Southern Storm

by Terri Blackstock

  Wouldn’t Cade have had a good laugh out of this? Blair Owens sitting in jail for trespassing. And if she’d gotten into that house, she’d be in here for breaking and entering. Yeah, he may have enjoyed the irony in it, but he’d be there to get her out. She had no doubt about that.

  Morgan, on the other hand, was probably ranting and raving, waxing eloquent to Jonathan about how irresponsible and compulsive Blair was. But Blair couldn’t understand why Jonathan and Morgan weren’t trying to break into the Clark house to find Cade themselves, no matter the cost. She leaned back on the concrete wall and looked at the ceiling.

  “Please let him be alive,” she whispered to whatever Force was listening. “Please don’t let anything happen to him.” But she feared her plea fell on deaf ears—or no ears at all.

  The judge released her that morning on a thousand dollars’ bond, which Morgan withdrew from Blair’s savings account.

  “I hope you’re happy with yourself,” she told Blair as she waited for her personal items. “Now you’re unemployed with a prison record, and the money you would have used to buy the paper is down a thousand dollars.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m still buying it. Jason will understand that I got in trouble looking for Cade.”

  When she’d gotten her things, Morgan walked Blair out to her car. She and Jonathan had retrieved it late last night from the scene of the crime. Blair got in and sat behind the wheel.

  “Are you going home?” Morgan asked. “Or are you heading back over to Ann Clark’s so they can lock you up again?”

  Blair looked up at her with dull, weary eyes. “You’re not very supportive, you know that?”

  Morgan shook her head. “How can I be supportive of you when you’re breaking the law? Blair, next time you could get yourself killed.”

  “Then you do admit that Ann Clark is dangerous?”

  “I don’t know if she’s dangerous,” Morgan said. “All I know is you’ve got to stop this!”

  Blair looked at a small chip on her windshield. “I’ve got to figure out a way to get in there that’s not illegal.” She looked up at her sister. “Help me, Morgan. I’m desperate to get in that house. I know he’s in there, and I just have this feeling that if we don’t hurry—”

  “Oh, my gosh. You aren’t seriously trying to make me an accomplice to your madness!”

  “No, I’m not. You’re not criminal material.” She looked at Morgan carefully. “But I was thinking, sitting in that cell this morning. Maybe we could get Ann Clark to invite us in.”

  Morgan closed her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

  “Just listen! Mrs. Clark didn’t see me last night. I don’t think she knew anything was going on. So . . . suppose we bring her dinner, a casserole or something, and just tell her that we were from the church in Cape Refuge, and we’d heard about her husband and just wanted to come and minister to her?”

  Morgan opened her eyes and leveled them on her sister. “Go on.”

  Blair grinned. “I knew the casserole part would get you. Most people wouldn’t turn you away if you come bearing food. And we could be kind of pushy. I mean, if she tries to take the food at the door, we could insist that we get our dishes back. We could go in and start transferring the food into her dishes. If things go well, maybe I could somehow slip away and look around.”

  “What if she realizes what we’re doing? She could get violent or something.”

  “I could bring my gun,” Blair said. “Just in case.”

  Morgan gasped. “I’m not helping if you take a gun. I mean it. Are you hearing me?”

  “Fine! I won’t. So you’ll do it?”

  Morgan blew out her frustration. “I have to go with you, or I’m going to be visiting you in jail every Saturday for the next few years. Or at the cemetery.”

  “We could find him,” Blair said. “It could work!”

  Morgan looked sick. “All I’m saying is we’ll get into the house. What we see after that is up to God. He’s just going to have to reveal stuff to us. But I’m not getting you in there so you can play cops and robbers.”

  Blair grinned. “So when do we do this dastardly deed?”

  Morgan rolled her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. “Not tonight. We have to rest. We have to think and plan.”

  “Cade may not have another night,” Blair said.

  Morgan sighed. “Well, I can’t tell Jonathan what I’m doing. He’ll never let me go.”

  “So you’re going to lie to him?” Blair asked hopefully.

  Morgan shook her head. “Yeah, like the wonderful Proverbs 31 woman that I am. I hate that you put me in this position, Blair!”

  “It’s to save someone’s life,” Blair whispered. “You know it is. Jonathan will understand.”

  “I sure hope so.” Morgan blew out a long, weary breath. “All right, Blair. We’ll go tonight.”

  CHAPTER 64

  Morgan was exhausted by the time she got the casseroles made. All day, she’d dealt with Karen’s swings from despair to rage at the plight of her baby. The FBI had been staking out the bus station since yesterday, but nothing had happened and the kidnapper had not called back. And having the FBI agent there twenty-four/ seven was beginning to drain her, as well.

  It had begun to rain around noon, so Jonathan had to cut his fishing tour short. He came home early and helped with Caleb as Morgan cooked.

  “So who is it you’re going to see?” he asked as she set the casseroles into a box for her car.

  “I don’t think you’ve met her.” Morgan couldn’t look him in the eye. “She’s new on the island, and Blair and I just thought we’d go by and say hello and take her something to eat.”

  “You know, you could let Melba take this one. You’ve got a lot going on. It’s not like someone’s going to think less of you for missing one newcomer.”

  “I just want her to feel welcome. And the truth is, I need the distraction.” She hated lying to him. Several times today she had thought of coming clean and asking Jonathan to come with them. But Ann Clark was more likely to buy their story if it was just two women.

  She hoped God and Jonathan would forgive her when the truth came out.

  “I’ve already bathed Caleb,” she said, “so he should be ready for bed in a couple of hours. All you have to do is feed him. And Sadie’s going out tonight. She’s going to a wedding.”

  Jonathan frowned. “What wedding?”

  “Some girl she met when she worked at the paper. I told her she could take my car. I’ll ride with Blair.”

  He got an apple from a bowl on the counter and turned it over in his hand like a baseball.

  “You know, we never did ground her,” he said. “We should have done something.”

  Morgan sighed. “A lot’s been going on. I haven’t had time to think about it. She has so few friends, though. I thought it was nice that she was invited.”

  He nodded and looked through the kitchen door. The agents were switching shifts, and Tavist was leaving. Morgan was sick of having these people in her house, and they were no closer to finding the baby than they had been the day he was born.

  As Morgan waited for Blair on the porch, she prayed that God would forgive her for failing to submit to her husband and lying to him through her teeth. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking to agree to such a scheme. It was desperation, she thought, to keep Blair from breaking out a window or shooting her way in. And it might be the only way they were going to find Cade.

  But her own deception wasn’t so far removed from Sadie’s scheme the other night. She hated herself for going along with this.

  When Blair pulled into the driveway, Morgan saw that she looked like the perfect church lady. She had worn a dress for the occasion and pulled her hair back in a bun. The scars on her face flamed redder than usual. She got out and took the casseroles, arranged them on the backseat.

  “Where’s your gun?” Morgan whispered.

  “In my house.”

&nbs
p; Morgan grabbed Blair’s purse off the seat and dug through it.

  Blair smirked. “Are you going to frisk me, too?”

  Morgan wasn’t amused. “Should I?”

  Laughing, Blair got back into the car. “I swear, Morgan, I left the gun in the house. We’re flying without a net. Now, come on.”

  Morgan got into the car.

  “What did Jonathan say?” Blair asked.

  Morgan stared straight ahead. “Nothing. He trusts his wife. He thinks I’m going to welcome a new neighbor to Cape Refuge. I can’t believe I lied to him.”

  “Good story, though.”

  Blair was silent as they crossed the bridge to Tybee Island, then wound their way around the island and up Highway 80 to Savannah. Quiet hung between them as they got to Ann Clark’s house and pulled into the driveway.

  “All right, Blair, we’re going to get in that house, but I want you to promise me you’re not going to do anything heroic or dangerous. Do you promise me that? Can I have your word?”

  Blair just stared at the door to the house. “I’m not going to do anything dangerous. I’m just going to try to find Cade.”

  “Blair, I need your word that you’re not going to do anything stupid. I’ll never forgive you if you get me killed.”

  “I’m not, okay?” Blair opened the door and got out of the car. Sighing, Morgan got out the casseroles. Blair came around and took one of them.

  “So, how do we act?” Blair asked in a low voice. “Bouncy and happy?”

  “Just like Mom used to do,” Morgan said. “We have to act genuinely friendly and concerned or she’s never going to let us in.”

  “Okay,” Blair said. “I can do this.”

  They walked up to the front steps of the house, rang the doorbell. There was no sound within, none at all.

  “She’s got to be home,” Blair whispered. “She hardly ever leaves.” With her elbow she pressed the doorbell again and waited, then finally balanced the casserole on one arm and banged on the front door.

  “She’s not here,” Morgan said finally.

  Blair waited another few moments and finally realized that Morgan was right. Either the woman was in there, refusing to answer, or she really wasn’t here. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t been here to follow her.

  “Here.” She handed Morgan her casserole, weighing her down.

  “Where are you going?” Morgan asked.

  “Just down the driveway to see if her car is here.”

  “You can’t trespass again, Blair,” Morgan whispered harshly. “You’ll be locked up forever. If the neighbors see you—”

  But Blair kept going. “I just want to see if her car is home.”

  Morgan headed back to the car, arms laden down with hot casseroles. She managed to get them back in the box without spilling them and watched as Blair walked down to the back of the house and peered into the garage. Finally she shook her head and came back.

  “She’s really not here. Wouldn’t you know it?”

  “Then we’ll just have to try again later.”

  Blair groaned and looked back at the house. “It’s a great time to go in. If I could just find an open window . . .”

  Morgan grabbed her sister. “Blair, so help me, I will throw myself in front of a moving vehicle to stop you. You’re not going to do that tonight.”

  As she pulled out of the driveway, Blair wondered at the wisdom of involving her sister.

  CHAPTER 65

  The wedding of Trevor’s cousin was held at the home of his father’s sister, in a terraced English garden that looked like something befitting royalty. Sadie sat through it, holding Trevor’s hand and feeling a sense of euphoria that he would want her here with him.

  She didn’t know anyone here, so her fears that Morgan and Jonathan would find out faded from her mind not long after the wedding began. Only one face in the crowd looked slightly familiar, and she couldn’t quite place it.

  The small woman had come in alone, and an usher had seated her near some of the family, whom she greeted as if they were close friends.

  Where had Sadie seen her before?

  She watched the woman as the ceremony began, racking her brain for a name. When it did not come to her, she leaned over to Trevor.

  “Who’s that woman over there?” she asked.

  Trevor shrugged. “Don’t know. I think she’s a friend of my father’s, but I don’t know her name.”

  Sadie tried to forget about her, but her mind couldn’t seem to let it go. She thought of finding her at the reception and asking her who she was, but then she feared that she might be a friend of Morgan’s. She couldn’t risk letting word get back to them.

  The reception was set up on the other side of the house, in another garden area. Before sitting down, Trevor took her around to introduce her to some of his family.

  She felt like an honored guest, someone of worth, as they hugged her and welcomed her here. This wasn’t a crime family, she thought. They were decent, loving people. Morgan and Jonathan were wrong about them.

  She felt giddy as she took her place at their table. But he didn’t sit down. His eyes were on a man a few yards away, hobbling toward him on crutches. Trevor seemed to change as he approached. A hard look came over his face. “Smart of you to come,” he told the man.

  The man’s hand trembled as he reached out to shake. Trevor took it coldly, staring into his eyes.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it,” the man said. “And I brought the check. Your father has it.”

  “So you’re not as stupid as I thought,” Trevor said.

  Had she heard right? Had Trevor really said that? She looked up at his hard face, then at the man’s. He was clearly intimidated.

  “I won’t be late again.” The man’s voice trembled.

  “Smart man.”

  The man crutched away, and as Trevor sat down, a chill fell over her. Had Trevor had anything to do with that man’s injury?

  She looked over at him, afraid to ask. “How did he get hurt?”

  “He got in a fight,” Trevor said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “He wasn’t . . . late for a loan, was he?”

  He picked up his glass and brought it to his lips. He said nothing, but the look in his eyes silenced her.

  The music started, and she looked down at her plate. A man with a broken leg, obviously afraid of Trevor. . . .

  Maybe Morgan was right, after all.

  She watched the bride and groom dance the first dance, but her mind raced with images. Trevor cornering the man, beating him until his bones broke. Would he have used his fists or some kind of weapon?

  She started to get dizzy, and beads of sweat broke out on her temples.

  Trevor noticed. “Are you okay?”

  “Uh, yes.” She slid her chair back on the grass. “I just need . . . where is the rest room?”

  He pointed to the house. “Sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes. I’ll be right back.” She took her handbag and started up to the house, but she saw some of the servants inside, and she didn’t want to talk to them.

  Instead, she walked back to the other garden, where the ceremony had been held. The chairs were still set up, the flowers still beautifully placed.

  She saw a path that led from the rose-covered arbor deeper into the garden, so she headed for it, trying to breathe deeply and calm down.

  So a man had a broken leg. She was overreacting. She had no evidence that Trevor had anything to do with it—only her suspicions. Then again, he knew what she was thinking, and he hadn’t denied it.

  She smelled the scent of jasmine as she followed the path, her mind racing. There was nothing wrong with this family. They were nice, decent people, and Trevor was good.

  But he had admitted to her that intimidation was sometimes required to make people pay their loans.

  She imagined him swinging a bat at the hunkering man, teaching him a lesson about paying his debts.

  She
felt sick. She couldn’t go back yet. She needed a moment to breathe . . . to think . . .

  She turned on the path and stopped suddenly.

  A man and a woman stood kissing in a grove of trees. Their lips broke off, and she saw the woman she had recognized earlier. “Ann, we’ve got to stop this,” the man whispered. “Someone could see us.”

  Sadie caught her breath. Ann?

  Then suddenly, it all came back to her. The DMV photo Blair had of Ann Clark. She had seen it when Blair showed it to Jonathan.

  But who was the man?

  She backed away, but her foot broke a twig, and the pair turned and saw her.

  “Uh . . . excuse me. I was just getting some air . . .”

  She saw the man’s face. It looked familiar too, but for the life of her, she couldn’t place it.

  She turned and started away and made her way back to the reception. Trevor looked up at her as she reached the table.

  She could hardly breathe, and her hands shook as she groped for her chair.

  “You look like you just saw a ghost,” Trevor said. “Are you okay?”

  “No. I’m sick, Trevor. I need to go home.”

  “Sick? Just like that?”

  “Just like that. You stay. I’ve got Morgan’s car. But I have to get home.”

  He walked her to her car in silence, as if he didn’t believe her story, but she couldn’t worry about that now.

  As she drove home, her mind raced through the night’s images. What was Ann Clark doing with another man, so soon after her husband’s death?

  Did it mean something, or was it all just coincidence?

  And how could she not tell Morgan? It could be important information. But if she told her, she’d have to reveal the fact that she had disobeyed and deceived them again. She’d have to come clean.

  If she didn’t tell them, they would go on thinking she was repentant and trustworthy. But Cade’s life, and Emory’s, might depend on her telling them. It might matter to the investigation if, indeed, Ann was involved in Cade’s disappearance.