by Kate Young
He gaped as if it were ludicrous for anyone to believe a woman could prefer Paul to him. Then his eyes bugged. “Then maybe Paul killed her. You know, jealous because she chose me, and enacted revenge. He was there. Had time and motive.”
I gave him a level look. Sure, blame the victim who was strapped to a chair with a bomb around his neck. “Paul is the most unassuming man I’ve ever met. He doesn’t fit the profile of a murderer. Not to mention, he’s been abducted. If the crimes are linked, Alex, how does that make any sense?”
Alex leaned forward. “I hate to burst your bubble about that guy, but he probably isn’t what he seems. What do you really know about him? Nothing, right?”
I matched his posture. “I know enough to say he isn’t a killer! And someone is using him as leverage, and I won’t let him end up dead. And right back atcha, buddy. What did you know about Lucy? Obviously, not nearly enough and you married her.” It was a low blow, and I instantly regretted it. “Alex”—I reached out and tried to take his hand, but he snatched it away and got up—“I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I’m all discombobulated.” I pulled a tissue from my pocket and wiped my nose.
Alex paced the kitchen. I’d said too much. Alex wasn’t ready to hear any of this, and I’d been selfish to throw his issues right in his face. I had to get myself together and put my feelings aside for the greater good.
Alex braced his hands against the counter and lowered his head. I couldn’t handle seeing him so distraught.
“Alex, please, what can I do? I hate that we’re at odds. Hate that you’ve seen me as your enemy. I would never intentionally hurt you. Ever.”
He shook his head and then, a moment later, he turned around. “I know that. And I’m sorry for the horrible way I behaved at the department. I was way out of line. My life is a mess of my own making. Not what happened to Lucy, but with us and the family. Forgive me?”
“Yes. Certainly. Always.”
Our gazes locked in shared pain and desire for normalcy. For closure.
“I have a favor to ask. It’s a big one.”
I waited.
“Would you be willing to have a conversation with the Carmichaels?”
I leaned back farther against the chair. “I don’t think that’s such a great idea.”
He closed the distance between us, pulling a chair close to me as he sat. “I can’t stand the idea they believe I’d do something like this. She was my wife. And despite the deception surrounding our marriage, I would have done right by her.”
“Of course you would have.”
“See, you know that. Because you know me. If they hear it from you, the kind of man I am, they’ll focus on pushing the detective to focus his effort on actually solving the case, instead of wasting time looking at me.” Alex’s eyes were wide, pleading.
On one hand, this could be disastrous. On the other, I might gain some insight into who Lucy was before she reinvented herself in Peach Cove. It might aid me in seeing what was hidden. Plus, Alex’s predicament disturbed me. The detective did have his sights trained on him, or at least he wanted me to believe he had. And if the Carmichaels made their suspicions known, it was highly probable Detective Thornton had been on the up-and-up with me.
“Well?” Alex wrapped his hands around my tissue-stuffed ones. “Will you do this for me?”
His demeanor and tremulous tone reminded me of myself and the other people at my support group when they first arrived. It was desperation mixed with an out-of-control feeling. Life had become an overgrown monster who had us by the throat and refused to release us. No one should have to experience such turmoil or fear. “I will.”
CHAPTER 28
I spoke with Eddie the next morning on my way into work. He sounded stronger and more himself. I’d missed the steadiness he brought to the family and our community. But I was happy to be able to offer it to him now. Lindy was by his side, and for that I could never repay her. He’d even grumbled playfully about the flavorless diet they had him on and how Lindy was being a drill sergeant, making him follow the rules to the letter. God love her. Our family gained an angel when she joined. I promised him when I recovered, I’d be working on some recipes to improve his meal plan. I heard the smile across the phone. My cold had given him no reason to question my absence. And Sam and Lindy had kept the case from him. Wise. All Eddie needed to concern himself with was getting well.
I hadn’t been contacted by the abductors again and jumped every time my phone rang, and had butterflies when I refreshed my email or checked my snail mail. Going on every day, like all was fine, when I knew Paul was being held against his will was brutal. The rest of the island didn’t seem to share my feelings, and that made me sad. We should care about all our residents, whether they were newcomers or not. Tourism had brought wealth back to our island.
I finished icing forty cinnamon rolls and thanked Hannah for all her help as I rounded the corner with a tray of replacements for the front display case.
“Just in time.” Jena Lynn took the tray from me.
The diner sounds were soothing to me. Forks on plates, low rumble of conversation, and occasional bursts of laughter. I busied myself with refilling mugs with piping-hot coffee.
“This place is hopping.” Mr. Mason smiled and held up his mug. The man reminded me of an overstuffed teddy bear with his round face and fluff of chest hair always peeking up from the opening in his button-down shirt.
“It certainly is.”
“Can’t complain about that.”
“No sir, no complaints here.” I moved down the counter refilling mugs and trading smiles.
“Where’s Betsy?” I overheard Mrs. Foster ask Rebecca when she approached to take her order. It happened all the time. I’d reassured the girl on numerous occasions that she was as good at her job as Betsy, and soon she’d have regulars of her own. In time, customers wouldn’t constantly be asking for Betsy. It had nothing to do with her service but everything to do with familiarity.
“She’s off today,” I answered to save Rebecca the trouble. “Can I get you a cup of coffee? It’s fresh.”
“Yeah, I’ll take a cup. Make sure the mug is clean. I want one just out of the dishwasher. Last time there was lipstick on the side.” Mrs. Foster shook her head.
“You got it.”
Rebecca followed me to the back to retrieve a mug.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Mrs. Foster is cantankerous. Just give her an extra slice of bacon, extra crispy, and act like you didn’t notice the mix-up, and she’ll be happy as a clam. That’s what Betsy does.”
Rebecca nodded. Her long brown ponytail swung with the motion. “I just don’t understand it. I’ve been working here for a year now, and I’m still referred to as the new girl.”
“And you will be until someone else comes onboard.” I placed a steamy mug onto her tray.
“Look at it this way.” Sam passed us, tying on his apron. “You’ll always be the pretty young new girl. Not an old’un, like Marygene here.” He winked at her and she fell into a fit of giggles. Sam had that effect on women, a chip off the old block, as they say.
“You look like you’re feeling better.” Sam pulled a tray of chuck patties from the walk-in.
“I am. Thanks.” I smiled.
“You should see Dad. He’s charming all the nurses when Lindy isn’t around, trying to get them to sneak in a burger and fries.”
I laughed and shook my head, not at all surprised. “We’ll come up with a good alternative. Our suppliers sent a brochure about a new plant-based meat product. It’s pricey, but I’ve been wanting to expand our menu to include more vegetarian options anyway. I have a recipe for meatless meatballs I’m dying to try.”
A lot of our new tourists had asked about such options. It could be profitable. We could start out with a limited menu and then expand if it did well.
“It’s a good idea. Though, I won’t be having any fake meat.” Sam thumped his chest. “Me carnivore.”
That
gained him a few chuckles. And we started toward the front.
“Any news on Paul?”
I kept my smile fixed in place, trying hard not to show my nerves. No news in this situation wasn’t exactly good news. “Nothing yet.”
My brother’s face suddenly became serious, and he reminded me so much of Eddie. “Marygene, be careful. Dad can’t take much more in his current state.”
My heart sank within my chest. I had no desire to cause my father distress. But I never did, yet somehow it just happened.
“Don’t get involved, as much as you want to help. I know your heart is in the right place, and it’s admirable, but for once, think of yourself and your family first.” He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead.
“I’m always thinking of my family,” I managed to croak out.
He gave me a head nod, and I patted his shoulder as he slid behind the grill line and I numbly walked back to the front. My sister sidled up next to me as I was putting the pot back in its place.
“Alex is here with Lucy’s parents.”
I closed my eyes; I’d completely forgotten about my promise to Alex, and my brother had just asked me to steer clear. If only there was a way to help my brother understand my predicament. The best I could do, under the circumstances, would be to tread lightly and take care. I’d only help in safe ways, from this day forward.
“You want me to ask him to leave? I will. It’s really bad form for him to show up here like this.”
Rebecca be-bopped over with a bounce in her step. “Marygene, the table in the back is asking for you.”
“The nerve!” Jena Lynn was incensed. “I’m going to take Alex outside and give him a piece of my mind. I told him to wait and let me speak with you and look at him! Pressing. He’s used up all my sympathies. I’ve tried to overlook the fact he treated you poorly and then pointed the authorities in your direction as if he believed you to be capable of such a horrific thing. You’ve been mistreated, and someone tried to kill you, for heaven’s sake. And all of this is in relation to his life.” Jena Lynn began taking off her apron. “Well, I’m not taking this lying down another second. If he thinks he can continue this abhorrent behavior, he’s going to have to go through me.”
“Dang!” Rebecca exclaimed.
I knew firsthand how surprising it could be to see my sister go off like this. Her personality didn’t lend itself to this sort of behavior.
I put my hand on my sister’s arm, halting her advance around the counter. “It’s okay. Don’t get all stressed out. Let me deal with him.”
“Are you sure?” My sister’s amber orbs were watering with emotion.
I wrapped my arms around her neck and held on to her. My sister always smelled wonderful, much like Mama used to.
“I’m so grateful for you. You’re a wonderful sister and the best business partner in the world.” I released her, and she stared at me, shell-shocked.
“Well, I love you too.” Her angelic smile was now fixed back into its proper place.
I returned her smile and quickly moved around the counter, snatching three laminated menus on my way. “Good afternoon, and welcome to the Peach Diner.” I handed out the menus. “Can I start y’all off with coffee or some drinks?”
“I think we’ll just have coffee, young lady,” Mr. Carmichael said, and I relayed their order to Rebecca and met the sad hazel gaze of the man who’d lost his daughter in one of the most horrendous ways. The lines around his eyes were deep, and the dark circles and bags were evidence of his heartache.
His wife, with her neat plaid skirt and white blouse, nearly broke me when I made eye contact. The steel-blue gaze was distant and hollow. I tore myself from her and asked Rebecca for three coffees and some pastries for the table.
Alex rose. “They’ve agreed to speak with you. I’ll leave you to it.” He escaped like a thief in the night, and I wanted to join him.
Instead, I slid into the booth. Emotion welled up and a soft sob broke from my lips. I couldn’t control it. I placed my hand over my mouth and glanced away. The overwhelming sense of loss and grief consumed me.
I took a wobbly breath and faced the couple. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael. No one should ever have to endure such grief.”
“No. No one should,” Mrs. Carmichael said, her tone low.
Rebecca placed three mugs on the table and filled them all to the brim with hot coffee. She dropped the creams. “Are we ordering?”
Mr. Carmichael shook his head and waved a hand, dismissing her. “Alex said you wanted to speak with us. Why, I haven’t the faintest idea. But we’re here.”
Alex shouldn’t have put me on the spot like this. He was supposed to be the liaison, not run and hide like a coward. I regretted ever agreeing to this.
“Honestly, Alex asked me to speak with the both of you.” I took a sip from the mug.
“Is that so. Well, I suppose that makes more sense. I knew it seemed an odd request, especially since the police considered you a suspect and we’d obviously harbor some prejudices against you because of that fact.” The man placed both hands on the table.
“Mr. Carmichael, I had absolutely nothing to do with your daughter’s death. She and I weren’t best friends or anything, and our relationship was complicated for sure, but I didn’t wish her dead. Nor would I even have the ability to harm her if I did. I come from a background of abuse, and I would never, ever inflict that sort of fear or agony on another person.” I glanced from Mr. Carmichael to his wife, who still sat with a vacant stare.
“So you say.” The man glared down his nose at me. “From what I heard, you despised her.”
How to respond to that without causing more pain and offending this grieving couple stumped me for a second. I cleared my throat. “I honestly never spent enough time with your daughter to really get to know her. The person she was deep down.”
“Deep down.” He sighed. “She’d been an angel once.” The older gentleman took a sip of black coffee and cast a sad glance toward his wife. “The girl who left our home wasn’t our little girl, not the one we raised to be a kind, caring individual. You see, Miss Brown, our daughter left home with some ragtag, claiming to be in love. We told her we would in no way support a marriage to a man without a solid career or means to support her. She broke our hearts.”
Mrs. Carmichael began digging into her purse, placing her wallet, keys, and nail polish amongst other personal items on the table.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I had no idea she told you about Alex, and I assure you he isn’t a, as you refer to it, ragtag.”
Mr. Carmichael’s phone rang. He pulled the phone from his front pocket and groaned. “It’s Garrison. Will you be okay if I go take this?” He shook his head as Mrs. Carmichael continued to place her items on the table, ignoring his question. The man was obviously concerned about his wife’s mental stability. Not that I blamed the woman. Losing a child must be the worst trauma on the planet.
With a quick evaluation, the man looked me over appraisingly and must have decided I would do no harm because he left his wife alone with me to answer the call.
“No.” Mrs. Carmichael spoke for the first time since arriving.
“I beg your pardon.”
“No,” she said again. “The boy wasn’t Alex.” She held a picture out to me with a shaky hand.
I took it and examined the image up close. A tall, thin girl stood laughing poolside. Her hair was wrapped up in a scarf; wisps of blond hair spilled out.
“That’s my Lucille. That’s the real Lucy. This girl, the one whose body lies on a cold slab in the morgue, isn’t her.” A sob broke through, and she covered her mouth with a napkin.
I couldn’t stop the tears as they spilled over my cheeks.
“She got lost along the way, and I always thought we’d get her back. Now . . . now it’s . . .” The woman sobbed.
“I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t help.” I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “But it’s all I know to
say. I want the responsible person caught. I hate, and I mean hate, what happened to your daughter.”
Our gazes locked, and something was shared between us.
I wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but I believed the woman understood me in that moment, as I did her. “I will do anything and everything in my power to help the authorities find her killer. I’ll answer any questions you have if it will put your mind at ease.”
“You didn’t do this, child.” She reached across the table and gave my hand a quick squeeze before putting it back in her lap. “I see the goodness in you. My husband won’t. He’s too hurt to be able to see anything other than his grief.”
That was understandable, and I told her so.
“My girl was beautiful, loving, and wanted to become a nurse. She almost had her degree when that boy came into her life.” The tears flowed freely down her cheeks now. “He wasn’t a good boy. I mean, he acted like one. Said all the right words and offered all the appropriate assurances. But he pushed for marriage because of her trust fund, and her father and I knew it. They barely knew each other before he popped the question without a ring. He put the notion of backpacking through Europe in her head and said they’d live off the land, which Lucy found romantic.”
To be swept away by a man you were enamored with and who offered you a life of fun and adventure would be appealing to any young woman. Years ago, I had a similar experience with my ex and made the same mistake of buying his lies. Thankfully, I’d broken away before it was too late for me. It seemed Lucy and I had more in common than I’d realized.
“He turned her against us. Got her addicted to drugs. She changed, my little girl, it felt like overnight. One day she sat in our kitchen chatting away about her plans, her friends, and her adventures, and the next . . .” She pulled a few more napkins from the dispenser on the table. “She . . . she was replaced by a stranger begging for money and threatening to leave and never return if we wouldn’t release her trust fund and agree to allow her to marry without a prenup. The last words I ever uttered to her were, ‘Don’t call me when your life is ruined, expecting me to pick up the pieces.’ ”
