River's Edge

by Terri Blackstock

  “And then there’s Lisa.” Morgan hadn’t expected the words to come out of her mouth. “She’d had two procedures and none of them worked.”

  “I had every hope that the third one would. We were so close. We had gotten her FSH levels low enough and were ready to harvest the egg. And then this.”

  Morgan fought the urge to ask him if Lisa had found him that morning, if she’d confronted him about her misshapen uterus and the false hope he’d given her, and all the money he had taken from her. She bit her lip until it almost drew blood.

  He went on about what she could expect from the drugs he would give her and when he estimated the procedure could actually take place. Morgan sat like a statue, her hands folded in her lap. As he went on, she prayed that Cade would get enough from this conversation to lock the man up for life.

  Jonathan interrogated him like a pro, probing him with pointed questions, making the man talk long enough to hang himself. “Do you use a lab, Doctor, or do you do everything yourself?”

  “We do it here, in the office. Most doctors do have outside labs, but I’ve hired some of the best technicians in the area, and we do all our own work. I’m very hands-on. I see the results immediately, and I oversee all of it. I do a lot of the actual lab work myself. Morgan, you’ve come to the best possible place to make your dreams come true. Do you believe that?”

  She hesitated for a moment. “I want to,” she whispered.

  “Good. You’re going to have to trust me. But I won’t let you down.”

  CHAPTER 60

  Riley Holmes, Chatham County’s DA, was new to his office, and while he was tough in the courtroom, he was more cautious than most of the cops in his jurisdiction would have liked.

  “I do think you’re onto something here, Cade,” he said, looking down at the report Cade and McCormick had brought him. “But I don’t think we’ll have probable cause to arrest Sims for medical fraud until we get confirmation that he lied to not one, but many patients. Any lawyer could make a case for a doctor making a mistake. Interview some of his patients, get them to go for second opinions, subpoena his records, his lab reports—”

  “We’ll do that,” Cade said. “But before we give him a heads-up on the fraud thing, I want to question him about whether Lisa found him that morning or not, and I want to get his alibi.”

  Holmes nodded. “Yes. We don’t have enough on the fraud case, and we have even less on the murder. I need something concrete, guys. I can’t even get a grand jury indictment with any of what you’ve brought me. You’re close, and I know you’re headed in the right direction—but you still have a lot of work to do.”

  Cade had known that would be the answer. He looked at McCormick, whose expression was irritated but not surprised.

  “Meanwhile,” McCormick said, “he’s going to keep seeing patients.”

  “All the more incentive for you to get your work done quickly.”

  Cade almost laughed as they left the office—as if they hadn’t been working night and day with every resource they had already.

  “The man’s got a point,” Cade said as they strode back to their car. “We don’t want to make an arrest only to have some slick lawyer get it thrown out of court.”

  McCormick only grunted as they got into the car.

  CHAPTER 61

  The Saturday debate for the mayoral race brought out hundreds of Cape Refuge citizens. Morgan supposed that was a good thing for Jonathan since he hadn’t had the advertising budget that Sam Sullivan had. Hopefully, some minds would be swayed today.

  It was a nice day. The temperature was low, hovering around seventy-five to eighty degrees, rather than the usual ninety-five. Even though the weather forecast had predicted rain, there wasn’t a cloud in sight.

  Annabelle Cotton’s Dance Club was on the stage, the ladies decked out in their frilly square-dancing skirts and their Mary Jane shoes, and their partners wearing short-sleeved white shirts with sweat rings under the arms. They danced with gusto to Otis Peabody’s calls. Some of the audience danced along, missing the calls and laughing with glee.

  Jonathan was too busy mingling to dance, so Morgan just stood near their campaign tent and clapped to the music, trying to keep her mind off the events of the last few days and on the task at hand. As she did, she kept her eyes on Sheila and Caleb. Sheila had taken the toddler down to the water and held his hand as he romped in the waves licking at his feet. They were, indeed, bonding. Morgan had to give Sheila credit for being attentive to the baby. She hoped Sheila didn’t take her eyes off him today. So much could go wrong in a crowd at the beach.

  She looked for Sadie through the crowd and saw her with her camera hanging from her neck. Blair was paying her to photograph the event for the paper. She seemed deep in conversation with Matt, the guy who helped out at the florist shop while he attended college in Savannah. He was a nice kid, a Christian, and Morgan hoped that something might come of it. Sadie needed a young man to find her attractive, one who wasn’t controlled by his hormones, but she hoped the girl wouldn’t get too busy with him or her pictures to forget about Caleb and her mother. Morgan wanted her to jump in if Sheila turned away for a second.

  Ben Jackson’s absence was conspicuous. The stage looked different than it had two weeks ago for the original debate. Instead of three microphones and three chairs, there were only two. Instead of an organized debate moderated by an objective party, it looked as if Sarah Williford was going to moderate, which meant it would probably turn into more of a back-and-forth between the two candidates themselves. Morgan hoped Jonathan was prepared, but with all the other distractions, she feared he wasn’t.

  “It’s all set up, Morgan.”

  She turned and saw that Gus had set up the table under Jonathan’s tent and was unpacking stacks of campaign flyers and cards. Karen sat in one of the folding chairs behind the table, holding Emory.

  “Thank you, Gus.”

  “I’m going to get my bride-to-be something to drink. You want something, too?”

  Morgan smiled and winked at Karen. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

  She turned back to the square dancing, wishing she felt more festive. She needed to be mingling, talking up Jonathan’s ideas, and sticking close to his side. But she couldn’t seem to drag herself out of her depression.

  Blair stepped into the shade of the tent. “So where’s Cade?”

  Morgan looked around at the people. “I haven’t seen him.”

  “Guess he decided not to come since he’s one of the issues they’ll be debating.” Blair’s disappointment was clear. “He should have shown up to defend himself, though.”

  “Don’t worry, Jonathan will defend him. He probably did the right thing, staying away. Besides, he’s really busy, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. The DA’s got him jumping through hoops.” Blair paused and gave Morgan a long look. “Are you okay, Sis?”

  “Yeah. Just a lot on my mind.” Her eyes strayed back to the water. Caleb had plopped down in the wet, packed sand, and Sheila was helping him make a little mountain. Morgan hoped he didn’t try to eat any of it.

  “Stop watching them. He’ll be all right.”

  Morgan forced her eyes away. “I know he will.”

  Blair stroked her back as if wishing she could offer something to lift Morgan’s spirits. She needed to look happier, Morgan thought. The candidate’s wife shouldn’t look so melancholy.

  The music ended and the square dancers curtsied and bowed. The crowd whistled and applauded.

  Then Councilwoman Sarah Williford—decked out in a hot-pink sundress and a big straw hat—took the stage, clapping as the dancers exited. “Thank you, dancers. Annabelle, you work wonders with this group. I went to the high school prom with ol’ Jake Pryne, and doggone if my toes weren’t black and blue. You’ve turned him into a Fred Astaire.”

  The man laughed and gave another mock bow.

  “Welcome to the Cape Refuge mayoral debate,” she said over the PA system. “Will the candidates p
lease come to the stage?”

  She saw Jonathan shaking hands with the people he’d been talking to, and quickly he ran up to the stage. Sam Sullivan took his place as well. Sam had worn a big Hawaiian shirt and a gold chain around his neck. He had an even tan and little round white circles over his eyelids. It was a tanning bed tan, Morgan thought, carefully planned for the purpose of looking like one of the islanders. But Morgan knew he rarely spent time outdoors. He was a white-collar, at-his-desk kind of businessman.

  Jonathan’s tan was real, from all the hours he spent out at sea on his fishing tours. He wore a white short-sleeved dress shirt, which probably had been a mistake since sweat rings were already visible under his arms. She hoped he looked more like a citizen who wanted to serve than a politician who wanted to take over.

  “In case you guys are hungry,” Sarah said into the microphone, “we have hot dogs over here to the right, only a dollar apiece, courtesy of Mac’s Hot Dog Stand, and the Colonel from Cricket’s has graciously offered to sell us drinks over here to the left. And Nemo from the concession stand down the beach has offered us cotton candy and popcorn.”

  “Give me a break,” Blair said under her breath. “This is a forty-five-minute debate, for heaven’s sake. What, are we gonna starve to death?”

  “It’s a town event, Blair,” Morgan said. “Food makes it more festive.”

  Morgan glanced over at Sheila again. Caleb was on his feet, sand sticking to the back of his diaper. He walked toward the water, and Sheila did nothing to stop him.

  Morgan caught her breath and started toward them, but suddenly Sheila got up and grabbed him before he could get slapped by a wave. His mother was doing fine—so why didn’t that make her happier than it did?

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen,” Sarah Williford said. “I hope you all realize the importance of this debate. Since we’re without a mayor right now—due to his run-ins with the law—the newly elected mayor will be sworn in just a few days after the election and will begin serving immediately. The direction of our town hangs on your decision.”

  “Would you get on with it, Sarah?” somebody yelled from the audience. “It’s getting hot out here.”

  Sarah lifted her chin and kept talking. “As moderator of this debate, I’m going to start off by asking the candidates to comment on several issues. The first issue concerns the police department. We’ve heard Sam Sullivan saying that he would like to revamp it, that he’s not satisfied with how it’s running. Jonathan Cleary seems to be happy with the status quo. Sam, would you go first and please comment on your stand on this issue?”

  Sam moved his heavy frame up to the microphone. “As most of you know, I’m for getting Chief Matthew Cade out of our police force and bringing in some new blood with more experience. Cade was fine when all he had to take care of was an occasional car theft and disturbing the peace violations, but in the last year we’ve had five murders here, including Lisa’s—God rest her soul—and as far as I can see, they’re not letting up.”

  “Oh, brother,” Blair bit out. “Somebody needs to throw a tomato at that guy.”

  Morgan touched her arm to calm her. “Don’t say anything, Blair. Let Jonathan refute that.”

  The scars on Blair’s face burned crimson.

  Sam raised his hand dramatically. “And to make matters worse, he’s running this city into some serious debt by hiring outside people to help with this investigation, even though he’s already arrested the killer, my former opponent. Every day that goes by is costing this city thousands and thousands of dollars. I say it’s time we got somebody who knows what they’re doing in here and get the police department back on track, where it can protect our citizens and our money.”

  Sullivan stepped back from the microphone. Jonathan came forward, and slid his hands into his pockets. Morgan knew that he was nervous.

  “As most of you know, I have great faith in our police department. Three of those murders that Sam just referred to were very personal to me. As most of you know, my mother- and father-in-law were the first two victims, and one of our residents at Hanover House was the third. Chief Cade and his police force worked as professionally and as quickly as any police force I’ve ever seen to bring those cases to a resolution, just as he’s done on the other two cases.”

  “Way to go, Jonathan,” Blair muttered.

  “As for the money he’s spending, if I’m elected mayor, this town will get behind our police force and stop balking about giving them the resources they need to fight crime. The department is still housed in a laundromat, for Pete’s sake, and their cars are all over ten years old. There is all sorts of technology available to them, but their computers are outdated. We need to hire more officers and send them to schools where they can get more training and certifications. I say we need to keep Cade in office and support him wholeheartedly.”

  “How you gonna pay for all that, Jonathan?” Sam mopped his forehead with a handkerchief and stuffed it back into his pocket. “You plan to raise property taxes?”

  The crowd muttered disapproval, and Morgan saw the tension on Jonathan’s face. “No, I’m not. The town can mark my word. We get enough taxes from our citizens, but under my leadership, the City Council will stop wasting it.”

  Applause and whistles and yells roared up from the crowd, and Morgan found her spirits lifting. Jonathan could hold his own with Sam. The voters were seeing what he was made of.

  Sam Sullivan’s smug smile seemed to say he would shoot down Jonathan’s little victory as soon as he got the microphone back.

  Sarah Williford went on to ask them about parking on the island, about tourism and their approach to it, about real-estate development, and the kinds of businesses they should attract to the island. Sullivan got his licks in regarding the cell phone company he had already wooed to the island, taking absolute credit for the fact that the tower would be completed and Cape Refuge would have cellular service within a matter of days.

  Morgan glanced around to see where Caleb was. She saw that Sadie had him now. She was standing back from the crowd with a concerned look on her face. As Morgan watched Sadie’s eyes scan the crowd, she realized the girl was looking for her mother.

  Morgan looked around, searching the crowd for Sheila’s face. “Blair, do you see Sheila?”

  “No, and frankly, I need Sadie to be taking pictures, not watching her brother.”

  “I’ll get him.” Morgan cut through the people and got to Sadie. “Honey, where’s your mother?”

  Sadie looked close to tears. “I’m not sure. She gave Caleb to me and said she’d be right back. Maybe she went to the bathroom or something.”

  Morgan took Caleb from her arms and kissed him on the cheek. He was getting hot. He needed to be in the shade before he got sunburned. Had Sheila done as she’d reminded her and put sunscreen on the boy?

  “Morgan, I know she didn’t run off. I’m not sure where she went, but she’ll be right back. I know she will.”

  “Why don’t I take Caleb and go stand under our tent? He needs something to drink.”

  “Okay, and I’ll go look for Mom. I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.” Sadie took off her camera and handed it to Morgan. “Will you give this to Blair, in case she needs to get something? Tell her I’ll be back in a minute.”

  CHAPTER 62

  The moment the debate was over, Blair saw Vince Barr, complete with a cameraman, conducting interviews among the people. Since he was a print journalist—and she used that term loosely—he’d have no reason to film unless he planned to sell the video footage to the news channels. He was probably drilling townspeople on their opinions about the murder and why Ben may have done it, whether there were others involved, or whether the police even had the right person. Anything he could find to keep the story going.

  She hoped no one said anything stupid. Heading to her car to change the film in Sadie’s camera, she cut through the line of cars in the parking lot and heard giggling from Carson Graham’s Palm Reading van p
arked under a tree. As she hurried by, she glanced over.

  Sheila sat in the doorway with a bottle of beer and a cigarette in one hand. Carson held her other one and seemed to be studying her palm.

  “So there you are, Sheila!” she called as if she’d been looking for her.

  The woman dropped her cigarette as if it had stung her. She pulled her hand from Carson’s and set the bottle down behind her in the van.

  Blair stepped between the two. “My sister’s been looking all over for you.”

  Sheila didn’t get up. “I told Sadie I’d be right back.”

  Blair reached into the van and pulled out the beer. She held it up to Carson. “So, what are you doing, Carson? Contributing to the delinquency of one of the Hanover House residents?”

  “Hey, I didn’t know she lived at Hanover House.”

  Blair gave a sarcastic grunt. “You didn’t see it in her palm?”

  He smiled. “Let’s just say hers wasn’t as clear as yours was.”

  Sudden shame swept through her.

  “So you had a reading too, huh?” Sheila seemed amused.

  “No, I did not. I went there to interview him.”

  Graham’s smug grin told her he enjoyed her discomfort. “I gave her one on the house.”

  “You did not read my palm,” Blair bit out. “And any prediction you made about my life was unsolicited.”

  Sheila was laughing now. “Don’t be so defensive, Blair. I believe in it, too.”

  Blair felt the fight deflating out of her. “I don’t believe in it! And you’re changing the subject.”

  Sheila got up. “Okay, so I saw his ‘Palm Reading’ sign on his van, and I asked him to give me a reading. He had an ice chest with beer, so I took one. It’s not the end of the world. You don’t have to tell Morgan.”