Caroline was through playing games. “Why are you here?”
More to the point, who the hell was she?
“Because I needed to see the high and mighty Caroline Aldridge for myself! You never gave a shit about Jack back then. You still don’t and he doesn’t seem to care that you drag his heart around like an abused puppy on a leash!”
Caroline’s hackles rose. “You must be Kelly,” she surmised aloud. “I’d say it was nice to meet you but for obvious reasons I’d be lying.”
Caroline started toward the house and Kelly shot off the car. “Why did you come back here?” she asked. “Jack and I were doing fine until you showed up!”
“Fine is not the word I would use,” Caroline contended. “But if it makes you feel better, Jack and I are not together—haven’t been for ten years and I don’t see that changing. Whatever is going on between the two of you has nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you! I held on patiently for ten years! Ten years while he pined over you!”
Suddenly, Caroline felt a rush of pity for the other woman. But she didn’t trust her. The last thing she needed right now was to get into a catfight with a police officer—off duty or not. She could picture those headlines now. She made her way toward the house, escaping. “If you’ve been with him that long, it’s not my problem—it’s yours for hanging on to a man who obviously doesn’t love you. And frankly,” she added, hurrying toward the steps, “if he was sleeping with you that soon after we broke up, he didn’t love me either!”
So much for declarations of love!
Thankfully, Kelly didn’t follow and Augusta opened the door abruptly, coming to Caroline’s rescue. “What the hell is going on out here?”
“Nothing,” Caroline said, hoping Kelly would go now.
A backward glance reassured her that their unwelcome guest was leaving. “Bitch!” Kelly exclaimed, as she opened her door and slid into her Jeep.
Augusta started out the door, but Caroline pushed her back. “What the hell is that all about?” her sister demanded.
“Nothing! Everything!” Caroline said and bolted up the stairs, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She’d been holding it together for far too long and it took every bit of fortitude she had to make it into her room—her mother’s room.
She was nothing but a pretender.
Outside, she heard the sound of the Jeep driving away and she threw herself on the bed, staring at the ceiling as tears streamed silently down her cheeks—every last one that she had denied since the moment she’d gotten the news about her mother’s death.
She cried for every second she had missed out on with her mother. Cried for the harsh words and lost opportunities to mend fences. Cried for the memories that were already gone and those that were fading—smiles her mother had once bestowed upon them and laughter that hadn’t rung through the house for far too long. She cried for the years she and her sisters wasted running away from the pain and sadness—for all the years they spent running away from each other, because facing each other was just a reminder of things that would never be. And most of all, she cried because she knew that no matter how many times she’d assured herself that she hated her mother—and Jack—the opposite was true.
The line between love and hate was so very, very fine.
For about ten minutes, Caroline cried with unrestrained emotion until Tango jumped up on the bed. Whining sympathetically, he peered down at her, dropping her mother’s shoe on her face. Caroline laughed.
And then she cried some more.
There was a tentative knock on the door and Augusta peeked in when Caroline didn’t answer. “You wanna tell me what happened?”
Caroline sat up, swiping at her eyes. She ran a sleeve across her raw nose. Tango whined and licked her lashes and she pushed him away. “Not really, but I’ll give you the short version.”
Augusta came in and sat on the bed, reaching out to pull Tango away from Caroline’s face. “I’ll settle for that.”
Caroline sighed. “It’s been a shitty day. Half the city is pissed off at me. The other half is scared shitless—thanks to me. Frank is probably going to quit. Jack hates me. And so does his horrible ex-girlfriend!”
“Wow, and I thought I had it rough taking inventory of this stupid place.”
Caroline had a moment of genuine confusion. “Why are you taking inventory?”
It was Augusta’s turn to sigh. “Because if we’re going to restore this stupid house, I guess we have to keep tabs on everything.”
Caroline snorted. “You mean, you want to give the cat burglar you’re paying to wipe out the house a to-do list, right?”
Augusta laughed. “That’s right. You’ve found me out.”
“Yeah, well now I’m wondering if the break-in wasn’t that psycho out there looking for Jack. He was here that night, you know, and she asked about the window tonight. It sounded a little like a threat.”
“She threatened you?” Augusta’s eyes widened with indignation. “Only I get to do that!”
Caroline choked on laughter.
“I suppose we owe CPD a phone call,” Augusta said. “That stupid cow had a lot of nerve coming here!”
Caroline shrugged. “No, I don’t want to do that.”
“But you will,” Augusta demanded. “Or I will. And I will make it sound way worse than it was, so if you want justice to be served, you’ll do it yourself.”
“Jesus,” Caroline said, but grinned. “You’ve become quite the watchdog, Augusta!”
For the first time since coming home, Augusta smiled a genuine smile. “You’re my sister,” she said sincerely and reached out to brush a strand of hair away from Caroline’s face.
It was the first tender moment Caroline could recall between them since their childhood.
She wanted to hug Augusta, but too many years of separation kept her from reaching out. Still, her tone was softer when she spoke. “All right, I’ll call. Are you seriously going to restore this monstrosity?”
Augusta’s smile turned up at one corner and her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Unless I find a way to burn it all down and still walk away with the money.”
Caroline chuckled. “Well, read the fine print first, or we’ll all end up with nada. Seems Mom planned for everything, except the stupidity of her daughters.”
She was talking about herself, but Augusta misinterpreted. “Don’t worry, Caroline. I won’t do anything stupid. I can feed a lot of Haitians for twenty-seven million dollars.”
Caroline lifted a brow, attempting a smile. “With your third of it, anyway.”
Augusta smirked. “What . . . you don’t want to donate your part of the inheritance to earthquake victims?”
Caroline sighed, grabbing the shoe from under Tango’s chin and tossing it onto the floor. Not that she cared any longer that it was perpetually on the bed. She had already accepted it was the dog’s way of dealing with her mother’s absence, but their conversation was wandering into uncertain territory. “We have natural disasters here too, you know.”
“I know,” Augusta replied, and lapsed into a moment of silence.
Her sister seemed so distant lately, so ready to disappear somewhere far, far away. Caroline wondered how to reach her.
Augusta changed the subject abruptly. “Whattaya say we take that crazy mutt for a walk?”
“Nah . . . not in the mood.” Caroline lay back on the bed.
Augusta stood. “But I am,” she countered. “And you’re not going to let your little sister go wandering in the woods when there’s a killer on the loose.”
Caroline’s brows collided. “God! Not you, too!”
Augusta’s grin returned. “Come on, a walk will do us both good. Look at that poor doggie,” she suggested. “If that isn’t a hint, I don’t know what is.”
Tango stood in front of them, the running shoe dangling by its laces from his mouth. He whined pitifully and Caroline forced herself up. “All right, all right,” she relented.
Chapter Thirteen
Two hundred yards before reaching the ruins of the old house, the oyster gravel road forked into a narrow lane that led to Sadie’s house. Like the road to the main house, it had never been paved and probably never would be. According to the will, everything from the byroad to Secessionville Creek now belonged to Sadie, and technically the ruins sat in the trees and thick scrub on Sadie’s side of the road.
When Caroline was ten, her mother considered donating part of the property to the City of Charleston, including the overseer’s house—where Sadie lived—along with the slave quarters and a good portion of the surrounding wetlands. Today, nothing remained of the slave quarters. The rows of white wooden houses had been completely demolished, much to the dismay of the Historical Society. Flo made a public show of their demise, calling it a “gesture of continuing good will.” But Caroline thought maybe she’d done it partly to appease Augusta, who had begun to show a passion for civil rights causes. Now all that remained of the original structures was the overseer’s house and the burnt remains of the original house.
The sun was setting, and the shadows were growing, like specters squeezing out from every crack and crevice. The wind whispered long-forgotten secrets and the scent of the marsh was strong in the air.
Caroline was pretty sure she was only spooked because of the recent news, but she couldn’t help concluding that innocence was an obvious casualty of knowledge. The more she buried herself in headlines, the less she could see of any wholesome goodness in the world. Maybe that was another reason Flo had closed herself off from her daughters? To protect them?
As they passed the gravel road, Augusta peered down it, shuddering. “I don’t know how she still lives there.”
Caroline glanced down the road, where Sadie’s blue porch was barely visible.
Augusta contorted her face into a mask of confusion. “It doesn’t seem to bother her that her bed sits right smack in the same room where a man once slept who beat slaves.”
Caroline couldn’t change the past so she didn’t care to rehash it. All she could do was make sure she was a part of change for the better.
Tango sniffed the ground with interest.
Augusta turned to walk backward, staring up at the massive oaks draped with Spanish moss. “I mean, Mother saw our roots here, our history. I see Roots—the movie!”
Knowing better than to engage Augusta, Caroline nodded and hoped for a change in subject. She really thought Augusta spent entirely too much time begrudging and running away from the past.
How was that different from Caroline spending years resenting Flo—and Jack—for past wrongs?
If she could be completely honest with herself, she had used Jack’s indiscretion as a reason to bail because she had feared ending up like her parents—lonely and bitter—and utterly alone in the end. Jack’s words hurt mainly because they were mostly true.
Tango stopped abruptly, barking in the direction of the woods.
Augusta turned and stopped.
They spotted the man hidden in the brush at the same time.
Instinctively, Augusta moved protectively toward Caroline and Caroline tugged a little at Tango’s leash. The hair on his back stood on end and a chill raced down Caroline’s spine.
“Evening,” the man said.
Perhaps in his mid-thirties, he was easily was one of the most attractive men Caroline had ever seen. His blond hair was shoulder length, and looked a bit like spun gold under the glow of the waning sun. He wore a week’s worth of stubble that on anyone else might have looked unkempt. On him, with those angelic blue eyes and a smile that seemed genuine and easy, it made him look like Jesus.
For a moment, she thought he might be cradling a football in his hand, but she could see now that it was a shoe.
Tango continued barking.
“Lovely evening,” the man said when neither Caroline nor Augusta responded.
He stood about fifty feet away and made no attempt to come closer, but the hair at Caroline’s nape prickled faintly—much like Tango’s.
Augusta looked at her, confusion in her deep blue eyes.
Tourists sometimes stumbled onto their property, lured by the historical landmarks and the Confederate gravesites nearby. As children, it had been a common occurrence to run into strangers, but at the moment, everything seemed more sinister. Simply knowing there was a killer out there, somewhere, changed everything, and although Jack might blame her for the shift in the neighborhood’s mood, the truth was that keeping the truth quiet didn’t change facts: someone had killed a girl just a stone’s throw from their house and Amanda Hutto was still missing.
Caroline bent to soothe Tango, petting his haunches. “Did you realize this is private property?”
The stranger tossed the shoe back and forth between his hands. “Yeah,” he said, looking a little sheepish. He shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry ’bout that . . . I was checking out the ruins back here.”
Augusta leaned to whisper. “Jesus H. Christ, he’s fucking beautiful!”
Caroline ignored her. She didn’t care how beautiful the guy was. This was no time to blindly trust strangers. “That’s all right,” she said. “No harm done, but if you don’t mind . . .”
“The ruins are private property too?” He shifted the shoe to his hip and held it there as he waited for her reply.
The wind shifted between the trees and another chill raced down Caroline’s spine. “Yeah.”
“Interesting,” he said and he pointed in the direction of Fort Lamar Road. “I’m renting a house down the road, spotted the ruins while I was out running.” He shrugged, and lifted the shoe, as though to highlight the coincidence. “Anyway, here you go.” He reared back and, without warning, tossed the shoe in their direction.
Augusta held out her hands to catch it, but Caroline never took her eyes off the stranger. The shoe whizzed past her head and she was vaguely aware that Augusta caught it.
Tango turned and whined, sniffing the shoe, then turned back to bark at the intruder. That was all the incentive Caroline needed to get the hell away from him.
“Figure it might belong to one of you,” the guy offered. “Expensive shoe . . . and fairly new. Someone must’ve lost it out here.”
“Thanks!” Augusta said with a friendly wave. Caroline glanced briefly at the shoe and another chill jetted down her spine. It was the match to the shoe Tango had been carrying around in his mouth for weeks.
Tango suddenly lunged in the stranger’s direction, unrelenting in his barking, and Caroline pulled back at the leash, her heart tripping.
How many innocent women died because they didn’t trust their gut?
Right now, hers was screaming.
Caroline looked directly into his eyes, and he seemed to read her thoughts. He knew she recognized the shoe. She could see the acknowledgment in his eyes.
“Well, guess I’ll be going now. You two have a good evening,” he said, and smiled congenially before turning and sauntering off in the direction of the ruins without looking back.
Caroline watched him go, unwilling to turn her back on him. “Augie . . . do you have your cell phone on you?”
Tango stopped barking as the guy disappeared into the woods, but the hair on his spine was still ruffled and so were Caroline’s nerves.
Augusta seemed genuinely confused and oblivious to the significance of what had just happened. “Yeah, I always have it handy. Why?”
“Because that’s Mother’s shoe,” Caroline told her.
Her sister’s confusion bled into her tone. “This shoe?” She turned the shoe over, inspecting it, checking the sole. Just as the guy had said, it was fairly new, and other than a little mud in the tread, it didn’t appear as though it had been in the woods long. Augusta peered from the shoe to Caroline, shrugging. “So?”
“It’s the match to the shoe Tango’s been running around with.”
Augusta screwed her face. “You’re overreacting, Caroline! You’re scaring yourself with your own
press. Call it a hunch, but that guy’s no killer! And, guess what, he’s gone now—without even giving me his number!” Augusta laughed, but Caroline didn’t share her amusement.
There was no sign of the stranger, but the shadows were deepening by the second and Caroline was finished with their walk. “Yeah, well, how the hell do you lose a running shoe in the woods?”
Augusta gave her a mischievous grin and lifted her brows. “For starters . . . maybe Mom wasn’t running?” She gestured in the direction the stranger had gone. “Make no mistake, if that guy were standing in front of me, I’d happily lose more than my shoes!”
“Someone tried to break into Mom’s study,” Caroline reminded her.
“But they didn’t! Think clearly, Caroline. Even if there is a killer on the loose, why the hell would he break into our house, steal a stupid shoe and then meet us in the woods to offer it back?”
Put like that, it sounded utterly ridiculous, but Caroline couldn’t shake her unease. “To warn us maybe?”
Augusta laughed. “Yeah . . . that’s really funny. Since when do murderers warn their victims? Come on . . . let’s go run your theory by our future mayor. Josh should be at the house by now and Sadie’s been cooking all day.”
Caroline’s article earned Jack a big fat warning.
Chief Condon slammed the door on his theory, warning him to do his job without perpetuating rumors of a possible serial murder—that included within the department. No one doubted the Jones case was a premeditated homicide, but Jack was told to work with what he had: One body. One death. One killer.
At this point, they were batting zero with forensic evidence, but he was still waiting on tests from the lab. If Jones had been sexually violated, at least they would have DNA to work with.
To drown someone suggested a crime of passion—the act of holding the victim under water, the struggle. It was a very intimate way to kill someone. Usually, a strangler’s motive was fury and his victim was no stranger. Yet the hyoid bone in Jones’s neck was still intact, which meant that no hands or bindings had wrapped around the victim’s throat in anger. It was all very cool and calculated.
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