"The Guesthouse. I think there might have been another murder."
CHAPTER 49
Matt flipped on the vehicle's cherry lights and siren and threw the cruiser into gear. He flew through the streets, handling the vehicle like a professional driver, the only indication of his distress the muscle that jumped in his jaw.
"What the hell's going on, Avery?" He didn't take his eyes from the road. "How do you know Gwen Lancaster?"
"It's a long story." She wrapped her arms around her middle. "Do you know her?"
"Yes, because of her brother. I worked on the investigation." He paused. "I felt real bad for her. She seemed like a nice person."
"And now she's dead, too."
"We don't know that."
"Then where is she?" Her voice rose, hysteria pulling at her. "We were supposed to talk. She didn't call. She wouldn't have left without-"
"Stop it," he said sharply. "We don't know she's dead. Until there's a body, we'll presume she's alive. Okay?"
They arrived at The Guesthouse. He screamed to a stop; they piled out and hurried up the walk. Unlike earlier, Laurie sat at the front desk. She stood as they entered. "Matt, Avery, what-"
"Have you seen Gwen Lancaster today?"
Her gaze moved between them. "No, I-"
"Mind if we go upstairs?" She shook her head. "We may need you to open the door."
It was only the second time Avery had seen Matt acting in an official capacity and she acknowledged being impressed. And a bit taken aback. Gone was the aw-shucks small-town sheriff, replaced by a determined lawman whose tone left no doubt he meant business.
The three hurried up the stairs. Matt rapped on Gwen's door. "Sheriff, Ms. Lancaster." When he repeated the process without answer, he turned to Laurie. "Open it, please."
Laurie nodded, face deathly pale. She took out a master key, unlocked the door and stepped back.
"Wait downstairs for now. But don't leave the premises, I may need to question you." He softened his tone. "Please, Laurie."
The woman hesitated for a fraction of a moment, then backed toward the stairs. Avery watched her, frowning. She looked frightened.
Did she know more than she was telling? Had she played some part in Gwen's disappearance?
Matt unsheathed his service weapon. "Stay put, Avery." He stepped across the threshold, Colt.45 out. "Sheriff!" he called.
He disappeared into the unit, reappearing several moments later, features tight.
"Is she-"
"No."
Avery brought a hand to her chest, relieved. "Thank God. I was so worried."
"I'd like you to look around. You might see something I missed." He paused. "But don't touch anything. Take as few steps as possible."
"I don't understand."
"The fewer people through a crime scene the better."
"But you said she…wasn't dead. You said you didn't find evidence of…"
Her words trailed off. He hadn't said either of those things, she realized.
"Until we find a body, we presume she's alive."
Obviously, he hadn't found a body.
But he had found something else.
She stepped inside. Moved her gaze over the room. "She's cleaned up. The last time I was here, the place had been ransacked."
"Ransacked?" he repeated, scowling at her. "Just how much haven't you told me?"
She met his eyes, feeling like an idiot. "A lot."
His mouth thinned, but he didn't comment. Instead, he motioned to the room. "Anything else?"
She carefully studied the interior. The unmade bed, robe thrown over the foot. Blinds open, Gwen's running shoes on the floor by the bed.
Her gaze stopped at what appeared to be a puddle. "The floor's wet."
"Excuse me?"
"Look."
She pointed. He crossed to the spot, squatted, dipped his middle and index fingers into the liquid and brought his fingers to his nose. "Water."
He shifted his gaze toward the bathroom. "There's another."
In all they found three in what appeared to be a line from the bathroom to the bed.
"What do you think it means?" she asked.
"Don't know yet." He touched her arm. "I need you to take a look at this."
He led her to the bathroom. A circular-shaped bloodstain marred the white wooden door. Splatters radiated from the circle, drips from the bottom of the stain.
Avery stared at the mark, pinpoints of lights dancing in front of her gaze.
"Blood's dry." He leaned close, examining the mark but not touching it. "A few strands of hair," he murmured. "Maybe some tissue."
"I don't feel so good," she said, swaying slightly.
He caught her arm, steadying her. "Are you okay?"
"No."
He led her out of the unit and into the hall. He ordered her to sit.
She did, lowering her head to her knees. She breathed deeply through her nose until she felt steady enough to lift her head.
"My note's gone," she said.
"You left a note?"
"Slid it under her door. Around noon." She realized what that meant and brought a hand to her chest, relieved. "If she picked it up, she's alive."
"If she picked it up. Someone else may have."
"But who? The door was locked." She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge he had a point. "No, she got it."
"Avery-" He squatted in front of her, caught her hands, gripping them tightly. "The blood's completely dry. It's been there a while."
"I don't understand what you're…" Her words trailed off as she got it.
"I'm sorry, Avery. I really am."
She brought her head to her knees once more.
"She could have fallen," he said softly. "Have you checked the hospitals?"
She looked up, hopeful. "No."
"I'll do it. I need to make a few calls, including one to Dad. Order an evidence crew over. Talk to Laurie, her family. The other guests. But first, I think we should talk."
"Talk," she repeated weakly. "Now?"
"It's important." He rubbed her hands between his. "I need you to tell me everything. Are you up to it?"
She managed a nod. "I'll try."
"That's my girl. First, how did you become involved with Gwen Lancaster?"
As quickly and as succinctly as she could, Avery filled him in on how she and Gwen had become acquainted. She explained about Gwen coming to her with proof of The Seven's existence. The suicides, the freak accidental deaths. "I didn't believe her until I researched at the Gazette. When I saw all the deaths…there…in black and white, I couldn't ignore her. Plus, she believed my father was murdered."
"And that's what you believed?"
She laced her fingers. "I just couldn't accept he had killed himself."
"Go on."
"So we joined forces."
He paused a moment as if mulling over what she had told him, putting the various pieces together, filling in the blanks. "Why did you believe she had been murdered?"
"Because we had arranged to speak by phone and I wasn't able to reach her. And because The Seven knew she was onto them. They had given her a warning."
He frowned. "What kind of warning?"
"A gutted cat. They ransacked her room. Stole her notes and interview tapes." When he simply stared at her, she stiffened her spine. "You think I'm making all this up, don't you? You think I'm losing my mind."
"I wish I did. As unbelievable as this all is, I can't discount it." He pointed. "That bloodstain is stopping me. The fact that she's missing. And that two other women are dead."
He paused. "The note you left, what did it say, Avery?"
"To call me. That I had found some evidence." It seemed a lifetime already since this morning, so much had happened. "Sallie Waguespack was pregnant, Matt."
He looked startled. "Are you certain?"
"It was in my mother's journals. She had…boxes of-" Her voice broke.
All gone. Her parents. Her childhood home. Eve
ry memento of growing up, ash now.
"He burned my house down. Because of the journals. He found out somehow. He killed Gwen. And the others. I found evidence. Trophies."
Matt leaned toward her. "Who, Avery? Who did it?"
"Hunter," she said, words sticking in her throat. "I think Hunter did it."
CHAPTER 50
After the sheriff's department criminalists arrived at the scene, Matt drove her out to his parents' house. As they drove across town, she detailed everything that had happened in the past few days-about her and Gwen going to Trudy Pruitt's trailer and finding Hunter's message on the woman's voice mail; discovering Gwen's name and room number scrawled on a paper by his computer; realizing that all the deaths had begun after Hunter's return to Cypress Springs; and then finding the Ziploc bag of personal items that had obviously belonged to the victims.
"It's my fault," she said as he drew the vehicle to a stop in the driveway. "I told him about Gwen. About what we discovered. That she had interviewed Trudy Pruitt." Her voice thickened. "I trusted him, Matt."
He turned and drew her into his arms. Held her tightly. When he released her, she saw that his eyes were bright with unshed tears.
She realized how hard this must be for him. Hunter was his brother. His twin.
His other half.
She brought a hand to his cheek. "Matt, I don't know what to say. I wish-"
"Shh." He brought her hand to his mouth. "We'll have time for this later. I have to go. Are you going to be all right?"
She forced lightness into her tone. "With Lilah and Cherry cooing and clucking over me, are you kidding?"
He glanced toward the doorway where his mother and sister waited. "I'll come by later. Okay?"
She said it was and climbed out of the cruiser. She watched him back out of the driveway, then turned and started toward the two women.
Lilah hugged her. "Avery, honey, I don't know what to say. I'm devastated."
Cherry touched her arm. "Don't worry about a thing, Avery. If I don't have something you need, I'll go out and buy it."
"Buddy called. He said it was arson." Lilah shuddered. "Who would do such a thing?"
Avery didn't want to talk about it. Truth was, she had neither the energy nor heart for it.
There would be time for talking, hashing and rehashing. Time to break it to Lilah what her son had become. She prayed she wasn't around when that happened.
"Would you mind terribly if we didn't talk about it right now? I'm just…overwhelmed."
"Poor baby. Of course I don't mind." The woman's cheeks turned rosy. "Maybe you should lie down, take a little nap. I know everything is clearer when I'm rested."
"Thank you, Lilah. You're so good to me."
The woman looked at her daughter. "Why don't you take Avery up to the guest room. I'll get some towels and soap for the guest bath."
"Sure." She smiled sympathetically at Avery. "I'll grab you a change of clothes, in case you want to clean up."
"Thanks," Avery said, realizing then that she smelled of smoke.
They started upstairs. Halfway up, Lilah stopped them. Avery glanced back. "I'm fixing baked macaroni and cheese for supper. With blueberry pie for dessert. We'll eat about six."
Avery managed a small smile, though thoughts of eating couldn't be farther from her mind.
Cherry left her at the guest room, then returned moments later with clothes and a basket of toiletries, including a new toothbrush. Cherry held the items out. "If you need anything else, just ask."
Avery saw real concern in her eyes. She experienced a twinge of guilt for her former suspicions about the other woman. "Thank you, Cherry, I…really appreciate this."
"It's the least I-" She took a step backward. "Bathroom's all yours."
"Thanks." Avery hugged the items to her chest. "I think I…a shower will be nice."
"Are you going to be all right?"
"I'll manage. Thanks for worrying about me. It means a lot."
Avery watched Cherry hurry down the hall, then retreated to the silence of her room. As that silence surrounded her, the smell of the fire filled her head.
With it came the image of her family's home being engulfed in flames. And a feeling of despair. Of betrayal.
Hunter, how could you?
Turning, she carried the toiletries and clothes to the guest bath, which was accessible from the bedroom. A Jack and Jill-style bath, consisting of one bath and commode area, flanked on either side by individual sink and dressing areas. She locked the door that led to the other bedroom's dressing area.
A half hour later she stepped out dressed in the pair of lightweight, drawstring cotton pants and white T-shirt Cherry had lent her, the smell of the fire scrubbed from her hair and skin. She towel-dried and combed her hair, then crossed to the bed. Sank onto a corner.
She closed her eyes. Her head filled with images-of fire engulfing her home, of Gwen's name and room number scrawled on a paper by Hunter's manuscript, of blood smeared across the wall of Trudy Pruitt's trailer.
Her cell phone rang.
She jumped, startled, then scrambled across the bed for her purse. She grabbed it, dug inside for the device. She answered before it rang a third time. "Gwen, is that-"
"Ms. Chauvin?"
Her heart sank. "Yes?"
"Dr. Harris. I apologize for it having taken so long for me to get back to you, I had some trouble locating the information you needed."
Avery frowned, confused. Dr. Harris? Why was he-
Then she remembered-the autopsy report. Her call to the coroner that morning seemed a light-year ago.
"Ms. Chauvin, are you there?"
"Yes, sorry. It's been a rough day."
"And I'm afraid my news won't make it any better. There was no autopsy performed on Sallie Waguespack."
"No autopsy," she repeated. "Aren't autopsies always performed in the case of a murder?"
"Yes, I'm surprised as well. That said, however, because of the circumstances, the coroner determined an autopsy unnecessary."
"The coroner has that option?"
"Certainly." He paused a moment. "With a typical homicide, the lawyers will require one. The police or victim's family."
"But the Waguespack murder wasn't a typical homicide."
"Far from it. The perpetrators were dead, there would be no trial. No lawyers requiring proof of cause of death. The police had plenty of evidence to support their conclusion, including the murder weapon."
"An open and closed case," she murmured. Perfect for a setup. Everything tied up nice and neat.
"Would you have made that call, Dr. Harris?"
"Me? No. But that's my way. When it comes to the cessation of life, I don't take anything for granted." He paused, cleared his throat. "I have one more piece of information that's going to surprise you, Ms. Chauvin. Dr. Badeaux wasn't the coroner on this homicide."
She straightened. "He wasn't. Then who-"
"Your father was, Avery. Dr. Phillip Chauvin."
CHAPTER 51
Avery sat stone still, heart and thoughts racing, cell phone still clutched in her hands. Dr. Harris had explained. Dr. Badeaux had employed two deputy coroners, all West Feliciana Parish physicians, all appointed by him. The coroner or one of his deputies went to the scene of every death, be it from natural causes, the result of accident, suicide or homicide.
The night of the Waguespack murder, Dr. Badeaux had been winging his way to Paris for a second honeymoon. Her dad had been the closest deputy coroner. When Dr. Badeaux had returned, Sallie Waguespack had been in the ground. He had accepted his deputy's call and it had stood for fifteen years.
"My boys didn 't kill that Sallie Waguespack. They was framed."
"Your father got what he deserved."
Trudy Pruitt had been telling the truth. Her sons had been framed. And her father had been a part of it.
Betrayal tasted bitter against her tongue. She leaped to her feet, began to pace. She couldn't believe her father would do this
. She'd thought him the most honorable man she had ever known. The most moral, upright.
The box of clippings, she realized. That was why he had saved them all these years. As a painful reminder.
What he'd done would have eaten at him. She hadn't a doubt about that. All these years…had he feared exposure? Or had he longed for it?
That was it, she thought. The why. He hadn't been able to live with his guilt any longer. But he hadn't killed himself. He had decided to come clean. Clear the Pruitt boys' names. And he had been murdered for it. But why had he done it? For whom had he lied? His best friend. Sheriff Buddy Stevens.
Avery squeezed her eyes shut. Buddy had lied to her. The day she'd gone to see him, about having found the clippings. She had asked him why her father would have followed this murder so closely, why he would have kept the box of news stories all these years. She had asked if her dad had been involved with the investigation in any way.
Buddy had claimed he hadn't had a clue why her father would have clipped those stories, that her father hadn't been in any way involved in the investigation.
He'd been up to his eyeballs in this. They both had been. She recalled the words in her mother's journal. That after the murder everything had been different. That her father and Buddy's relationship had been strained. Hunter had claimed that their fathers never even spoke anymore.
What could cause such a serious rift between lifelong friends?
The answer was clear. For a friend, her dad had gone against his principles. Afterward, he had hated both himself and his friend for it.
That poor woman. And pregnant, too. Pregnant. With whose baby? Avery didn't like what she was thinking. She glanced toward the doorway. Lilah was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She would know. Like her mother, she had lived through it. Had watched as best friends grew distant, then to despise one another.
Avery grabbed her handbag, with the two journals tucked inside, and slipped into her shoes. She went to the bedroom door and peeked out. The house was quiet save for sounds coming from the kitchen.
She slipped into the hall and down the stairs. From the study came the sound of Cherry and Buddy, talking softly. Avery tiptoed past the closed door and headed to the kitchen.
In Silence Page 29
