Southern Storm

by Terri Blackstock

  By the time she reached Hanover House, she was in tears. But she had made up her mind.

  Morgan and Blair were inside at the kitchen table when she went in. Morgan looked up at her. “Sadie, you’re home early. How was the wedding?”

  “I lied to you.” The confession came quickly, leaving no room for backing down. “The wedding was Trevor Beal’s cousin’s. I was his date.”

  Morgan looked as if she’d been slapped. Slowly, she came to her feet. “Sadie—”

  “You can do what you want to me later,” Sadie said as tears began to roll down her cheeks. “Throw me out, whatever. I deserve it. But the reason I’m telling you is that Ann Clark was there.”

  Blair sprang up. “Ann Clark?”

  “Yes. I didn’t recognize her at first. But then I stumbled on her in the garden, kissing a man. And it came to me who she was.”

  Blair came toward her. “Who was the man, Sadie? Did you know him?”

  “No, I don’t know him, but I’ve seen him somewhere before. I don’t know where. I’ve tried to remember.”

  Morgan still looked shell-shocked. “Could you ask Trevor or someone who was there?”

  “No, because no one else saw them together. They were hidden. I heard him call her Ann. He said, ‘Ann, we’ve got to stop this. Someone could see us.’”

  Tears rimmed Morgan’s eyes. “Did they see you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But I just acted like it was no big deal. And it was dark. They probably couldn’t see me that well.”

  Blair’s face was tight, and her scars darkened. “Okay, so now we know that Ann Clark has ties to the Beal family and that she’s not exactly grieving over her dearly departed husband. If she’s involved in this kidnapping scheme, then it’s possible that they are too. We have to tell McCormick. We have to tell Tavist.”

  But Morgan was still staring at Sadie with those tear-filled eyes. “Why did you lie to us again, Sadie?”

  Sadie had never hated herself so much. “I don’t know. I liked him so much, but Morgan, I think you were right about him. There was a man there with a broken leg, who’d been late paying a loan. I think Trevor had something to do with his injury. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know better, but I just follow my emotions like some airheaded idiot. I don’t blame you if you want me to leave.”

  “Leave?” Morgan asked. “Sadie, we’re not going to make you leave. You’re not a tenant. You’re family.”

  Sadie wanted to die. “But I betrayed you, not just once, Morgan. I did it over and over.”

  Blair stepped between them. “Can we do this woe-is-me stuff later? We’ve got a crisis here. And for heaven’s sake, Morgan, she did tell us the truth. If she hadn’t, we wouldn’t have known about Ann Clark. She did the right thing, even if it started out wrong.”

  Morgan sighed, and pulled Sadie into a hug. “Blair’s right. Right now we’ve got to decide what to do with this information. We have to tell Agent Tavist and Joe.”

  An hour later, they had informed law enforcement of the information Sadie had brought home, but it seemed to make no difference.

  “Even if Ann Clark was having an affair before her husband died, it doesn’t prove that she has anything to do with her husband’s death, Cade’s disappearance, or the infant kidnappings,” Tavist said.

  Blair wanted to explode. “Are you telling me that her connection to the biggest crime family in the southeast is not important information?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. It may play out later, but right now it gets us no closer to finding either one of them.”

  Law enforcement was going to be of no help at all in this, Blair finally realized. No, she would have to do this herself.

  As Morgan walked her out to her car, Blair turned back to her. “I’m going back there tomorrow night. I’m going to get in that house, with or without the casseroles.”

  She’d expected Morgan to balk and throw a fit, but instead, her sister just nodded. “Pick me up at six. I’ll have them ready.”

  CHAPTER 66

  I’m scared.” Morgan muttered the words as she got one of the casseroles out of the backseat. She had pictured them doing this at night, but at almost seven in the evening, darkness had not yet fallen.

  Blair got the other one. “Stop shaking! She’ll get suspicious.”

  Morgan looked up at the house. “Aren’t you scared?”

  “Scared for Cade,” Blair said. “Just think about him.”

  Blair had spent the day choreographing their moves. She’d decided that the parlor just inside the front door didn’t give her the access she might need to the house. If they got into the kitchen, she knew that Morgan could distract the woman while Blair went farther in.

  Morgan followed her to the side door.

  “Ready?” Blair whispered.

  “I guess so,” Morgan said.

  “Remember,” Blair said. “We’re happy southern church ladies. In other words, be yourself.”

  Blair rang and then held her breath as they waited for the woman. She heard footsteps and saw the curtain being pulled back slightly as Ann Clark peered out to see who was there.

  Blair and Morgan smiled like Welcome Wagon ladies.

  Slowly, the woman unbolted the lock and cracked the door open. “Yes?”

  Blair put on her best Georgia voice. “Mrs. Clark, I don’t know if you remember me, but I was here a few days ago when we notified you of your husband’s death. Blair Owens?”

  Ann stiffened. “Uh-huh.”

  “This is my sister, Morgan.” Morgan’s face was white, but she managed to smile.

  “Hello, Mrs. Clark,” Morgan said. “You’ve just been on our minds so much lately, that we wanted to come by and offer you a little comfort in your time of grief.” She raised the dish. “We brought casseroles.”

  “They’re a little hot,” Blair said. “Can we come in and set them down?”

  Ann opened the door farther but blocked the entrance. “I’ll take them.”

  She took Blair’s from her and set it on the counter next to her, then reached for Morgan’s.

  Morgan surrendered it willingly and gave Blair a look that said, What now?

  Blair grabbed the screen and pushed her way in. “Mrs. Clark, I hate to ask this. I hope it doesn’t sound rude, but we were hoping we could transfer the food into some of your dishes, because we need ours back.”

  Ann gaped at her. “The fact is that I’m in the middle of something right now, and I don’t have time for company.”

  “Oh, you go right ahead with what you were doing,” Blair said. “We’ll take care of everything.”

  As they’d rehearsed, Morgan came in behind her and went straight to the cabinets. Opening one, she said, “Where do you keep the casserole dishes, Hon? We’ll need one about the same size, since I don’t want the casserole to look like mush. It’s chicken spaghetti, very good, if I do say so myself. And it freezes well. You might want a dish that you can freeze.”

  Clearly annoyed, Ann opened the right cabinet and pulled out two casserole dishes. “Here.”

  Blair slipped behind her, and headed into the hall. “May I use your rest room?”

  Ann swung around. “I told you, I’m in the middle of something. I’d rather you—”

  Something crashed, and Blair looked back. Morgan had dropped Ann’s casserole dish, and the glass was all over the floor.

  “Oh, Mrs. Clark!” Morgan cried. “I’m so sorry. You must think we’re the rudest things, coming in here like this and breaking your dish. I’ll just clean every bit of this up. . . .”

  Blair seized the opportunity and took off down the hall, looking in each room for some sign of Cade. She saw a closed door and thought it might be the basement. Quickly, she opened it, flicked on the light and started down the stairs.

  She heard Ann shouting at her from the kitchen, and Morgan fussing over the broken glass . . .

  She looked around, saw the small basement area. Th
ere were no doors down here, only pipes and a furnace, and a set of bookshelves against one wall.

  The concrete floor in front of one set of the shelves looked scraped, as if the shelves had been repeatedly pulled away.

  She wondered what was behind them.

  “Miss Owens, the bathroom is not down here!”

  Ann Clark stood halfway down the stairs, her eyes aflame, as if she knew what was happening. “I don’t want your casseroles. Get out of my house now before I call the police!”

  Blair started back up the stairs. “I was just looking for the bathroom.”

  “You don’t know a bathroom from a basement?” Ann said. “Get out of my house.”

  Blair thought of running for the bookshelves, knocking them over, seeing if there was a door behind them. She tried to think it through.

  Then Morgan appeared at the top of the stairs. “Blair, you heard her. We have to go. Now!”

  “All right, I’m sorry.” Blair started back up the stairs. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’ve just had a kidney infection, and when I have to go, I have to go, if you know what I mean. I was kind of in a hurry.”

  She passed Ann on the stairs, felt the murderous hatred in her eyes. She hurried to the kitchen.

  Morgan went back to the pile of glass on the floor. “Mrs. Clark, do you have a broom and dustpan anywhere?”

  “I’ll clean it up,” Ann bit out. “I want you both out of my house.”

  Morgan opened the door. “Look, just keep our dishes. I’m so sorry to be so rude.”

  Blair hung back, but Morgan grabbed her hand and pulled her out. Ann slammed the door behind them.

  Blair swung around. “Morgan, I was there!” she whispered. “Why couldn’t you distract her a little longer?”

  “She was going to stop you, Blair! I feared for your life! Besides, I had what we needed.”

  As she spoke, Morgan got into the car. Blair jumped in next to her. “What do you mean, ‘what we need’?”

  Morgan pulled a ball of gauze out of her pocket. “This. I found it in the trash when I was throwing away some of the glass.”

  Blair caught her breath and took it from her. A bloody bandage.

  “It’s Cade’s blood, Morgan.” Blair hadn’t expected the tears that pushed to her eyes. “He may be dead.”

  “They don’t bandage dead people,” Morgan said. “But I’m afraid she’ll know I took it.”

  Blair tried to think as she pulled out of the driveway. “She might do something drastic, like moving him. I can’t take that chance. We have to watch her and follow her if she leaves. And somehow I have to get back in that house. I think there might be a door in the basement behind the bookshelves. I have to move them and see—”

  “No!” Morgan shouted. “Blair, you can’t go off half-cocked and start breaking into people’s houses, especially if they’re criminals. We’re taking this to the FBI. Maybe if they can confirm that it’s his blood, they’ll realize that they’ve been wrong.”

  “They won’t!” Blair said. “They think he’s the criminal! If he’s not dead already, she could kill him before those Keystone Cops get stirred up enough to do anything about it.”

  “Blair, so help me, you are not doing this yourself. We’ll head for the nearest police precinct for safety and notify Tavist from there.”

  “Tavist,” Blair said bitterly. “You don’t seriously think he’ll do anything!”

  “Blair, so help me, you drive to the police station now or I’ll turn you in. I’ll tell them what you’re planning. At least if they arrest you you’ll be safer in jail than breaking into Ann Clark’s house.”

  Blair hit the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. “Morgan, it’ll be a waste of time. We don’t have time to waste!”

  “Do it!” Morgan yelled. “Blair, I mean what I say. Drive to the police station right now!”

  “All right,” Blair shouted. “But Cade’s life is in your hands. You’d better be right about this.”

  CHAPTER 67

  The police station was just as it had been the night of Blair’s arrest. She found Officer Gray—who had arrested her—sitting behind his desk, eating pizza from a greasy box.

  She made a beeline toward him, and Morgan followed.

  “I need to use your phone to call Agent Tavist with the FBI,” she said when she reached his desk.

  He looked up at her. “What?”

  “It’s me. Blair Owens, the one you arrested the other night. I was in Ann Clark’s house tonight, and we found a bloody bandage. I have reason to believe that it’s Chief Matthew Cade’s blood. I need to notify the FBI.”

  He set his pizza slice back in the box and closed it. “Are you confessing to breaking and entering?”

  “No!” Blair shouted. “Ann was there. She let us in. Please, I need to use the phone.”

  He shoved his phone across his desk, and as Blair dialed Hanover House, he got up and headed to the back.

  She got Tavist on the phone, told him what had happened. He seemed more worried about what he called her “interference in the investigation” than he did with the bandage. He told her to wait there, while he consulted with his superiors.

  Blair hung up and looked at her sister. “I hope you’re happy. They’re probably not going to do anything. She’s probably doing something drastic as we speak!”

  “Calm down, Blair. They’re not going to ignore this.”

  Officer Gray came back, followed by a man dressed in a tweed sport coat with a dark T-shirt under it. He crossed the room and shook their hands.

  “Ladies, I’m Detective Hull.”

  Morgan nodded. “I met you at the hospital when the baby was kidnapped.”

  He stared at her for a moment, as recognition dawned. “Yes, now I remember. You’re Miss Miller’s friend.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I just got a call from Agent Tavist, ladies. He wants me to take a statement from you and take a look at that bandage.”

  Finally, they were getting somewhere. Blair withdrew the bandage from her pocket, and handed it to him.

  She would have expected him to handle it with gloves or something, but he took it in two fingers. “Come back to my office,” he said. “You can wait for Tavist there and fill me in on how you got this.”

  Blair and Morgan followed him quickly, assessing the man from the top of his tousled, too-long hair, to the deck shoes he wore without socks. When they got to his office, he went in, dropped into his chair, and lit up a cigarette. “Have a seat,” he said.

  Blair sat down, and Morgan hesitated, then picked up a wadded coffee cup that lay in her chair. She set it gently on his desk.

  “Sorry about that.”

  Morgan sat down.

  He frowned down at the bandage and leaned forward, blew out a stream of smoke.

  “Don’t you want to bag that or something?” Blair asked. “Seems like your smoke could compromise the evidence.”

  Cigarette hanging from his mouth, he pulled an evidence bag out of his desk and dropped the bandage in. “So why were you in the Clark house again?”

  “We took her some casseroles,” Blair said. “She invited us in. My sister broke a dish and was cleaning it up, and that was in the trash can. It’s Cade’s blood, Detective Hull. I know it is. All you need is to prove it’s his, and you’ll have probable cause to do a thorough search of her house.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. We can’t test it without his own blood samples.”

  “Look, I’m not stupid,” Blair bit out. “I know how DNA works. You could go to his house and get a hair off of his comb. Besides that, he’s probably had blood tests, drug tests, and all sorts of stuff for the police department. There must be medical records. You have to start somewhere.”

  Hull looked down at the bandage soaked with blood. “Of course we’ll do those things.”

  His noncommital attitude sent her over the edge. “What is wrong with you people?”

  Morgan sighed. “Blair, calm down.”

&nbs
p; “It’s like you’re afraid you’re going to solve a crime or something. I don’t get it. I thought police officers were supposed to be real sensitive when it came to violence against their own, but you don’t even care.”

  “I do care,” he said, “but I was with Detective McCormick the day he questioned her. There’s no one being hidden in that house!”

  Blair slammed her hand on his desk. “Are you going to do anything or not? Because if you’re not, I’ll do it myself.”

  Hull leaned forward, pinning her with his eyes. “And what exactly are you going to do?”

  Blair evaded the question. “I know where she’s holding Cade. There are bookshelves in that basement, and they look like they’ve been moved back and forth to hide something behind them.”

  He took the cigarette out of his mouth and squinted at her through the smoke. “I went in that basement myself. Your chief is not there.”

  “Are you blind?” Blair yelled. “Did you see the arching scrape marks on the concrete?”

  Morgan touched Blair’s arm to calm her, but Blair jerked it away.

  Hull got up. “Look, I have to check on something. Stay here for a minute. I’ll be right back.” He took the bandage and headed back into the squad room.

  Blair wanted to erupt. “Morgan, we tried it your way. These people are idiots! They’re not going to do anything!”

  Morgan sighed. “Blair, you have a way of rubbing people the wrong way, putting them instantly on the defensive. Haven’t you ever heard that you attract more flies with honey?”

  “I don’t have any honey,” Blair bit out, “and I don’t have time to attract flies. Cade could be dying.”

  “Just calm down. We’ve done what we’re supposed to do, and I know that the bandage is going to be enough to get them to act.”

  “Well, you have more faith in them than I do.” Blair got up and looked out into the squad room. Hull was on the phone.

  She had to get out of here, she thought. She had to get back there and move those bookshelves. She never should have listened to Morgan. She should have taken her gun with her and forced Ann to lead her to him.

  Well, she didn’t have her gun, but she could get back in that house somehow and go down into that basement. . . .