Missing Pieces (12 page)

“Amy spent the night in Julia's room. Is that correct?” Gilmore asked.

“As far as I know she did. She was there when we left and she was there when we came back the next morning. She said she was planning on spending the night.”

“Did you see Amy manipulating any of Julia's medical equipment? Maybe doing something with her IV?” Gilmore asked.

“No, why?” Sarah asked. “Why are you so concerned about what happened in the hospital room?” Gilmore's face gave away nothing. “Do you think Amy did something to her there?” Sarah asked. “If so, I didn't see anything. Except for the seizure. I saw the seizure.” Sarah knew she was rambling.

Gilmore scratched his neck and stood. “I think that'll be all. Thank you for coming in. I do appreciate your time.” Sarah stayed in her seat, taken back at how quickly the interview had ended.

Why was Gilmore so worried about who was in the hospital room alone with Julia? Did he think that whoever pushed her down the steps wanted to make sure they finished the job? Gilmore had his sights on Amy. Though she barely knew her sister-in-law, she wasn't sure she could see her murdering Julia. She saw the way Amy was with her aunt; she heard the way Jack described their relationship. It just didn't seem plausible. She thought about how roughly Dean had grabbed Celia's arm. He seemed to be the more volatile one. Or maybe even Celia. The way she had reared back and struck out at Dean seemed so out of character for her.

Another thought crept into her head and she tried to push it away, but still it nagged at her. What about Jack's dad? Jack had mentioned that he thought he saw his father at the hospital. Was it a trick of light or an overwrought imagination? Or did he really see him? Was it so far-fetched to believe that a man who could kill his wife could come back and kill his sister?
Yes
, Sarah scolded herself,
it is far-fetched
.

Sarah looked up and found the sheriff observing her curiously. “Was there something else?” he asked.

Sarah bit her lip, not sure if she should bring up the subject, but decided she might not get another chance. “I know that Jack's mother was murdered. I also know that Jack's father was the prime suspect. What I don't know is whatever happened to him.”

The sheriff tightened his grip on the pen he held in his hand, his gaze on her intensified. “You've talked to your husband about this?”

“He's told me the basics. The rest Hal and Celia filled in for me. I also found some articles online.”

“Ahh.” He tapped his fingertips together. “Then I don't quite understand what you need from me.”

“I just want to know if he's dead,” Sarah said more loudly than she intended. She glanced toward the door and lowered her voice. “From the article I read...”

“On the internet...” Gilmore interrupted.

“It said that John Tierney was missing. I just want to know if he was ever caught or arrested or if he's dead.”

“And the internet didn't give you the answer?”

Sarah shook her head. “I didn't get that far.”

Gilmore sighed heavily and rubbed his neck. “Well, since it's a matter of public record, I guess there's no reason that I can't tell you. I have no idea whether John Tierney is alive or dead. Every few years or so, someone calls in a sighting, but it never amounts to anything. You want my best guess? I think he's probably dead and buried somewhere by now.”

“What about the rest of the case file? For all intents and purposes, it's a closed case. Am I able to take a look at it?”

“Mrs. Quinlan, I must say, I'm a little confused here. I ask you to come in to answer some questions about the death of your husband's aunt and all of a sudden we're having a conversation about the murder of his mother. Why in the world would you want to look at the case file?” Gilmore asked, tilting his head as if seeing her in a new light.

Sarah knew she sounded a bit crazy. The sheriff was right—what kind of person would want to leaf through the details of a crime of the mother-in-law they'd never even met? “I just want some answers,” Sarah said, knowing that this wasn't a convincing argument in her favor.

“I'm afraid I can't help you there,” Gilmore said, moving toward the door. “Murder cases are never truly closed. And since John Tierney has never been charged and convicted, technically it's still open. Come on, I'll walk you back to the lobby.”

“What about the Freedom of Information Act? Don't I have the right to review the case files?”

Gilmore's earlier patience was quickly being replaced by irritation. “True, but that requires a lot of forms to fill out. Then the paperwork has to be processed. By the time that happens you'll be long gone. Plus, the case isn't officially closed, just suspended. You wouldn't have access to all the evidence.”

“I'm persistent,” Sarah pressed.

“Let me give you a little advice, Mrs. Quinlan.” Gilmore set her with a solid gaze, and it was all Sarah could do to look right back at him. “Maybe there's a reason Jack doesn't want you to know what happened to Lydia Tierney. Some things are better left dead and buried. Maybe this is one of them.”

“You know,” Sarah said firmly, “I'm not some ghoul who's interested in the gory details of a thirty-year-old murder. I just want to help my husband.” This wasn't exactly true. At this point, Sarah was more interested in uncovering the truth as to why Jack had been lying to her, but she couldn't exactly tell the sheriff this.

Gilmore regarded her intensely, and Sarah could tell he was debating whether or not to speak further on the matter. Silence filled the room, but Sarah refused to relent. She kept her gaze fixed on him, a trick she'd learned from interviewing subjects during her days as a journalist. Finally, Gilmore spoke.

“John Tierney was the main suspect in the death of his wife, but he disappeared before we could interview him. The sheriff at the time believed that there was enough evidence to close the case. To answer your question, is John Tierney alive or dead? I really can't say, but has he shown his face around here since?” Gilmore folded his arms across his chest. “No way. And the answer is still no. You can't look at the case file. Could you send Dean on back?”

Sarah stood to follow Gilmore and her purse caught the edge of his desk, causing the contents of her purse to scatter and the file folder on the sheriff's desk to flutter to the floor. “Dammit,” she muttered, and bent down to gather up the items.

Her eyes landed on the piece of paper that slid from the file folder labeled Julia Quinlan—Toxicology. Three words jumped out at her:
sodium fluoroacetate: positive.

Gilmore bent over and quickly picked up the file folder and piece of paper, returned them to his desk and leaned over to help Sarah.

“I've got it,” she said, shoving the items back into her purse and trying to memorize the words from the toxicology report—
sodium fluoroacetate
. She vaguely remembered coming across them somewhere else, but couldn't quite recall where.

She got to her feet and offered a rushed goodbye to the sheriff. She hurried down the hallway, back to the lobby, eager to process the information she had uncovered. Why would the medical examiner order a toxicology report for Julia, who supposedly died due to a blow to the head? The questions that Gilmore had asked her had very little to do with the events that led up to Julia's fall. Which in hindsight made sense. Sarah and Jack weren't even in the state when Julia fell, so it was logical for the sheriff to focus on what happened at the hospital after they had arrived.

Sarah had a pesky feeling that something more may have occurred in the hospital room the day Julia died. In her limited worldview based on
Forensic Files
and
Dateline
, toxicology reports usually meant poison. Did Amy poison Julia? It also meant that everyone who had stepped inside Julia's hospital room was a suspect. Including Jack.

9

SARAH RETURNED TO
the lobby to find Dean flicking through an outdated
Field and Stream
magazine and Hal dozing. Celia was standing, arms crossed, looking out the window. Jack still hadn't returned from his walk.

“The sheriff wants to talk to you next, Dean,” Sarah said.

“What did he ask you about?” Dean questioned.

Sarah wasn't sure how she should respond. Whether Gilmore said it out loud or not, they were now all suspects in Julia's death. On the other hand, Gilmore hadn't instructed Sarah to keep the questions he asked her quiet. “He just asked me about what happened at the hospital. He wanted to know if I was aware of any family quarrels. I told him I wasn't.”

“But you told him about how crazy Amy was acting at the hospital, right?” Dean asked, glaring up at her.

“I told him that Amy was upset,” Sarah explained, taken aback by Dean's irritation with her.

“Upset?” Dean came to his feet and angrily tossed his magazine aside. “Amy wasn't upset, she was out of her mind.”

Sarah held back a sharp retort. She tried to remember that Dean had just lost his mother unexpectedly and violently. Of course he wanted everyone to cooperate with the investigation and answer all questions as thoroughly as possible.

“I'll tell him myself,” Dean snapped before stalking back to the sheriff's office.

Sarah was anxious to learn more about the drug mentioned in the toxicology report—sodium fluoroacetate. Could Amy really have poisoned her aunt? Sarah knew she should just step back and let the sheriff do his job, but she was tired of all the secrets that were floating around Jack and his family. She felt as if all these secrets had settled into the bones of her marriage, eroding what she knew to be true and good into something almost unrecognizable.

“I'm going to go outside and get some fresh air for a few minutes. Wait for Jack,” Sarah told Celia, who nodded distractedly and turned back to the window. Hal was still dozing in his chair, snoring softly.

Sarah pushed through the glass doors that led to the parking lot. The sky was clear and the midmorning sun felt good on her skin. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the rays and surveyed the street for any sign of Jack. He was nowhere to be seen. She settled onto a wrought-iron bench situated beneath a beech tree.

Sarah pulled out her phone, searched
sodium fluoroacetate
and quickly learned it was nasty stuff. The rodenticide, also known as 1080, was outlawed in the late '80s in all but a handful of western states. Sarah felt a chill run through her; 1080 was a term she was familiar with from growing up in Montana. Sarah knew that 1080 was tightly regulated in her home state and only allowed for use in livestock collars that protected sheep and goats from coyotes.

Sarah jumped to where the symptoms of poisoning were listed: vomiting, abdominal pain, seizures, ventricular arrhythmia. Sarah wished she would have gotten a better look at the toxicology report in the sheriff's office. Did the sheriff find the substance at the hospital or at Amy's house?

It was clear to Sarah that this was no longer the case of an elderly woman accidentally falling down the stairs or even a crime where in anger someone caused Julia's fall. This, if the sheriff's suspicions were correct, was cold-blooded murder.

A shadow passed over Sarah and she glanced up from her phone to find Margaret Dooley standing over her. Her bland brown sheriff's department uniform was incongruous with her teased red hair and bright makeup. “Sarah,” she said, “what are you doing out here?”

“The sheriff wanted to talk to all of us about Julia. I'm done with my interview and just waiting for everyone else.”

Margaret squeezed in next to Sarah on the bench, setting her large leopard-print purse between the two of them. “Is Amy still here?”

“As far as I'm aware. Do you know if she's been formally charged with anything? We haven't been able to talk to her yet and from what I've heard she's refusing a lawyer.”

Margaret pursed her lips together and shook her head. “That Amy. She doesn't make things easy for herself, does she?”

“Were Jack and Amy as serious when they were little as they are now?” Sarah asked wistfully.

“Oh, no. They were silly just like all kids. Probably because Mrs. Tierney was so much fun. She was always singing and playing with the kids. I'd come over and she'd be sitting at the kitchen table coloring with them or playing Chutes and Ladders. She'd create these scavenger hunts for them—they'd go outside with a list of things to find, things like a bird's feather or robin egg's shell or spider's web.

“I remember I would sit at her dressing table and try on her makeup and perfume. She had a closet of pretty things. Most of the time she wore jeans and tennis shoes, but when she dressed up, she seemed so glamorous. Once a month, Mr. Tierney would take her into Cedar City for dinner and dancing.”

“They got along okay?” Sarah asked.

“I guess.” Margaret shrugged. “They seemed crazy about each other. I never noticed any problems but...” She trailed off.

“What?” Sarah prodded.

“I don't want to talk out of turn, but everybody thought Mrs. Tierney was kind of a flirt. My mother's friends would go on and on about how Lydia would smile at and joke around with their husbands.”

“But that doesn't mean anything. Were they jealous?”

“Lydia was so pretty and sweet, and a few of the women didn't like the way their husbands looked at her. My mother and Lydia were great friends. She would get so mad when people started saying that Lydia and her flirting were crossing a line. I'm just saying that maybe some of the other mothers might have thought so.

“Now, Mr. Tierney...” Margaret held up an index finger. “He was one handsome man. Jack's the spitting image of him, you know?”

“Yes, I've seen a picture,” Sarah murmured, not wanting Margaret to stop talking, eager for any tidbit of information about Jack's past.

“He was so quiet, never said much of anything when there was a crowd around. But when he drove me home after babysitting, though, he was so nice, asked me about school and my friends. Real personable.” Margaret gave a girlish giggle. “I was half in love with him.” Sarah must have given her a strange look. “Oh, it was nothing like that,” she scoffed. “John Tierney was completely in love with his wife. He was just making polite conversation when he drove me home. Nothing untoward in his behavior at all.

“I babysat for the Tierneys until Jack was around eleven, then they didn't really need me anymore. Jack was old enough to watch after himself and Amy. Plus, I got a part-time job at the pharmacy in town. Didn't see so much of the Tierneys after that. Just at church.” A sudden breeze swept past and Margaret patted her hair to make sure each lock was still in place.

“It must have been a shock when you heard about Lydia's death and now with what has happened with Julia...” Sarah trailed off. It was almost too much to wrap her head around. She had never known anyone who had been murdered and now, all of a sudden, she had learned that two people related to her husband had died violently.

“The whole town was shocked when Lydia died. Up until that time, there hadn't been a murder in Penny Gate for fifty years. My mom was inconsolable. Like I said, she and Lydia were best friends. After the funeral, she didn't get out of bed for a week. Now, with Julia—” Margaret shook her head so that her turquoise earrings swung back and forth “—not too many people know what's going on. It won't take long, though, especially with the sheriff questioning Amy and the search at Hal's farm.”

“Margaret,” Sarah began cautiously. She knew that this conversation could only go one of two ways: awkward or awful. She was hoping for awkward. “Have you ever seen Lydia's case file?”

“Oh, no,” Margaret said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a pack of gum. “I'm just a dispatcher. I'm not supposed to have access to files.” She offered a stick to Sarah, who declined. Something in the way that Margaret answered the question prodded Sarah forward. She had the sense that even though Margaret technically wasn't supposed to read any of the case files, it didn't stop her when her curiosity got the better of her. She had the feeling that Margaret read every case file she could get her hands on.

“I just feel like if I have a chance to read the police reports, maybe see the case file, I'll understand what Jack has gone through. If I'm able to answer my own questions, then maybe I won't feel the need to have Jack tell me himself and dredge up all kinds of bad memories. What do you think? Can you help me?”

Margaret chewed thoughtfully on her gum. “You could just put in a request at the courthouse.”

Sarah shook her head. “I'll be gone by the time the paperwork goes through and the sheriff doesn't seem particularly enthusiastic in helping me out on this. And like you said, the case is closed. They already know who did it.”

From their brief conversations, Sarah could tell that Margaret was fond of Jack and Amy. But even more than that, Sarah thought that Margaret might be a little lonely, and secretly helping Sarah with her covert operation might add a little excitement to her life.

Margaret leaned in close to Sarah and lowered her voice. “You know I could get in trouble. Maybe even lose my job over this.”

Sarah held her breath. She could almost hear Margaret's inner dialogue as she wrestled with her decision. Sarah would be gone in a few days and when would anyone else, in her lifetime, ask her to sneak into the sheriff's locked files?

“I'll do it,” Margaret whispered, almost as if she was talking to herself.

“Thank you, Margaret.” Sarah impulsively reached for her hand. “I really appreciate it. You have my number, right?”

The sound of someone clearing his throat caught them off guard and both women's heads swung forward.

“Ladies,” Sheriff Gilmore said.

Margaret rose from the bench, snatching up her purse. “Hello, Verne, I'm just heading in.” She consulted her watch. “I still have five minutes until I clock in.” To Sarah she said, “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Quinlan.” She stepped past Gilmore and moved toward the front doors.

“Margaret giving you an earful?” Gilmore asked, taking the seat that Margaret had just occupied.

“She seems very nice,” Sarah said diplomatically.

“Well, you want the best gossip, the Dooley women are the ones to consult.”

“I don't think anyone's very concerned about town gossip right now,” Sarah pointed out. “We're more worried about finding out what happened to Julia and laying her to rest.”

Gilmore shook his head regretfully. “You're right, that was insensitive of me.”

“Are you finished interviewing everyone?” she asked. “That went quickly.”

“Not quite. I still need to visit with Hal. But I do have a request for your presence.”

“My presence?” Sarah asked in confusion. “By who? Is it Jack?” He hadn't returned to the sheriff's office as far as she knew unless there was an alternate entrance.

“No, it's Amy,” Gilmore said carefully, watching her reaction with his gunpowder-gray eyes.

“Amy wants to talk to me?” Sarah thought she must have misheard him. “Why?”

“That's the million-dollar question, now isn't it, Mrs. Quinlan? Why would your sister-in-law choose to speak to you and not anyone else? Not to us, not to a lawyer, not even her brother. Just you.”

“I don't know,” Sarah answered honestly. She couldn't fathom why Amy would want to talk with her unless it was to give her hell for calling for help when Sarah couldn't rouse her from the couch the night before. “You've had her in custody for the past eighteen hours and she hasn't told you anything?”

“Amy's not in custody. She's free to leave at any time. She keeps saying she wants to help us and we've been asking her a lot of questions that she doesn't seem to have any answers to.”

“Maybe because she doesn't know the answers,” Sarah said.

The sheriff, not looking convinced, stood. “Shall we?”

“Right now?” Sarah's fingers tightened around the metal slats that made up the bench seat.

“She really wants to speak with you. I think it'd be best if we went right now.”

Reluctantly, Sarah stood and together they walked back to the main entrance. “Got a call from the medical examiner. He's finished his work and Julia's remains will be transported to the funeral home tomorrow. The family can go on and finalize funeral arrangements.”

“What did he say?” Sarah's heart started to gallop as she thought of the covert peek of the report she had gotten in Gilmore's office.

Gilmore fingered his mustache. “Cause of death is pending. Results won't be shared until his final report is ready.”

“He must have told you something. What do you think?” she asked.

“I think I'll wait until I see the final report before weighing in on it,” Gilmore said cryptically.

Sarah let this sink in as they entered the lobby where Hal, Dean and Celia sat waiting.

“Sheriff, can we wrap things up here?” Dean asked. “We have a lot to do to get ready for my mom's funeral.”

“Sure thing. Just let me get Mrs. Quinlan squared away here.” He signaled to the female deputy who came to his side. “Tess, please take Mrs. Quinlan down to see Amy. You can put them in the small conference room.”

“Why would Amy want to talk to Sarah?” Hal asked, and then hearing his own bluntness, softened his tone. “I just didn't realize you two were close.”

“We're not,” Sarah admitted.

“I'm sure that Amy has good reason to want to talk to Sarah,” Celia spoke up from her seat. The pale, delicate skin around her eyes was swollen and blotchy, and the sleeves of her sweatshirt were pushed up, revealing a bracelet of bruises ringing her forearm. Sarah suddenly realized what toll Julia's death had taken on her. Celia had been the one to fill Julia's hospital with photos and the quilt from home. She had spoken so fondly of her mother-in-law but never mentioned her own parents or immediate family. Who was she left with? An explosive husband, her husband's flighty cousin, a grief-stricken father-in-law and an ex-boyfriend who lived a thousand miles away.