Midnight Secrets (31 page)

As the dark figure drew closer, Harlan tensed. Something about the shadow seemed familiar. The light flickered on. Harlan gasped. Hell, this was one face he’d gladly spend an eternity never seeing again. Suddenly he wished for one of those horse-faced women to show her face, thinking she might just look pretty damn good about right now.

“What are you doing here?”

Was that weak, shaky voice really his?

“Just checking to see how you’re doing.”

Coming from someone else, he figured that might be true. For this creature, no way. They’d never been close. The only thing they shared was the big secret. Wary, he answered, “Nice of you but not necessary.”

“Oh, but it is necessary. See, one of the Wilde girls is home and delving into old history. Pretty soon she’s going to be asking questions. I can’t afford for her to come and talk to you.”

“I ain’t going to say anything. I kept it a secret for eighteen years. There’s no reason for me to tell her anything.”

“Now that you’re dying, your conscience not bothering you?”

He told himself to lie. Even as drugged as he was, he knew not to show any doubts or vulnerabilities. Before he could come up with something, it must have shown in his face.

The cold-blooded killer of Maggie and Beckett Wilde smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harlan saw something bright flicker beneath the fluorescent light. Horrified, he watched as a needle was inserted into the IV.

“What … what are you doing?”

“Can’t take the risk of you being alive if she comes to pay you a visit.”

“But … I …,” Harlan sputtered.

“There, there. It’ll all be over soon.”

Harlan’s finger grappled for the call buzzer. If one of those horse-faced nurses walked in the door, it would be the most beautiful sight in the world. He wasn’t ready to die, especially not this way. This was his reward for protecting a secret for almost nineteen years? Murdered by the killer he had protected? Where was the justice in that?

He watched in bleary-eyed horror as the buzzer was lifted away from his grasp. “Now, now. No sense bothering anybody. These people have better things to do than see to a dying man.”

“You bastard,” Harlan whispered softly. Darkness began to descend but he could swear he heard soft laughter. Was that his murderer or the devil himself? Or were they one and the same?

Closing his eyes for the last time, Harlan floated away, searching for the peace that came with death. On his last breath, he knew peace was not to be his.

Chapter

Twenty-three

“Chief Tanner!”

At the sound of a woman’s squeal, Zach slammed on his brakes. Seeing Inez Peebles on the sidewalk waving her thin arms to flag him down, he pulled over to the curb and hit the power button to roll down the window of his patrol car. “What’s wrong?”

The oldest citizen and biggest gossip in Midnight leaned into the window. “Did you hear the news?”

Backing away slightly from the strong scent of garlic, Zach said, “What news?”

She leaned in closer, her head almost inside the car. Zach had no choice but to hold his breath. The woman was convinced that eating a clove of raw garlic once a day was the key to a lengthy life. Since she was going on ninety and still walked into town four days a week for her card games, he wasn’t sure she wasn’t right. Didn’t make the smell any easier to take, though.

“Harlan Mosby died last night.”

He hadn’t heard but wasn’t surprised by the news. Last time he’d seen the man, Zach had figured it wouldn’t be long. Ashen complexioned and bone thin, Mosby had looked close to death even then.

“I’m real sorry to hear that.”

Inez cackled like a crazed hen. “Now, don’t you be lying just ‘cause the man’s finally gone on to hell. Mosby was a mean old fart and the world’s a better place without him.”

Not only did Inez have odd eating rituals, she also believed that reaching ninety years of age gave her the license to say what she thought. She rarely spared anyone’s feelings.

Since he couldn’t deny that Mosby had been a mean old fart, Zach changed the subject. “How’s your son getting along?”

Usually the subject of what she called her “no-account, ungrateful son” was a safe bet. She could complain about him for hours. Today she had more interesting things to discuss. “Guess you heard that Savannah Wilde’s been digging around for information about her parents’ deaths? She was at Faye’s Diner at the cracka dawn this morning, asking all sortsa questions. Some folks say that’s the real reason she came back home.”

A lifetime of not revealing his thoughts kept his face expressionless as he said, “Is that right?”

Her eyes blinked like an ancient owl; she was apparently startled that he hadn’t taken the bait. Undeterred, she pressed on. “Reckon she thinks there were some shenanigans going on?”

That was an odd observation. He’d never heard about any doubts that the crime had happened differently. “You were here during that time. What do you think?”

She cackled again. “I think lotsa things, Chief Tanner. Problem is, nobody pays me no mind.” Inez stepped back onto the curb. “I gotta get to my bridge game. I like getting there early ‘cause that’s when I pick up the juiciest news.”

Zach pulled away from the curb and continued on his patrol. There should be nothing unusual in Savannah wanting to know more about her parents’ death. There were any number of reasons she might be curious about the night they died. But when they’d been dating, that was one event she never wanted to discuss. So what had changed?

Her going into Faye’s Diner by herself was on the odd side. Had she just woken up hungry and decided to treat herself to a big breakfast, or was there another reason?

He gave himself a mental shake. Inez Peebles had a reputation and a knack for making something out of nothing to stir something up. This was an apparent attempt to do just that.

Besides, ten years makes a huge difference in a person’s life. Healing came with the passage of time. Maybe that was the reason Savannah could talk more easily about it now. If she had any suspicions about their deaths, she would have mentioned it to him. Last night would have been the perfect opportunity.

Their evening together had been good but frustrating. There was no one he enjoyed spending time with more than Savannah. Every smile or sigh she gave him made him want her all the more, but he hadn’t pursued anything other than those simple kisses when he left. Hell yeah, he’d spent a rough night, hard and aching and wanting her with every breath. He’d known he needed to take it slow, he just hadn’t realized how careful he needed to tread. For every step he took forward, Savannah seemed to move further away from him. He had hurt her and asked her forgiveness, but that didn’t mean their way would be easy. But never had he been more determined to win.

The radio squawked. “Chief, you there?”

Zach picked up the radio mic, answering, “What’s up, Hazel?”

“Got a hysterical call from Gibby Wilcox. Hard to understand what she’s saying. Something about somebody being dead over on Wildfire Lane.”

His heart stopped and then kicked into overdrive. Clicking on the siren, Zach stomped the accelerator and zoomed through town as if hell itself were racing to consume him. If anything had happened to Savannah, that’s exactly what would happen.

Mobile, Alabama

County General Hospital

Shocked and unsure of her next move, Savannah sat in her car in the hospital parking lot. Nothing had gone as planned. After spending much of the night tossing and turning, questions whirling like wild zephyrs in her mind, she’d woken before dawn and headed to Faye’s Diner.

The early morning crowd at Faye’s was always the older residents of Midnight. They were the ones most likely to have been around at the time of her parents’ deaths. She had told Gibby she could ask questions without seeming to want to know the answer, and that’s what she had intended. Somehow the Fates had worked against her. Maybe it was the humid, cloudy day or the thunderous-looking clouds that promised an upcoming torrential rain. Whatever the reason, the diner was almost empty. The only person who could remotely have been around at the time her parents were killed was Faye herself. Not known for her verbose personality, Faye had grunted out a few yeses and nos to her vague leading questions and then walked away.

Savannah had left the diner with no answers to her questions and a slightly queasy stomach from Faye’s corned beef hash special. To make matters worse, the instant she walked out the door, she’d run into Amy Andrews, an old friend from high school. The conversation had only lasted about five minutes, but Savannah felt as if she’d been grilled by a skilled prosecutor. The central theme of Amy’s questions had been centered around Savannah’s reasons for coming back to Midnight, interspersed with questions about Zach. Wishing for Faye’s knack for noncommittal replies, Savannah had kept her answers as vague as possible. Still, when she had finally managed to escape with a promise to call Amy soon, she still felt as though she’d given too much information.

Her day had gone from not so good to rock bottom the moment she’d walked into the hospital and asked to see Mosby. The man had died last night.

Was she being über-paranoid for thinking someone had hurried along his demise? Her job as a prosecutor had taught her to be wary, that coincidences were rare. Yes, they could happen. Mosby had been on his deathbed … she’d heard that news even before she had arrived back in Midnight. Still, she wondered. Was it mere coincidence that on the very day she started looking into a possible cover-up surrounding her parents’ deaths, the man who had investigated and closed the case on those deaths had died?

The doctor in charge of his case hadn’t bothered to hide his amusement when she had questioned him about hospital security. The idea that someone had come in and made sure Mosby died was ludicrous. The man had died of lung cancer and for no other reason. Requesting an autopsy was out of the question. Only hours after he died, Mosby was cremated. He’d had no family; his body had been disposed of in that manner per his wishes.

Other than Aunt Gibby, no one even knew that she suspected anything. And considering how upset Gibby had been, she wouldn’t have mentioned it to anyone. Since Mosby had died last night, her vague questions at the diner didn’t even come into play.

Savannah tried to push the idea of Mosby’s murder from her mind. It was too ridiculous to contemplate. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about it?

What now? Did she now go to Zach? What proof did she have yet? Absolutely none, of course. All she had were her grandfather’s vague suspicions, her own vaguer doubts, Aunt Gibby’s faint memories, and a dead former police chief. She had no doubt that Zach would listen to her concerns, but he couldn’t act on anything. Hell, there was nothing to act on. The only way she was going to uncover the truth was to keep digging.

If there was anything to her grandfather’s suspicions, someone knew something. They had to. The police and autopsy reports would be helpful, but she wasn’t going to get them until she told Zach. Why she was avoiding telling him wasn’t something she could clearly define. She knew there was still a distrust, but was it something more? After letting Henson and Clark Dayton go without charging either man, would he perhaps not bother to investigate her suspicions?

She simply had to have more proof. If she gave him irrefutable facts, he’d have no choice but to open up an investigation. But there were two people who needed to know right away. They would be as heavily invested in the truth as Savannah. On top of that, their input and expertise would be invaluable. Pressing speed dial on her cellphone, Savannah placed a call to Samantha.

“Savvy, hey,” Sammie said. “I was going to call you later. I wanted to apologize for—”

Savannah cut her off. “I need to talk to both you and Bri together. Can you hang on and let me get her on the line?”

Apparently recognizing the serious edge in her voice, Samantha answered, “Yes. I’ll wait.”

Savannah put her sister on hold and then hit speed dial for Bri.

Sabrina answered on the first ring. “Hey, Savvy, I’m headed out the door right now. Can I call you back tonight?”

“No, Bri. I’ve got Sammie on the other line. I need to talk to you both, right now.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Hold on.” Pressing the key to get Sammie’s call back, she said, “Okay, both of you there?”

Her sisters answered in unison, “Yes.”

“I was in the guesthouse yesterday and found something disturbing.”

“What?” Sammie asked.

“Did you know that Granddad wrote letters to Grandmother?”

“Yes,” Bri answered. “Remember he said he started them the day they met?”

“Yes, but he apparently didn’t stop until he died. I found letters all the way up to the day before he passed away.”

“I’m not surprised,” Sammie said. “He missed her so much.”

“But why is that disturbing?” Bri asked. “As cynical as I am, I think it’s sweet.”

“That’s not the disturbing part.” She took a breath. “In the letters, Granddad said he believed that someone else killed Mama and then killed Daddy to make it look like a murder-suicide.”

The silence that followed told her that both sisters were as shocked by the news as she had been. Finally, Sammie asked hoarsely, “Did he have any proof? What were the reasons for his suspicions?”