Dying to Tell (10 page)

Regret that she had not come back to see her grandfather filled Sadie as she drove back to the farm. If she had visited, maybe she’d have figured out that something was wrong.

Images of her and Amelia playing in the yard flashed back, followed by a sequence of memories like a movie clip. Papaw teaching them both to groom the horses. Stacking hay in the back of the old wagon, then hitching it to his tractor and taking them for a hayride.

Decorating the farm for the pumpkin patch sale every year, then helping him collect money from customers who drove from miles around to ride in that same wagon and pick their own pumpkins.

The good memories were peppered with the bad, though. Each year she’d begged to carve a scary-faced jack-o’-lantern, but he always refused, saying Halloween was for Satan believers. Still, he’d sold the pumpkins to other families who did the same, which hadn’t made sense to her.

He had loved the horses as much as she did. When she was six, he’d taught her how to ride. When her sister was in one of her more coherent states, she’d ridden, too.

One day stuck out in her mind. She’d been fourteen, and Amelia had just returned home from another hospital visit.

In a rare sisterly moment, they baked cookies together, then packed a picnic and rode on horseback to the creek.

They picked wildflowers, and Amelia sang songs and danced in the wind. Then Amelia laughed as they chased fireflies and caught them in a mayonnaise jar. Sadie had thought she finally had her sister home. Sane.

But then the wind picked up, and Amelia suddenly went still. She’d heard the chimes, she said. The chimes were calling to her, crying her name.

In a split second, Amelia vanished, and Skid appeared. He shoved Sadie into the creek, spooked her horse so it ran off, then rode away, leaving her alone.

Sadie sprained her ankle and had to walk half a mile to get back to the farm. By the time she made it, she’d been in pain, soaking wet, and chilled to the bone.

Of course, Amelia had remembered none of it.

It was one of her “nowhere” nights. Nights Amelia couldn’t remember where she’d been or what she’d done.

Nights Sadie would never forget.

But she wasn’t that frightened little girl anymore. She was a professional adult who would not let the insanity in her family break her.

The farm slid into view, and she grimaced. Her grandfather had aged, and she’d assumed he’d hired help to keep the place up. But judging from the overgrown pasture, the rotting fences, and the rusty, broken-down tractor in the field, he must have let them go long ago.

She pulled down the oak-lined drive, well aware that Jake was following her, relieved to see Chance trot toward the barn and a roan roaming the pasture as well. She wondered who had been taking care of the horses, but was glad to know that her grandfather hadn’t sold them.

Parking the Honda beneath the detached overhang, she climbed out, retrieved her suitcase, and drew a deep breath as she faced the house. Jake swung the squad car to a stop and dragged his big body from the vehicle. Gravel crunched as he strode up beside her, and she had a sudden urge to reach for his hand and hold on tight.

But she tucked her hands in her pockets instead.

“Let me check the house first, then you can go inside.”

Sadie was determined to remain strong. “That’s not necessary, Jake. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can.” Jake slanted her a dark look. “But sometimes crime scenes draw curiosity seekers, vandals, teens who want to gawk.”

“All right,” Sadie conceded, but only because she didn’t want to admit that being home spooked her. That ghosts were waiting for her...

He followed her to the front door and waited as she unlocked it. Sadie stepped aside and let Jake enter first. As soon as he flipped on the light, she noticed the clutter Ms. Lettie had mentioned. The hallway was full, the den overflowing with newspapers and assorted junk.

Jake strode through the downstairs, then climbed the steps two at a time while she waited in the foyer.

A musty odor permeated the air, and dust coated the furniture and walls, but the scent of bleach wafted down the steps. Ms. Lettie had said she’d cleaned up the blood.

Still, the stench of death lingered, and the empty house was a reminder of the violence that had happened.

And that her grandfather was gone forever.

“It’s clear,” Jake said as he jogged down the steps.

Sadie shoved her suitcase against the wall, suddenly feeling very much alone.

Jake’s gaze skated over her, dark and intense. A sliver of something that looked like concern, like the old Jake, flashed in his expression, making her stomach twist. “Will you be all right here alone?”

Sadie lifted her chin. “Of course, Jake. I’ve been on my own for a while.”

Anger replaced the concern in his eyes, making him look cold and harsh in the dim light. “Fine.” He handed her his business card. “But here’s my cell phone as well as the office’s direct line, in case you need it.” He headed toward the stairs. “Let me know what you learn from your sister.”

Sadie shrugged. That depended on what her sister told her. She didn’t intend to give Jake any rope to hang her with.

The thought of leaving Sadie alone in that big old house bothered Jake more than he wanted to admit. Dammit, she had left him high and dry years ago, and hadn’t contacted him since.

But pain had darkened her eyes when she was with her sister. Pain he remembered seeing years before.

No wonder she’d run.

He pressed the accelerator, the rambling farmhouse fading in his rearview mirror as he headed toward home.

It probably wouldn’t have worked if they’d left Slaughter Creek together, anyway. They’d only been teenagers, acting on hormones and lust. He’d been looking for...he didn’t know what. A way to please his father?

No, he’d never done that.

And being with Sadie sure as hell hadn’t helped. In fact, his dad had warned him to stay away from the whole damn Nettleton bunch.

Arthur Blackwood had been a tough-ass military man all the way. Rigid. Focused. Had trained him and his brother, Nick, to be the same way. And he’d had plans for them both to follow in his footsteps.

Until he’d left them without a word.

And Sadie...what had she been looking for? A way out of Slaughter Creek.

She’d found it, too. Only it hadn’t been with him.

Was someone waiting for her back in San Francisco?

Not that it mattered to him. He had Ayla and his job, and that was all that mattered.

But he had promised Grace’s mother some answers, so he turned into the entrance for the duplexes where Foley lived,
noting signs of children in the tricycles, wagons, and bikes in the yards. Several units had cars parked in the driveways, and he checked the address, frowning when he noticed it was dark.

No vehicle in the driveway either.

He grabbed his flashlight, then strode up to the door and rang the bell. Shabby sheers hung on the front windows, and when no one answered the door, he shone the flashlight inside. Dammit, no sign anyone was inside.

Crickets chirped in the background, and a dog barked. He strode around the side of the duplex and looked in another window. No one there either.

And no furniture.

In fact, the place looked as if it had been cleaned out.

Mazie had said Foley was a temp, so Jake phoned the only temp agency in town. When it rolled to voice mail, he left a message for someone to call him about Herbert Foley.

He noted a rental sign in a neighboring yard and called that number.

“Logston’s rentals,” a man said.

“This is Sheriff Blackwood. I’m trying to locate one of your tenants.”

“What’s the name?”

“Herbert Foley.”

“Foley...oh, yeah, a big guy, paid in cash for a month, then cut out.”

Jake frowned. “Do you know where he went?”

“Nope, didn’t even stay the whole month.”

“When did he leave?” Jake asked.

“Just a minute, let me check my notes.” Papers shuffled. “Okay, here it is. I went by to talk to him about mowing the yard the middle of the month, but the neighbor said she saw him load what little furniture he had in a van and drive away around midnight one night.” He gave Jake the date, and the hairs on the back of Jake’s neck prickled.

Herbert Foley had left town the same night Grace Granger took her fall.

He watched Amelia sleep. Her chest rose and fell in an even rhythm, all thanks to the drugs. But inside her head, the voices wouldn’t die.

His was going to be the loudest.

He had lived inside her for years, ever since she was a child. But he’d lain dormant, bided his time, listened to the others bicker and argue, watched them torment Amelia.

Waited till the time was right for him to take over.

That time was near.

But not yet.

He had work to do first.

“The chimes are singing,” he whispered in Amelia’s ear. “Hear them cry...”

Amelia moaned and rolled over, restless.

Laughter bubbled inside him. Yes, his voice was going to be the loudest.

And when he finally killed her, it would be the only one she heard as he put her in the grave.

M
ixed emotions pummeled Sadie as she watched Jake drive away.

How many nights had she lain awake dreaming about him after she left Slaughter Creek? Remembering the feel of his hands on her and the way he’d made her body hum with arousal.

Remembering the tender way he’d held her and the understanding in his eyes when she’d confessed her guilt over being the normal twin—her fear that one day she might be afflicted by the same mental disorder that had plagued Amelia. Her desire to run away from the terrible personality switches that had come upon her sister without warning as a teenager.

And then that one horrible night...

She tried to banish the memory, but the wind howled through the eaves of the old house, resurrecting it from the dead. It was dark tonight just like back then, a moonless night, the clouds obliterating the stars, rain pinging off the roof.

She locked the front door, willing the past to stay buried, but a tree branch scraped the window, and upstairs the floor creaked. The attic...

Was someone here?

No...Jake had searched the house. It was just the ghosts. Ghosts that had haunted her for years. They followed her everywhere she went.

She staggered away from the front door and collapsed on the steps. Her head was swirling, the room spinning, the darkness engulfing her and pulling her into that bleak tunnel she’d tried so hard to escape.

Then she was back there. Back to that haunting event.

She had just come home from prom. She and Jake had made out at Lovers’ Peak, whispering promises to each other about forever and marriage and babies. But even as they made plans, she had an uneasy feeling that something was wrong at home.

She’d never been able to read Amelia’s fragmented mind, but she’d had premonitions at times. And this one swept over her so strongly that she felt ill and asked Jake to take her home.

He wanted to come in with her, to make sure things were all right. But her grandfather had been drowning himself in the bottle too much that week, and she insisted Jake leave. The shame was too much.