by Debra Webb
He should have gone after her.
“I had my suspicions,” Arlene confessed. “But I never knew for sure. Vi never said a word—I imagine because Sasha told her not to. It was like what happened to Sasha’s parents. We never discussed it. I tried once and she said no and that was that. We respected each other that way, son. When you get older you realize how important that one thing is. When your loved ones vanish one by one and your health goes by the wayside, you still got your self-respect and the respect of your good friends—if you’re lucky.”
Branch shook his head. “Part of me wants to raise hell. She kept this child from me for twelve long years.”
“Would that fix anything?” she asked. “Make you feel any better?”
He downed his bourbon, winced at the burn. “Not likely on either count.”
“Well, there’s your answer. If I had my guess, she kept this information from the girl, too. She’s going to have herself enough trouble explaining that decision. She won’t need any trouble from you on top of that. I think a little patience is in order. And maybe some understanding. She was young and terrified. She’s already done all the hard work. Now all you have to do is enjoy. She’s a beautiful girl and, from all the things Vi told me about her, smart as a whip to boot.”
Branch nodded. “We’ll figure this out.”
Arlene smiled. “I think you already did.”
“I think you’re right.”
He had a daughter. A beautiful daughter who was smart and who deserved the best dad he could be.
“I guess I should call the folks.”
“You might want to have another sip of that bourbon first. Your mama has been pining for a grandchild for years. She will be over the moon.”
His cell vibrated and he slid it from his pocket in case it was Sasha. He checked the screen and frowned. Not Sasha. “Hey, Billy, what’s going on?”
It was a little late in the evening for the chief of police to be making social calls. Branch braced for trouble. He’d had a text from Sasha not an hour ago, so hopefully all was well with her.
“Hey, Branch, I’ve got a situation you need to have a look at.”
Oh, hell. “What’s the location?”
“Alfred Nelson’s place. Looks like a suicide but there’s a strange note.”
“On my way.”
When he stood and tucked his phone away, his grandmother frowned up at him. “You have to go?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for the advice and the drink.” Though it was a good thing he hadn’t taken more than a sip.
“Not to worry, son. I’ll finish it off for you.” She shot him a wink.
Branch gave her a hug, her body so frail beneath his big arms. “Love you, Gran.”
“Love you. Now you be nice to Sasha. She’s had enough troubles in her life. She deserves good things and she’s just given you a miraculous gift. Enjoy it. Don’t fret over how long it took her to get around to giving it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
On the porch, he settled his hat into place and headed for his truck. His grandmother was a very smart lady.
* * *
ALFRED NELSON LIVED ALONE. His wife had died four years ago. According to Burt Johnston, who knew everyone in the county, Al, as his friends called him, had been instrumental in Alexandra Lenoir being hired in the planning and zoning office. He’d also gone to bat for her big promotion two years later. Though he had worked in that office for a half a dozen years before she came along, he had not possessed the degree he felt the supervisory position deserved. He had insisted that Alexandra was the right person for the job.
It appeared that at some point after lunch today he had decided to end his life. He’d tied a length of clothesline around the ceiling fan and made a noose. Then he’d climbed back up the ladder, put the noose around his neck and stepped off the rung. The ladder had been knocked onto its side by his swaying body.
But before he’d done all that, he’d written a note to Sasha, explaining that her parents’ deaths were his fault. He hadn’t really meant for everything to turn out the way it had, but he’d made a terrible, terrible mistake. He’d gone to their house with the intention of killing Brandon Lenoir and taking Alexandra far away to be his. He had wanted to have her all to himself for a very long time. But things had gone wrong and a struggle over the gun had taken Alexandra’s life. He’d then killed Brandon Lenoir and attempted to make it look like a murder-suicide. His voice was the one Sasha had heard that night. It was all him.
“What do you make of his confession?” Billy asked, his tone heavy with skepticism.
“About the same thing you do, I suspect.” Branch shook his head. “This would mean that Alfred was the intruder, and we both know he was in no physical condition to be running through the woods, much less to break into anyone’s home. When Sasha spoke to him today, he warned her to stop digging and that some evils were too big to stop.”
The strangest part of the entire scene were the empty file drawers in his home office. Any personal or professional papers he had kept were gone.
“Someone is tying up loose ends.” Billy watched as the coroner’s two assistants removed the body from the scene.
That was the part that worried Branch. “I should talk to Sasha about this before she hears some other way.”
“Devlin Packard is still missing,” Billy warned. “I don’t know if this is his work—frankly, I don’t think so—but he’s part of this somehow. I’ve got this feeling that his disappearance and all this are not just coincidence.”
Devlin was another of those pieces that simply refused to fit into a slot, like long-missing puzzle parts that were too faded and misshapen to go into place. Yet it was instinctively understood that those pieces belonged in this particular puzzle. There were apparently a whole slew of secrets among the players from twenty-seven years ago and each of those secrets fit together somehow.
“Did you talk to Leandra Brennan again?” Branch wondered if Billy had gotten the same story he did.
“As a matter of fact, she was very forthcoming about her relationship with Sasha’s mother and her father. Brennan thinks that during the time she had the affair with Brandon that Alexandra was involved with Alfred.” Billy hitched his head toward the body bag. “Perfect timing for her to offer up that previously withheld information. Funny how that keeps happening.”
Branch shook his head. “Give me a call if you learn anything new.”
Billy gave him a nod. “Will do.”
From the Nelson residence, Branch drove to the Lenoir house. Sasha had told him that she and Rey were spending the night there. He wasn’t happy about the idea but at least she wasn’t alone.
The porch light was on as he climbed out of his truck. He walked past Rey’s car. Sasha had left her rental at Rey’s. The backyard was completely dark. He wasn’t happy about the idea that someone could get all the way to the house from the woods without being seen. For insurance purposes Viola had kept the power and water turned on to the old house, but she hadn’t exactly ensured the maintenance was taken care of. Sasha needed to bear that in mind.
He knocked on the door. Half a minute later it opened and Rey beamed a smile at him.
“Branch.” She opened the door wide. “Come on in.”
He followed her inside and Sasha appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Hey.”
He gave her a nod.
“I’ll get back to work.” Rey flashed Sasha a smile before bounding up the stairs.
“Is everything okay?” Sasha asked, her expression as uncertain as he felt.
“Billy called. Alfred Nelson is dead.”
“What happened?”
“He appears to have committed suicide. He left a note addressed to you.”
He repeated the contents of the note and she immediately started to shake her head.
“He insisted that he thought of my mother as a daughter,” she argued. “He helped her get the job, pushed for her promotion—both of which sound more like what someone would do for a daughter. I didn’t get the impression that he was lying to me or that his feelings were anything other than platonic. This doesn’t make sense.”
“None at all. And, by the way, in her statement this afternoon to Billy, Leandra Brennan just happened to recall a possible affair between Nelson and your mother.”
“We’re too close.” Sasha’s gaze locked with his. “They’re worried, so they’re attempting to cover all the bases. They hadn’t counted on me remembering anything from that night. They thought they’d shut me down.”
“They still could.”
She looked away. “I’m being careful. Rey is here with me.”
“Promise me you won’t take any chances, Sasha. I don’t like that you’re here instead of at my place.”
“I’m grateful you feel that way, Branch. I honestly didn’t know what to expect after you learned the secret I’ve kept all these years.”
“The decision you made was as much my fault as it was yours,” he said. As much as he wanted to be angry, that was the truth of the matter. “If I had behaved differently, you might have felt more inclined to be forthcoming. Either way, what’s done is done. We should go from here, not dwell in the past.”
She hugged him and for a moment he couldn’t move. Maybe it was the shock of her sudden display of affection. Finally, he hugged her back. Whatever else they were, they were friends. They had a daughter. There were a lot of things that needed to be worked out, but this didn’t have to be one of those things.
When she drew back she crossed her arms over her chest in a protective manner. “We’re going through everything in the house. If there’s anything else to find, we plan on finding it tonight.”
“Keep the doors locked and stay on alert. Billy thinks someone is tying up loose ends.”
The idea made way too much sense and Branch did not like it one little bit.
She nodded. “We will.”
“Call me if you need anything. I’m only eight or nine minutes away.”
“I’ll call if we need anything. I promise.”
As much as he had hoped she would ask him to stay, she didn’t. She needed space and time. He understood that. Still, this was not the best time to want distance.
But Rey was here.
That was the only reason he was able to climb into his truck and drive away.
Even then he didn’t feel particularly good about it.
Nine minutes later he was in his own house and ready to call it a night, though he doubted he would sleep a wink.
Notification that he had received a text message had him reaching for his cell. The message was from an unknown number. A New York area code. Not Sasha. Her name and number were in his contact list.
He opened the message and read the words.
So, I hear you’re my dad.
His heart surged into his throat.
Sasha had told her.
He hadn’t anticipated that happening so fast.
Yes. I apologize for the delay in being around. As long as you let me, I plan to make up for it.
Holding his breath, he hit Send.
He didn’t breathe again until another text message appeared.
I can handle that.
He smiled and typed a quick response.
Great.
Then he called his parents.
His mother answered on the second ring. “Is everything all right, Branch?”
“Everything’s fine,” he assured her. “I know it’s late, but this couldn’t wait.”
Chapter Seventeen
Thursday, March 28
It was barely daylight when Sasha awakened the next morning. She and Rey had stayed up far too late going through drawers and boxes and closets. She’d spent a lot of that time talking to Brianne. She’d at first thought she would wait until she was back home to talk to her in person, but considering her grandmother had just died and the rest of what was going on, Sasha had decided a live video chat was the perfect compromise.
Brianne had taken the news in stride. She’d been waiting a long time to learn the identity of her father. Sasha was grateful for her patience and her understanding. One of her first requests was for his cell phone number. Branch had let Sasha know that Brianne had contacted him.
Sasha was particularly thankful that Branch was handling the news so well. For years she had worried about how this would all go down. She should have known her daughter would handle the situation well. Brianne was a very well-adjusted and confident young girl. Sasha was very proud of her.
Branch was a lucky guy to get a daughter as awesome as Brianne.
Sasha ventured into the kitchen. Rey had brought wine and bottled water but she hadn’t thought of coffee. Sasha needed coffee badly. She could probably run into town and grab coffee and muffins or something before Rey was up The woman had been like a mini tornado last night. They’d gone through nearly everything in the house. There was nothing else here—nothing that helped with the case, anyway.
So much had happened the past couple of days. There was no question now about whether her parents were murdered or not. They were. Several suspects had come to their attention. Leandra Brennan, Alfred Nelson, Jarvis Packard, Seth Keegan and Hadden Roark. Then there was Devlin Packard. But Sasha had him pegged as a witness rather than a killer.
She grabbed her purse, the keys and her phone and eased out the front door. Locking it behind her, she dropped her phone into her bag.
“You should have listened to me.”
Sasha whipped around to face the voice.
She recognized the face from her Google search. Devlin Packard stared at her, his eyes wide with fear or uncertainty—perhaps insanity.
Her first thought was to scream. She resisted the impulse.
“Devlin.” She reminded herself to breathe. “I’m glad you came back. I’ve been trying to find answers. I could use your help.”
He stared at her, his expression trapped somewhere between fear and distrust.
“Would you like to come inside? I was going for breakfast. I can bring you back something to eat.”
She prayed he was hungry.
He grabbed her by the arm. “You have to come with me now.”
Her bag and keys hit the floor.
Fear surged into her throat. Now would be the time to scream. But if she did, any trust she had built with this man would vanish.
Could she trust him not to kill her?
She reminded herself he’d had opportunities before and he hadn’t killed her.
He moved faster and faster across the backyard. Dew on the knee-deep grass dampened her jeans. She stumbled in an effort to keep up with his long strides. They hit the tree line and she realized where they were going. The rising sun was abruptly blocked from view by the dark woods.
“You were living in the shack when my parents died.”
He yanked her closer as if he feared she might try to take off.
Sasha allowed him to draw her nearer and she didn’t fight him. He needed to sense that she trusted him. If he had seen something—if he knew anything about what happened that night—she needed him cooperative.
Her heart was pounding hard by the time they reached the shack. He pushed her through the door and followed her inside, leaving the door standing open, perhaps for the meager light. Still, the interior remained in near-total darkness. She wished she had her phone for the flashlight app.
“You shouldn’t have come back asking questions. Big mistake. Big mistake.” He was agitated, shifting from foot to foot, shaking his head.
She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to remember what she had seen inside this shack. An old quilt. Some trash
.
“I just wanted to know what happened to my mom and dad.” She said this softly, quietly, like the child she was when her parents died. Strange, no matter how many years had passed, she still felt like a hurt and lonely child when she allowed herself to be transported back to that time.
“They’ll kill you just like they killed them.” He leaned close to her. She fought the urge to shudder. “That’s why I came back.”
“Thank you.” Keep him talking. Rey would wake up and realize she was gone. She would call Branch.
“I found out you were back and digging around. You should have just buried your grandma and gone back to the big city. You shouldn’t have started asking questions. I knew they’d find out and do to you what they did to them.”
“Who?” she asked. “Who hurt my parents?”
He shook his head again, moved toward the door, stared outside as if he feared someone might have followed them. “They’re dead. Can’t bring them back.”
Was he talking about her parents?
“We should call the police and tell them what really happened,” she urged. The more agitated he grew, the more nervous she felt. But he knew something. She was certain.
He swung around and glared at her. “Are you crazy? The police can’t stop them. No one can.”
Fear swelled inside her. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
For a few seconds it was so quiet she could hear him breathing, could hear the blood sweeping through her veins.
“Your mother let me stay here because she felt sorry for me. She was nice to me.”
“Were you in trouble?”
He glared at her. “I was always in trouble. I couldn’t do anything right.”
“So my mother was helping you.” Sasha mustered up a smile. “She liked helping people.”
He shook his head again, so hard it couldn’t have been comfortable. “She shouldn’t have helped me.”
“Do you think they hurt her and my dad because she helped you?” If her heart pounded any faster it would surely burst from her chest.
“They think I don’t know but I do.” He looked outside again. “They’re coming for me. I’m too tired to hide from them anymore. I can’t keep running.”