Lemon Tart (31 page)

“I don’t want to hear how she deserved it, Ron,” she yelled,
surprising herself that her voice could even get that loud. “What happened?”

“She fell down the stairs,” Ron said and his eyes stared over
Sadie’s shoulder. “We were arguing in the kitchen and I tried to grab her arm
so she’d stop walking away from me, but she pulled away real fast and lost her
balance at the top of the stairs.”

Stairs?
Sadie repeated in her mind. But the family room was cleaned up. And the
tieback? She reflected on what Ron had told her yesterday, that Anne was alive
when he left her.

“And you left?” Sadie breathed, unable to comprehend how he
could have not gone for help.

“She was alive,” Ron said, tears filling his eyes. “She was
breathing and she had a strong pulse, but she was unconscious and I didn’t know
what to do. She started coming around, moaning. I panicked and I ran. I should
have called the police, I know that, but I reacted on instinct and drove
straight back to the conference. In the morning, I used a pay phone to call the
police to go check on her.”

Ah, so Ron had
called in the tip—one mystery solved—but she
had little time to ponder on it. Sadie’s instincts would never allow her to
leave someone like that. How could he be wired so different? “You must have
known she was dead when you called the police, otherwise she’d have implicated
you.”

“She wasn’t
dead,” Ron said quickly. “And I planned to come back to Garrison later in the
day—after I talked to Jack. I needed to take care of a few
things and tell my side to the police.”

“If she were still alive, you mean. You had to know that there
was a chance she didn’t survive the fall down those stairs, yet you waited
until it was convenient for
you to call the police.”

He couldn’t looked at her and she was reminded of the quote
that said a person’s character was proven in the split-second
decisions they make when they think no one will ever know. Ron had chosen to
leave, and that said a lot about his character. She felt the last shreds of
hope and commitment for their relationship to work disappear from her heart.
Jack was her brother, they had been connected their whole lives, but who she
married was up to her and she would not choose this.

“I called in the tip from a pay phone, then I went to wait for
Jack to finish his class. I was wandering around the hotel, sick to my stomach,
trying to come up with the right words when I walked past a security guard. He
was on the phone, talking to someone else about a dead girl in Garrison he’d
heard about on the scanner—he said something about an Amber
Alert for the kid. It was too much of a coincidence and I jumped in the car and
drove to Garrison as fast as I could, trying to figure out what to do, afraid
you’d seen me that night.”

“And Trevor?” Sadie asked before he had a chance to break off
the dialogue.

Ron paused there. Did everyone forget about Trevor in
this?

“I don’t know,” Ron said. “I left. I don’t know what happened
to Trevor. He was asleep when I got there. It was after midnight.”

Sadie regarded him and tried to line things up. Everything
she’d learned about Carrie’s involvement was directly tied to Trevor. Had she
simply taken Trevor? Gone over after Ron left? But why? And where was he now?
How did Anne get into the field? Why would Ron tell her this story if it wasn’t
the truth and so easily disproved? There was so much to sort through.

After a few seconds, she looked up at him. “I need you to do me
a favor,” she said, using the exact same words she’d spoken to Breanna a few
minutes earlier. She walked past him toward the phone and picked it up. “Call
Carrie,” she said. “Tell her that Jack asked you to call about Trevor. That
you’re supposed to help her.”

“Carrie?” Ron asked. He was still standing in the shadows of
the hallway, hesitant to step into the wintry light. “What does Carrie—”

She pushed the phone closer to him. “I think she has Trevor
somewhere, but I’m sure she won’t talk to me.”

“I don’t want to get any more involved in this than I already
am,” Ron said, taking a step backward. “The police are watching my house. I’ve
been afraid to go to work, to drive more than a mile over the speed limit. I’m
going to turn myself in, Sadie. I know I have to, but I wanted you to know the
whole story first.”

“Do you know that Jack confessed this morning?”

Ron’s eyes went wide and he visibly started. “What?”

“He says he
killed Anne. I thought he was covering for you, but now I believe he’s covering
for Carrie. Anne wasn’t killed by the fall, someone strangled her and dragged
her body into the field.”

“But I—”

“You owe me this,” Sadie reminded him. “After all the stews and
steak dinners I have made you while you were lying to me, hiding something this
big, the least you can do is make one lousy phone call in the hopes of saving
this boy whose mother you left to die.”

Finally, Ron took a few steps forward. Sadie dialed the number
and handed it to him before hurrying to the extension in the bedroom. She
shrugged out of her coat—she was sweating. She picked up the
phone carefully, and one ring later, Carrie answered the phone.

“Carrie?” Ron asked, his voice higher than usual. Sadie hoped
Carrie didn’t pick up on it. “I, uh, need to ask you some questions. Jack wants
me to help with Trevor. He asked me to call you and find out what you need me
to do to help.”

Carrie was silent for a few moments and Sadie held her breath.
“Jack wanted you to call?” she repeated.

“Yes,” Ron said. “He was, uh, worried about you doing . . .
it all by yourself. I want to do whatever I need to do to help. I won’t tell
anyone.”

“Is that so?” Carrie asked, her tone superior. Sadie was
confused. “Then why are you calling me from Sadie’s house?”

Oops.

Chapter 32

Three things
happened at once.
Someone
knocked at the door, Carrie hung up, and Ron swore—another
strike against him.

Sadie was frozen as the triple play took place and in the next
instant Ron appeared in the doorway of her bedroom with an angry look on his
face. “What now?” he asked in a fierce whisper.

“Answer the door,” Sadie said as she sprang off the bed and
headed for the back door. She knew it was Detective Madsen knocking. She also
knew that she had to confront Carrie herself, and she had to do it fast. “You
said you were going to turn yourself in and now is your chance. Tell him
everything.”

“But,” he said as Sadie bolted past him in the doorway. She
pulled open the back door, stepped outside, and shut it quietly before Ron had
a chance to say anything else. She walked fast toward the back gate, glad for
the privacy fence that would protect her from being seen from the street, at
least as long as she was in her own yard. She was halfway to Carrie’s back door
when she heard an engine start up. She increased her pace, but half a second
later, Jack’s truck passed the black walnut tree on its way out of the
cul-de-sac.

Carrie was on the run.

Sadie sprinted back to her own yard and fumbled in her pocket
for her car keys. Twenty seconds later she was squealing out of her driveway.
She slammed the gearshift into drive and sped after Carrie, paying no mind to
the irate detective bounding down her front steps. She blew past the stop sign
and turned left after catching just a glimpse of Jack’s tailgate ahead.

Once she straightened out she could see the back of Jack’s
truck ahead of her. Her heart was thudding in her ears and she fumbled for her
cell phone in her pocket.

“Detective Cunningham,” she said to herself, holding the
steering wheel with one hand as she held the phone up to her face. She’d called
him on her cell phone before, hadn’t she? In between glances at the road, she
scrolled through dialed numbers, but none of them jumped out at her. “Shoot,”
she said before calling directory assistance for the second time that day. She
did not look forward to her bill this month.

“Yes, I need to be connected to the Garrison Police Department.”

“Is this an emergency?”

“Yes,” Sadie said, needing this woman to hurry. She rounded the
corner Carrie had taken seconds before.

“I’ll connect you with 911.”

“91—wait. It’s not that kind of—” But it was too
late.

“911, what is the nature of your emergency?”

She grunted and hung up. Carrie was at least two hundred feet
ahead of Sadie when Sadie was forced to stop at a red light. She tapped her
fingers on the steering wheel, afraid to blink for fear Jack’s truck would
disappear. Her phone rang and she quickly answered it, hoping it was Detective
Cunningham somehow sensing her need to talk to him. Carrie turned right at the
next light.

“Hello?” Sadie said as her light turned green and she hurried
to catch up.

“Mom, it’s me.”

“Breanna,” she breathed. “Did you find out anything?”

“Yes and no,” Breanna said. “Trina’s not home, in fact she
hasn’t been home since last night when we got back to Fort Collins. And all she did was run in and
pack a bag. She told her roommate she was going back to her parents’.”

“She’s not there,” Sadie said even though Breanna already knew
that.

“I know,” Breanna said while Sadie took the same
right-hand turn she’d seen Jack’s truck make, scanning the cars ahead
of her. Sadie thought she saw the truck way ahead, and squinted in hopes of
making out the details better, but she couldn’t be sure it was Carrie.

Breanna continued. “Her roommate said Carrie picked up Trina
Sunday after Trina got off work. Trina said she’d be back Monday night—because
of midterms she didn’t have class on Monday. But then Trina didn’t come home
until Tuesday morning after nine o’clock. Aunt Carrie dropped her off and Trina
went right to bed, skipping two midterms she had that day. She only came out
when her mom called that afternoon. Then Trina called me for a ride back to
Garrison.”

Thoughts and ideas swirled through Sadie’s mind all over again.
Trina had been in Garrison Monday night? In an instant she pictured Carrie’s
calendar, the one she’d pretended to be reading when Jack had come out of the
bedroom last night. She’d seen an appointment for Trina just before Jack
interrupted her. If Trina was in town then she might have known her mother
found the documents at Susan Gimes’s office. The number of people who knew
about Anne’s deception was getting bigger by the minute.

“Oh my word,” Sadie breathed into the phone. “Breanna,” she
said sternly, her hand clenching the phone. “Trina’s shoes,” she said quickly,
as if she might run out of time to get the words out. “What kind of shoes was
Trina wearing when you saw her last night?”

“Tennis shoes, I think,” Breanna said, a question in her voice
as to why this detail was important.

“Does she own any pink shoes?” Sadie asked, praying Breanna
would say no. Trina was only twenty years old and she’d struggled to find a
life of her own. Sadie did not want to heap anything else upon the poor girl’s
shoulders, the least of which were undeserved suspicions. But ever since
talking to the girl at the grocery store she’d been stuck on the idea
of Carrie wearing pink shoes. “Does Trina ever wear pink shoes?”

Breanna paused, a pause that seemed to reflect that she knew
this was an important question. Finally she answered. “Yes,” Breanna said
quietly. “She has a pair of pink Converse sneakers. Carrie gave them to her for
her birthday last month. Last night was the first time I’d seen her without
them in weeks.”

Chapter 33

The silence on the
line was thick as Sadie absorbed what Breanna had said. Not Trina, she pleaded, not her too. She continued forward
through an intersection, looking for a glimpse of Carrie while simultaneously
wondering what she’d do if she lost her sister-in-law. She must
be going to find Trina and Trevor.

“Where would they go?” Sadie said out loud. “A hotel?” Maybe
she should call Karen Thorgood who worked for Holiday Inn; surely she could
call the other hotels in the area to ask if any of them had seen Trevor. Sadie
had taught Karen’s three sons when they came through the second grade, and she
had no doubt Karen would help her out if she could.