“What do you mean?”
“Rose admitted yesterday that she had planned to break up with me. I guess she got a full scholarship to that fancy school she applied for.” Max ran his hands through his hair. “I really wanted her to get that scholarship, and thought we were going to have a long distance relationship while she went to college.” He sighed. “Look at her life now. No school, no sister, and her mom’s in the nut house.”
“Don’t talk like that. We don’t say nut house,” Sally scolded. “Ginger couldn’t handle the pressures. I heard she carries a doll around and thinks it’s Sage. It’s so sad”
It was even worse than Max imagined. Rose’s mom had always been so good to him, treating him like a part of the family for the three years he dated Rose. “Lots of stress, thinking her future son-in-law murdered her baby. It must’ve broken her. If I found the real killer, it might help her get better.”
Sally lit another cigarette, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke upward. “Stay away from this, Max, please. It isn’t your fault, and you’ve been in enough trouble because of that Spelling girl.”
“Ma, I have to find out who killed Sage and those other girls. No one is searching for the real killer. They all just blame me.”
“Tell me something, Max, and I want you to be honest with me.”
Great. She had her judgmental voice going. “What is it?”
“Are you starting to have feelings for Rose again? It’s not healthy and will lead to nothing good.”
Max pulled his legs from behind his mom’s back and stood up, heading for his bedroom. “Starting to have feelings? I never stopped.”
Chapter Three
Rose turned off the truck’s engine and stared up at the building. Brentwood Asylum was a quarter of the way around the lake, about a fifteen-minute drive. The owners of the facility had bought the surrounding land, not developing it into a resort town like Serenity or even selling it off to be a real community like Clarkston. They kept the area’s dense forest intact behind the asylum, and the pathway to the lake was overgrown and ill kempt. The better to keep patients from escaping, she supposed.
It was actually quite depressing, but Brentwood could keep an eye on Ginger and Rose couldn’t. Most importantly, they could keep her from harming herself in the rare, lucid moments when Ginger remembered her baby girl was dead.
Though she didn’t feel particularly cheerful after the rat on the doorstep and the threat against Gizmo this morning, Rose couldn’t skip her weekly visit. She forced a cheerful smile on her face and climbed out of the truck, making her way across the rocky parking lot onto the overgrown grass of Brentwood’s lawn.
She entered the reception area, trying her best to ignore the man running around naked. A young woman in the corner repeatedly banged the back of her head against the wall, muttering quietly to herself while her eyes tracked the naked man. No nurse sat behind the large oak counter, and Rose could only guess there had been trouble that morning. Some of the patients were sensitive, and once something set them off, the nurses had explained to Rose in the past that it was difficult to calm everyone down.
Rose turned left, following the hallway that led to the first floor patient rooms. She stopped at her mother’s and knocked. “Ginger? Are you in there?”
The door was often kept locked, just so Rose’s mother couldn’t hurt herself, but Rose tried the handle anyway when there was no answer. It turned readily in her grasp, opening on to the small room.
Her mother lay on the bed, cradling the toy doll she insisted on carrying everywhere. Her hair hadn’t been brushed yet, and her clothes were rumpled and dirty. Ginger’s dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who are you?”
Great. One of those kinds of days. “I’ve come to help get you ready,” Rose said softly.
Ginger struggled into an upright position, her once slender waist bulging over ratty sweatpants. “About time you got here.” She thrust the doll in Rose’s arms. “Sage kept me up all night last night. I really need a shower.”
Knowing from past experience it would do no good to correct Ginger about the true nature of the doll, Rose held it gently as she would a real baby. “I’m happy to watch her. Should I call a nurse to help you?”
Ginger waved her hand through the air and wrinkled her nose. “Useless, the whole lot of them. I’ll do it myself.” She walked to the closet and opened it, pulling fresh clothing from hangers that couldn’t be removed from the bar. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Take good care of Sage.”
At Rose’s nod, Ginger left the room. Things must have been going relatively well lately if Ginger wasn’t being locked in all the time. Although her mother seemed to be slipping further into her fantasies, the more real the fantasy became for her, the more sane she seemed.
Taking the doll with her, Rose left the room in search of a nurse. She finally spotted one coming from another patient’s room. “Excuse me. I’m Ginger Spellings’ daughter. Can you help me?”
The nurse’s hair was falling out of the ponytail behind her head and she looked frazzled. “What is it you need to know, Miss Spelling? I’ve been taking care of your mother this week.”
“Well, I noticed her room isn’t being kept locked. How have things been?”
She glanced at the doll. “Other than my having to babysit that doll in order to get your mom to eat or bathe, she’s been an angel this week. I’m really sorry, but two girls called in sick today, and it’s kind of a madhouse. Could you keep an eye on your mother for a while? A patient said Mister Carnit stripped off his clothes again, and I need to get him in his room.”
At Rose’s nod, the woman hurried off, presumably to capture the wayward streaker.
Within fifteen minutes, Ginger returned to the room. Her hair dripped against the collar of her clean shirt. “Give me Sage. She gets scared when she’s away from mommy too long.”
Rose shook her head and placed the doll carefully on the bed, setting the pillow on the side open to the floor, just like she’d do with a real baby so it couldn’t roll off. “She’s sleeping so soundly. Why don’t we let her rest, and I can help you get your hair and makeup done?”
The old Ginger would’ve never let anyone see her without makeup. It was sad to see the changes. Rose tried to bring up the anger she usually felt for Max when visiting her mom, but found that today it just wasn’t there.
Could she really be considering the fact that he was innocent? It seemed like a stretch, but the rat on her doorstep was, oddly, making her think he was. And making her think that someone in town wanted her to keep blaming Max. Maybe the real killer.
“Hurry up, then,” Ginger grumped.
Rose looked up, realizing that her mother was sitting in the room’s only chair with the brush in her hand.
“Are you helping me or not?” she snapped.
“Yes, Mom, I’ll help you.”
“Mom?” Ginger’s eyes went suspicious again. “What are you talking about?”
“Did I say mom?” Rose forced a laugh. “I meant ma’am.”
Ginger passed the brush to her. “What’s your name? I don’t remember seeing you here.”
This was always an issue. On days when Ginger was out of touch with reality, Rose never knew what to tell her. “It’s Rose, ma’am.”
“Rose? Hmmm... Imagine that.” Ginger glanced over her shoulder, the smile that Rose remembered so well gracing her lips. “My older daughter is named Rosemary, but we call her Rose. She’s only four years old, but already a prodigy on the piano. She’s going to be famous one day.”
Rose’s spirits sunk a little lower. Sometimes when she told Ginger her name, the woman remembered her and they could talk. She sure could use her mom’s advice today. Unfortunately, only the crazy lady was in there, and she wouldn’t be good at giving advice. Especially not today. She wouldn’t understand if Rose told her she was starting to believe Max wasn’t really Sage’s killer.
***
Rose shut off the truck and rolled her windo
w up. The sun pounded through the windshield, and she knew she had to hurry inside the house. It would be sweltering in there for poor Gizmo.
The day had been more trying than usual. Rose had hoped that meant the real Ginger, her mother, would eventually come out long enough to visit, but it never happened. At least she was home now and had the rest of the day to get her housework done and relax.
As she shut the truck door, Rose noticed a blue car parked across the street. She knew that car. She’d made love in the back seat of that car many, many times.
Pulling her phone out of her pocket, Rose dialed 9-1-1 onto the screen. That way, if she needed to call in a hurry she just had to push send.
When she started across the road, Max ducked down in the driver’s seat. Yeah, like that would stop her from knowing it was him.
She tapped on the window, waiting for him to roll it down. “What are you doing here?”
“Not what you think.” His blue gaze challenged her. He definitely seemed fiercer than she remembered.
“Don’t tell me what I think or don’t think. Just tell me what you want.”
“I’m watching your house to make sure nothing bad happens to you.” He crossed his arms over his stomach.
Rose couldn’t help but notice how his biceps bulged. She’d thought he was handsome before. Now, he was dangerous...and sexy. A shudder passed through her body as she remembered how sweet and loving he used to be. His new muscles made him seem all that more interesting.
“The cops think it’s you I need protection from.” She shrugged and pocketed her phone. It might be stupid, but she trusted Max. No matter how angry he might have been when Sage told him the truth, Rose just couldn’t see him killing her. She definitely couldn’t see him leaving that rat on her doorstep.
“Cal paid me a visit,” he said. “Since I know I wasn’t here last night, and they don’t seem concerned with your safety beyond framing me again for something I haven’t done, I decided to catch whoever was doing this.”
Rose nodded her head toward her neighbor’s house. “Kel hasn’t called the cops on you yet?”
Max unbent enough to grin. “She barely got home, about five minutes before you pulled up. The cops are probably on their way.”
Kelsey worked at the same diner downtown that Rose did, Francine’s, but she took the Sunday morning shift. While Rose stared at her friend’s house, the blinds on the front window opened and Kelsey peered out at Max’s car.
Rose smiled and waved, hoping Kelsey would get the message and realize a call to the police force wasn’t necessary. She stepped back from Max’s car. “Look, it’s hot out here. How long have you been keeping watch?”
“About four hours.”
He must have arrived shortly after she left. “Well, I just got back from visiting Mom, and I’m really tired and could use a drink. You want to come in and have a cold beer?”
A strangled noise came from the car. Rose looked down into Max’s wide blue eyes.
“Come on, don’t be so shocked. We were friends for a long time and then lovers. If you’ve come to kill me or my cat, I’d rather get it over with.”
“Kill your cat?” Max opened the door and unfolded himself from the low seat. “Why would I have any interest in a cat?”
“No clue. That’s what a threatening note attached to a dead rodent said. Someone’s threatening Gizmo.” She led the way across the street, confident Max would follow.
Even more than before, the proof of Max’s innocence begged her to believe it. He seemed surprised, and she believed it was genuine. She didn’t think he left the rat. Besides, he was the one person in town who wouldn’t know how much Gizmo meant to her. Rose had never had pets before and even if Max saw Gizmo in a window or something, he wouldn’t realize how devastating of a threat that would be. But there were a lot of people who did know, so it didn’t narrow the suspect pool at all.
If by some chance it was Max leaving the threats, however, she’d rather find out now. She couldn’t stop the flutters in her chest when around him. One look at his blue eyes, and she felt giddy and eighteen again. She wouldn’t have feelings for a man who murdered people—murdered her sister. It was impossible. Max had to be innocent. Or maybe that was her silly, romantic side talking, wishing her life had turned out differently and she could take back the night Sage died.
Either way, she’d invited him inside her house. If he wanted her dead, he had the perfect opportunity. Then again, she wasn’t afraid of him. Over the last eight years, she’d learned how to take care of herself.
Chapter Four
Max looked around the tiny living room and couldn’t help but feel sorry for Rose. Sure, she might have sat in the courtroom at his initial trial on the prosecutions’ side beside her parents, judging him with hate in her eyes, but she didn’t deserve this. Her old house had been a sprawling four-bedroom home on the lakefront, and Rose had been on her way to being a music teacher. Granted, he hadn’t known she didn’t plan to continue their relationship, but he’d been so proud of the plans she had.
Now her mom burned down their home, and his beautiful Rose was stuck working like a dog and living in this dump. The threadbare loveseat looked secondhand and took up most of the room. An end table with a lamp rested against the wall. She didn’t have any artwork on the walls or a television. Probably couldn’t afford cable. Besides, Rose had always preferred to read. The house was tidy, but he should expect that. She didn’t seem to spend much time at home, and she had always been fanatical about keeping things clean.
Not daring to make any presumptions about why she invited him inside, Max sat gingerly on one end of the couch. “Thanks for letting me in out of the heat.”
“Sure.” She flashed a smile, but the warmth didn’t reach her eyes. She might be having doubts about his guilt in her sister’s death, but she didn’t quite trust him either. “I’m going to get the windows open on the shady side of the house and grab that beer.”
Being incarcerated didn’t leave many opportunities for a cold beer, but the last thing Max needed was to be pulled over after drinking one. “I’ll just take some water, if that’s okay.”
She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him further as she disappeared through the archway into the small kitchen beyond.
A large orange cat padded into the room, keeping its eyes fixed on Max. It came within two feet of him and sat on the ground. Its unblinking stare was quite unnerving. It felt like being guarded all over again.
Max wasn’t much of a cat person, liking dogs better, so it was no surprise the cat didn’t seem to like him either. “You must be Gizmo. Heard you need some protection,” he said softly, feeling stupid talking to it.
After regarding him for a few more seconds, Gizmo blinked and looked away, apparently deciding Max wasn’t a threat.
The sound of a window sliding open echoed through the small house and then Rose returned, handing him a yellow plastic cup full of water. She dropped onto the other side of the couch and cracked open a cheap can of beer, taking a large gulp. With a sigh, she settled back on the couch and closed her eyes.
“Today was hell,” she said. “I hate that place and hate leaving Mom there even more. I wish I could afford something more expensive.”
“They don’t take good care of her?”
Rose took another drink without opening her eyes. “Brentwood’s staff does what they can, but they have more dangerous patients housed on the second floor. When nurses call in sick or something happens upstairs, Mom’s floor gets less care.”
“That doesn’t sound right.”
“Most of the time that’s fine, but I worry what would happen if Mom decides to hurt herself when they’re short staffed.”
He ached to reach out to her and take her in his arms, soothe her worries away and tell her everything would work out. Instead, he took a sip of water and kept his hands to himself. She spent the last eight years hating him, so he didn’t know why he kept hoping she believed he was innocent no
w.
“She doesn’t even know I’m her daughter,” Rose continued. “She had me play the piano for her today and then ended up getting upset because she didn’t know where her four-year-old daughter, Rose, was. Took me a few hours to calm her down and get her to eat something before I left.”
Sorry seemed inadequate. “If we found the real killer, maybe it could help Ginger. I know thinking I did it must have been hard on her. She always treated me like part of the family, even if your dad wasn’t crazy about me.”
Rose turned her head toward him and opened her eyes. “I really want to believe you aren’t the killer, Max. I’ve missed you.”
“You still don’t believe, then? You think I could do something like that?” Max battled his rising anger, even though he knew before coming in that she didn’t completely trust him. “I love you, Rosemary, and I loved Sage, just not the way she wanted.” He stood, clutching the plastic cup in his hand. It was a mistake to come in here. It was still too raw, too tender.
Fear crossed Rose’s eyes as she shrank away from him.
Great. He hadn’t kept the anger away, and now she was frightened. Of him—the man who loved her more than anything. “I’ll stop bothering you.” He gulped down the water and went into the small kitchen, setting his cup on the counter. It was time to leave. This would never work out. He needed to try to forget about her, no matter how much he loved her. He still wanted to clear his name in everyone’s minds by finding the killer, but his mom was right—he needed to stay away from Rose. It would only break his heart further.
As he turned around, he smacked into her, throwing them both off balance. He clutched her shoulders, keeping her from falling. “I didn’t hear you follow me.”
Rose clung to him for a moment, softening in his arms before pushing away from his chest. “You aren’t bothering me, so don’t say that. I invited you here. I want you here.”
What was she playing at? It was clear she still thought he killed those women. She was afraid of him.
Murderous Lies Page 3