savannah’s hand. Holding it tightly, she said, “I used to wonder how anyone could walk away from their own mother. Now it seems like the easiest thing in the world. The right thing to do.”
“I’ve done much the same with my mother,” Savannah told her. “It wasn’t easy, but sometimes it’s a matter of self-preservation.”
“It’s as if I’m protecting my family from my family. But Vanna is the innocent one here. As long as she’s a child, her world will be whatever I make it. My mother’s an adult. She chooses her own path, and that’s her right. But I won’t walk it with her anymore. I won’t force my husband and my baby to walk it with her.”
“How does that decision feel to you, Tamitha?” Savannah asked, searching her friend’s eyes.
“Like I have peace deep in my heart for the first time in my life.”
“Then it sounds like the right thing to do. I always feel that way when I’ve made a decision, even a difficult one.”
Tammy nodded, then returned her attention to the screen. She typed and scrolled and a moment later, the image of Neal Irwin and Beth Malloy appeared on the screen. “I need to move on, Savannah. At least for the moment. I want you to see what I did,” she said. “How I know it’s fake.”
“Okay. Good. Show me.”
“The picture of Neal and Beth together is probably real, unaltered for the most part,” Tammy said. “But then, they were married for quite a while. It’s not surprising that they might have taken some naughty pictures of themselves for kicks.”
“True, but the caesarian scar . . .”
“That’s the part that’s been photoshopped. Here, watch this and you’ll see what I mean.”
Tammy began to zoom in, tighter and tighter, on Beth’s belly and the scar that showed so prominently, low on her abdomen.
“Someone cut that area out of another picture and pasted it on there,” Tammy explained. “Sometimes when you create a cutout from one picture and paste on another, they don’t have the same resolution. Pixels, the little squares that make up a digital photograph . . . see them now?”
Tammy had zoomed in so closely that what had once looked like a photograph now resembled a quilt made of tiny squares.
“Yes, I see them,” Savannah said.
“Look at these squares over here, the ones that make up her thigh and his hip. See, they’re much smaller than the squares where the scar is.”
“That shows that they’re from two different pictures, photos with different resolutions?”
“It sure does.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, wow.”
“How about the picture of Ethan with Candace?”
“Oh, that one’s just a mess of cutting and pasting. It looks to me like they stole bits and pieces from a number of photographs to come up with that one. It wouldn’t be hard, if you think about it. Ethan and Candace have both been photographed a million times or more. Those pictures are out there on the Internet for anyone to capture and use.”
“Like the way his fans make those videos?”
“Exactly like that.”
Suddenly, Tammy turned to Savannah, her eyes bright with excitement. Savannah’s were sparkling, too.
“The fans!” Tammy said.
“Or one of the fans. You said they’re obsessed.”
“They are! You should hear some of these women talk about Ethan, like how he’s the man of their dreams, their soul mate, if only he wasn’t married . . .”
“Any one fan in particular?”
“No one who stands out. They’re all crazy about him. Young women, old women, girls, even guys. He has that effect on people.”
“He’s kind, too,” Savannah said thoughtfully. “At the search today, he was interacting with his fans like they were friends, family even. I talked to him about it, and he sees them that way. At least some of them, ones he’s gotten to know well.”
“You have to call him right away,” Tammy said, practically bouncing on her chair—an activity that Vanna was enjoying. She was waving her arms, as excited as they were. “Call him, tell him we think it might be a fan, and ask him if that rings any bells for him.”
“Someone who’s especially close to him and Beth. A fan they consider a good friend. Maybe too good.”
“Perhaps someone who’s worked on some of these fan-vids of him.”
Savannah reached for her cell phone, but the moment she did, it rang.
“It’s Ryan,” she said, looking at the caller ID. “Let’s run this new theory of ours by him and see what he thinks.”
“Yes, good idea!”
“Ryan, I’m so glad you call
ed,” Savannah said. “Your timing’s perfect. Tammy and I just came up with an idea that we’d like to bounce off you.”
“I’d love to hear it,” he replied, “but you might want to hear mine first.”
“Sure. Let ’er rip.”
“We were able to trace the origin of that e-mail, the one that someone sent to Ethan. The one with the image that you wouldn’t let us see.”
“That’s because I promised Ethan I wouldn’t let anyone see it but Tammy. It’s private in nature.”
“A nude shot? Somebody or bodies getting it on?”
“Um, yes. As a matter of fact, it is. But Tammy examined it, and there’s no doubt it was doctored.”
“How about the one with Ethan and Candace?”
“That one has more pieces patched together than Frankenstein. We think it might be an obsessed fan. Heaven knows, he has enough of them. And they like to make up these elaborate fan videos of him in movies he was never in, doing things he never did, dubbing his voice and his image over all sorts of things. If they could do that, it wouldn’t be any problem at all to alter a couple of photographs.”
“I completely agree. I don’t know anything about that, whether the person who sent the e-mails was a fan or not. I’ll give you the name, and you can take it from there.”
“Sure. Who is it?”
“Her name is Katherine Zeegers. She lives here in San Carmelita. Interestingly, she moved to this area only a couple of weeks after Ethan and Beth bought the castle there in Malibu. Coincidence?”
“Maybe. Or an obsession?”
Savannah turned to Tammy. “Tams, when you used Beth’s passwords, the ones I got from Amy and Ethan . . .”
“To look over her social networking pages.”
“Exactly. Were you able to read some of the letters between Beth and her fans or Ethan’s fans?”
“Yes, but they were all friendly, the fans telling her how much they enjoyed her and her husband’s performances. Her thanking them. Just standard stuff.”
“Do you recall anyone by the name of Katherine Zeegers?”
Tammy thought for a moment. “No. I don’t recall anyone by that name. But I could check again.”
“Would you?”
“Sure.”
Savannah returned to Ryan. “Tammy’s checking Beth’s social pages now, looking for that name. Do you have an address?”
“Of course.” He chuckled. “When John and I do a job—”
“I know, I know. You do it right.”
“She lives at 224 Wolf Road. It’s on the outskirts of town, a run-down area.”
“I know the place. We raided a lot of meth labs around there, back in the day.”
Meanwhile, Tammy was flipping from one computer page to another, searching. “I don’t see any Katherine Zeegers, but I do see a lot of correspondence between Beth and a woman named Kitty Z. Isn’t Kitty sometimes a nickname for Katherine? I think it is.”
“It absolutely is.” Savannah could feel her excitement growing by the moment. “And I know that woman! Well, I don’t know her personally. But I met her this morning at the search in the park. He said he knew her well, that she’s like a friend of the family.”
“Is this her?” Tammy had pulled up a profile picture of Kitty Z.
It was Savannah’s turn to bounce up and down on her chair. “It’s her. That’s the woman I saw in the park today. But is it Katherine Zeegers?”
“I just sent you Katherine Zeegers’s driver’s license photo,” Ryan said.
Savannah’s phone dinged. “Got it,” she said. “Let me look.”
She opened his message and there she was, Katherine Zeegers aka Kitty Z. “No doubt about it,” she said, showing the DMV shot to Tammy. “They’re the same woman.”
Savannah sank back in her chair, weak with excitement. “Thank you, Ryan,” she said into the phone. “Thank you, thank you! I owe you any kind of pie you want.”
“Bourbon pecan.”
“You got it, boy, and a big hug and kiss to go with it.”
“That’ll be the sweetest part. Keep us posted.”
“Oh, I will. I most certainly will. Bye, darlin’.”
She ended the call, then turned to Tammy, who was beaming as she cuddled her baby close.
Even little Vanna seemed to be in a celebratory mood, smiling and playing patty-cake.
“I have a feeling about this gal,” Savannah said.
“Me too. While you were talking to Ryan, I checked, and she’s one of the fans, the main one, in fact, who’s posted those fan-vids. She’s got the know-how, that’s for sure.”
“I’m thinking of how she showed up for that search. How many times does the killer mingle in a crowd of searchers or mourners after he’s done his dirty work? Enough that the FBI and even savvy local law enforcers videotape searches and funerals, then identify everyone there.”
“Did Dirk do that this morning?”
“He had both Jake and Mike filming the whole thing.” She shivered with delight. “I can’t wait to tell him! We’ve finally got an honest-to-goodness suspect!”
Chapter 25
“I’ve gotta tell you, I have mixed emotions about this,” Dirk said as he reached into the glove box and pulled out the bagful of cinnamon sticks.
“I don’t see what’s ‘mixed’ about it,” Savannah replied. “Your wife and friend solve your case for you, and all you have to do is go scoop up the perp. Sounds pretty peachy to me.”
Savannah turned the nose of the Mustang toward the east, heading for what was not so affectionately called the “East End.”
The easternmost area of San Carmelita was the part of town where tourists rarely ventured, unless they wanted to score a recreational, illegal substance of some kind.
The buildings that lined the main streets were old, and not in a quaint, picturesque way. Storefronts seldom got painted, potholes rarely got filled, and crimes were hardly ever solved, mostly because they were infrequently reported, for fear of retaliation.
“Don’t think I don’t appreciate it,” Dirk said, poking the cinnamon stick in his mouth. “It just feels like I missed out on all the fun.”
“You also missed out on a lot of gut-wrenching family drama in our backyard,” she said. “I’d gladly trade my day for yours, if you’re up for it.”
Dirk looked shocked. “You had a fight with Granny?”
“Of course not. The only thing we ever fight about is who gets to make the Christmas fudge. No, unfortunately, this was between Tammy and her mom.”
“Who won and who lost?”
“That’s a good question. I’d say that, in the long run, Tammy won, though I doubt she feels victorious. Her mother lost, big-time, but I don’t think she realizes it yet.”
“I don’t care much for her mother. Seems like everything out of her mouth is some sort of complaint about somebody. I don’t like being around negative people like that.”
Savannah nearly laughed aloud. Most folks who had met Dirk Coulter might have said that he was the most negative person they had ever met. Funny, how a person’s flaws were always the ones that irritated them the most in other people.
Granny Reid always said, “If you want to know what a sneaky person is up to, just listen to what they gripe about the most, when it’s somebody else doing it.”
“I’m sure we were up here a million times during our meth lab–raiding days,” Dirk said as he looked around, trying to find familiar landmarks. “But everything’s changed now. It actually looks worse, and I didn’t think that was possible.”
Unlike her husband, Savannah couldn’t work up any curiosity about the area and its changes. She was too busy wondering if they would find any signs of Beth and Freddy Malloy at Kitty Zeegers’s house on Wolf Road.
More importantly, was it too much to hope that they might actually find them alive and well?
Yes, she supposed it was. But so what if she was a bit of a Pollyanna? The world needed more dreamers, more believers in happily-ever-a
fters.
“Do you think they’re there?” she dared to ask Dirk. When he didn’t reply, she added, “Beth and Freddy, I mean.”
“I know who you mean. I doubt it. I don’t want to get my hopes up, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. It would be nice though.”
“It would be wonderful,” he said softly, his voice soft with emotion.
Sometimes, with his rough exterior, Savannah forgot that her husband was, at heart, a gentle man. Even more so when it came to children. Other than the baby’s own father, Savannah doubted there was anyone on earth who wanted to find little Freddy, safe and sound, more than mean, crusty ol’ Dirk Coulter.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” he said, “if that gal knows where those two are and holds out on me . . .”
“Yes, I hear you. If ever there was a time to lean on a suspect, this would be it.”
Savannah saw the house ahead, its numbers painted with what must have been a kid’s brush, dipped in cheap red paint.
Two broken-down cars littered the front yard of the ramshackle house. The building had gray shingles for siding, but most of them hung loose from one end. Narrow and deep, it reminded Savannah of the shotgun house where she had been raised. Except that Gran’s house, old as it was, had always been neat, clean, and cheerful, with geraniums spilling from its flower boxes, white lace curtains at its windows, and a lush garden growing behind.
But Gran’s house had been loved.
This property was not.
A dog of mixed breeds was running in circles, chained to a spike driven into a lawn that was little more than brown weeds.
“It’s a good thing Gran isn’t with us,” Savannah said. “She’d forget all about the missing people and rescue that dog. She has strong feelings about dogs being chained outside, away from their family.”
“I don’t like it either,” he answered. “A chained-up dog reminds me of how I used to feel.”
“Growing up?”
“Yes. Later, too. Until I met you.”
“That might be the most romantic thing you ever said to me.”
“I’d better get some new material then.”
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