Mark had arrived at the office at six. He’d left Annie sleeping, looking like an angel. He’d waited until eight o’clock to call Ms. Birch. The fact that he’d slept at all the previous night had been a miracle. Or maybe not. Baring his darkest secrets to Annie had left him exhausted and somehow liberated. He’d actually slept for five straight hours. He hadn’t done that in forever. Not when he went to bed sober.
Call it a hunch, but his gut said the call Annie had gotten from Mr. Birch’s number could lead them somewhere.
“What has he done now?” Ms. Birch asked.
“Like I said, his number came up.”
“I haven’t seen or spoken to him in a month. We separated. You might want to look for him in jail. I heard he got another DWI.”
Connor walked in.
Mark held up a finger. “Do you know where he’s living?”
Mark had learned the call had bounced off a tower in a town halfway between here and Austin.
“I heard he was with his sister who lives in Burnet. But I think he was arrested.”
The line beeped with another call. Glancing down he saw it was from the front desk. Mildred probably wanting coffee. “Can you give me his sister’s number?”
After jotting it down, he thanked her and hung up. “Hey,” he said to Connor.
“I got a meeting at eleven with a judge today in Jordan County about getting a warrant to talk to Sarah Reed. I suspect he’ll only do it if a psychologist speaks to her. So it won’t happen quickly. I’m also going to take another ride up to Pearlsville and see who doesn’t have an alibi for the time of the shooting.”
“Good,” Mark said. “That was the wife of the Jimmy Birch whose phone called Annie yesterday. The wife suggested he might be in jail.”
A clearing of a throat had Mark looking at the door.
Mildred, with an I-come-bearing-gifts smile, stood there. At her side was a petite blonde. A blonde who looked familiar.
“He’s not in jail,” the woman said.
“What?” Mark asked.
“Jimmy’s in rehab.”
Realizing why the woman looked familiar, he stood up. She appeared older, and somehow harsher, but she could be Annie’s sister. “Fran Roberts?”
She nodded. “I hear you’ve been looking for me.”
“We have. Come on in.”
Mildred walked out. Ms. Roberts walked in. “Do you know where Annie is?”
“We might.” Mark sat on the edge of his desk.
She tightened her eyes, showing a hint of annoyance. “Someone at her apartment told me she’d been shot. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes rounded. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah.” He stood up. “Why don’t we move to the conference room? It’s more comfortable.” He stopped at the door.
She didn’t move. “Do you know who shot her?”
“Not yet,” Mark said. “Do you?”
She shook her head. “You think I…I’ve been in rehab.”
“All this time?” Connor asked.
“Yes. Call them.”
“We will,” Connor said.
She frowned at his partner.
“This way.” Mark led the way. The woman’s heels tapped against the tile floor. Mark didn’t walk fast; he needed a few seconds to figure out his approach.
When they were all seated, he looked up. “Why were you trying to call Annie Lakes?”
“I heard a detective from Anniston was looking for me, I assumed it had to do with her.”
“Why would you assume that?”
“She lives here.” Was she purposely being vague?
“And if you had to guess what this was all about, what would you say?”
She hesitated before answering. “That Annie finally did something that I wish I had the courage to do a long time ago.”
“What’s that?”
She tilted up her chin. “Report the murder of Jenny Reed.”
Mark leaned forward. “Who killed her?”
“I don’t know. Do you think that’s why Annie got shot?”
Mark debated his answer and went with the truth. “I do. Do you think someone in your family would’ve done that?”
She sat there as if contemplating. “I don’t know. I haven’t been as close to them. I saw my mom some, but not much.”
“Your ex said you told him someone in your family was trying to shut you up. Did someone threaten you?”
“Sort of. I was drunk at the funeral. Annie and I…talked about Jenny. Someone heard us.”
“Who?” Mark asked.
“I don’t know, but my uncle George drove me home. He screamed at me that I needed to forget about the past. That it’d cause all kinds of hell if it got out.”
“Did it feel like a threat?”
She hesitated. “He was angry. But he’s always angry.” She looked down at her locked hands.
Mark continued. “That night at the park. Do you know who was burying Jenny?”
She lifted her gaze, and again Mark got the feeling she’d seen too much ugly in the world. “Didn’t Annie tell you?”
Mark settled back in his chair. “Ms. Lake’s memory is spotty.”
Fran inhaled. Exhaled. Her hands shook. “It was Patrick Reed. My uncle.”
“He killed her?” Connor asked.
“He said he didn’t do it. He said it over and over again. He was acting weird.”
Mark studied her. “If he didn’t kill her, who did?”
“I don’t know.”
It was the first time he heard a bit of lie in her tone. His frustration rose. “Who tried to kill Annie?”
“I don’t know!” Tears filled her eyes.
“Then why didn’t you tell the police that morning?” Mark asked.
“Mama said I hadn’t seen what I thought. That Annie and I were making things up, and if I told the police, she’d take a belt to me.”
Tension filled the air. “You think your mom did it?”
She flinched and Mark saw how difficult it was. “I don’t want to believe it. But she’s the one who told me to lie. Said to tell them that I had seen Jenny go under the water.”
Mark recalled Annie’s memory of that. “Was she playing in the water?”
“The day before. She got in over her head. I grabbed her. She’d swallowed so much water she puked.”
Connor shifted in his seat. The scrape of the chair legs cracked the silence. “You’re saying no one in the family said anything else about what happened to Jenny? Not even after all those years? As if she didn’t exist?”
She closed her eyes as if remembering. “I found…a picture of Jenny once in my aunt Sarah’s room. I told my mom and she went ballistic. She charged into Sarah’s room, yelling at her. She slapped Sarah, and Sarah cried for days. I felt terrible.”
Fran became silent and looked away at the wall. “When my mom got drunk, she got mean like the rest of them.”
“Was she drinking at the park?”
“Everyone was.” Fran paused. “Well, not Annie’s mom. She never drank. The only one who escaped the ugliness of this family was Annie. Her dad was different, too. Even when they lived in town, we only saw them on big holidays. I heard her mom say her husband was mad about her coming on the camping trip. After that night, they moved away. I never saw Annie again until the funeral.”
Mark took it all in. It was exactly as Annie had remembered.
“And you never asked your mom what happened to Jenny?” Disbelief rang in Connor’s tone.
Fran frowned. “Yeah, and I got my mama’s handprint on my face for asking. The Reeds followed the rule that kids were to be seen, not heard. Unfortunately, I had a big mouth and wore my mama’s handprint way too often. I left when I was seventeen.”
Mark spoke up. “It’s not that we don’t believe you. We just want to understand.”
“Understand?” she said in a numb voice. “I’m thirty years old and I’ve been trying to understand all my life. Why they
are the way they are. Why I’m like them!” Tears filled her eyes. “I had to leave my daughter because I was afraid I’d end up like Mom.”
Mark reached behind him where they kept tissues and passed them to her. She dried her eyes. “I love my daughter. That’s why I went into rehab. My ex said I couldn’t see her until I got sober.” She stared at the tissue. “He threatened that before, but this time a switch just turned inside me. I didn’t want to be who I was. I want to be a family. My daughter and husband.” She wiped her eyes and then laughed. “Why am I telling you this?”
Mark remembered last night. “Sometimes unloading one secret leads to another.” He paused. “How well did you know Patrick Reed?”
“Enough to know you stayed away from him when he got drunk. Of all my uncles, he was the meanest.”
“Did he ever assault you?” Connor asked.
“He slapped me once when I mouthed off to Mom.”
Mark hated to ask, but… “Was there sexual abuse?”
She made a sound from the back of her throat. “They weren’t perverts, just mean drunks.”
“Can you tell me about that night at the park?” Mark asked.
She took a deep breath, then released it as if it were too big. With pain in her voice, she told the same story that Annie had. When she finished, she asked, “If someone shot Annie, are they going to come after me now?”
“Not if we catch them,” Connor said.
Mark asked, “Do you know where it was you saw him burying her in the park?”
“Yeah. I went back there when I ran away. I thought if I faced it, I could deal with it.”
“Could you show us?” Mark asked.
“Yeah. But it won’t help.”
Mark’s shoulders tightened. “Why not?”
“I don’t think her body’s there anymore.”
“Why would you think that?” Connor asked.
“Because…Sarah used to take flowers to the old barn, the one way in the back of George’s house. I asked why she did it. She said flowers belonged on graves. One time my uncle George caught her doing it. He smacked her.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Mark’s phone dinged with a text. Annie’s name flashed. He glanced at Fran. “I’m going to grab a drink. Do you want something?”
“I want a Jack and coke,” she said with a wry smile. “But coffee would be nice.”
He nodded. When Mark got up, so did Connor.
The moment the door closed, Connor looked at him. “You believe her?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t help. Why’s someone trying to kill Annie if the murderer is dead?”
“Because he’s not the killer,” Connor said. “I’m heading out to see the judge. I’m asking permission to dig up the old barn.”
“Get the sheriff to go with you. He probably knows the judge,” Mark said. “In fact, let me call him. I haven’t told him about the shooting.”
Connor motioned to the door. “What are you doing with her?”
“I don’t know yet,” Mark said.
Connor walked off, Mark read Annie’s text.
Hi. You said call, but I thought I’d text.
He leaned against the wall and started typing. Hey. Sorry about last night.
He deleted it. And typed, Thanks for last night.
He deleted it. And typed, I think I love you.
Shit. He deleted it. And typed, Fran’s here. She’s fine. Been in rehab.
* * *
“Shot? When?” Adam asked.
Mark explained.
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah.” Mark leaned back in his desk chair. Fran Roberts had wanted to call and speak to her ex before they went to see Annie. So Mark took that time to call the sheriff. “We also got ballistics back on the bullet. It was a nine-millimeter, a wad-cutter bullet. We’re thinking someone used it more for target practice than a weapon. I’ve got someone checking to see which Reeds have guns.”
“I’ve already checked. They don’t have any registered.”
“None?” Mark asked.
“Nope. I checked that after I was held at gunpoint with that BB gun. As eager as she was to shoot me, I decided I’d better be safe than sorry.”
Mark continued to explain Fran Roberts showing up. How she thought they’d moved the body and buried it under the dirt floor of the barn. How she suspected her mother.
Mark asked Adam to go with Connor to request the warrant.
“Sure. I know Judge Benton. Have you told JoAnne Lakes about her daughter being shot?”
“No.”
“Would you mind if I called her?” Adam asked. “I think if she knew her daughter’s life was in jeopardy, she’d open up. She almost told me something at the interview.”
“If you think she’ll talk to you, go for it. But she’s not seeing Annie until this is solved.”
* * *
Annie changed her clothes and combed her hair, wishing she had makeup. She didn’t know why she felt like she should dress up for Fran. Maybe just nerves. The last time she’d seen her, it hadn’t gone so well.
Her phone rang. Annie checked the screen. Her mom again. She’d called twice. Each time, Annie wanted to answer. The little girl in her still wanted her mother. But Mark… She turned the phone off. She could handle only so much. Her mom issues would have to wait. So would the Mark issues.
Looking around the hotel room, she collected the paper plate that the officer had brought up to her for breakfast and tossed it in the bathroom’s garbage. When she looked up, she stared at her scared reflection.
She’d actually slept through the night, using Mark’s shoulder as a pillow. The dark circles were still there, but she guessed she looked good for someone who’d been shot. She touched her head where she had stitches.
Mark had texted her then called. Her cousin wanted to see her. Annie wanted to see Fran. Though she didn’t know exactly what she wanted to say.
Except, Thank you for coming back for me that night.
She still didn’t remember what happened afterward. But Fran’s voice kept echoing in her head. Let her go! Let her go right now!
A knock sounded at the door. She came out of the bathroom.
Mark walked in first. The second his gaze landed on her she got nervous for another reason. Him and her. Her and him. Them. Was there still a them?
He’d said a lot last night, but her gut said there was still something left to say. Or maybe it was her who needed to say something. Did she tell him it didn’t matter? That she wanted him in her life even knowing that they wanted different things?
Was she selling herself short?
She saw Fran and her thoughts switched course.
“I’ll let you two talk,” Mark said. He walked out. Annie sat down on the edge of one of the beds. “Sit down,” she said and motioned to the bed beside her.
“Yeah.” Fran moved in. Their knees almost touched.
“You look good for someone who just got shot,” Fran said.
“Mark told you?” she asked.
“I went to your apartment. Your neighbor told me. I went to the police department. A friend of mine called and said a cop from Anniston was looking for me. I figured you were behind it.”
“I was afraid…something terrible had happened.”
She smiled. “It did. I went into rehab.”
Annie didn’t know what to say to that. So she didn’t.
“I’m joking. Sort of. It was awful, still is, but I needed to be there.” She drummed her hands on her jean-covered thighs. “I’m sorry I was a bitch at the funeral.”
“You weren’t a bitch. I—”
“Yeah, I was. I was angry. Or maybe ‘jealous’ is the right word.”
“Of what?”
“You got away from all that shit.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but I’m sorry you didn’t get away. I don’t remember a lot. The day at the funeral, I didn’t remembe
r…Jenny. But then parts of it started coming back.”
“Detective Sutton told me. Said you had nightmares.”
Annie nodded. “Then I remembered you came back for me. That night at the park.” Her throat tightened. “I was terrified, but when you came back I was able to breathe. Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Yes, it was.” Annie inhaled. “Mark told me that you said Uncle Patrick was burying Jenny?”
Fran nodded.
“But you don’t know if he killed her?”
“He kept saying he didn’t do it. He could’ve been lying. They’re one messed-up bunch of folks.”
Annie nodded.
“Which is why I’ve stopped drinking.”
“I hear you have a daughter.”
“Yeah, Lily. She’s beautiful. Looks like her dad. Not that that’s a bad thing. He’s nice to look at. He’s nice. I spoke with him earlier. His parents own a lake house, and he said I could go stay there until this is over. If you need a place, you could come, too. Don wouldn’t mind. You could meet my daughter.”
“I’d love to meet her, but I have to go back to work soon.”
“Yeah.” She looked disappointed. “So you and the detective are a thing?”
Annie didn’t think Mark had told her. “How…?”
Fran grinned. “You called him Mark, and I saw the way you two looked at each other.”
“Yeah. I don’t know if…it’ll go anywhere.” Not wanting to talk about that she asked, “How old is your daughter?”
“Four.” Fran pulled out her phone to show a picture.
“She’s precious,” Annie said.
“Yeah. Here’s one when she was two, and one when she was a year and a half.”
Annie studied the pictures then glanced up. “She looks like you a little. I see it in the nose.”
Annie handed back the phone. “She’s why I’m going to do this. Stay sober.”
“She’ll be worth it,” Annie said with meaning.
“I know.” Fran stood up. “It’d be nice if you’d meet her. She thinks I don’t have a family. My mom’s only seen her once.” She bit down on her lip. “How sad is it that I’m scared to let her see her granddaughter?”
“Pretty sad,” Annie said. “But…there was a body found and they thought it was yours. She was really upset.”
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