“Good. Come on.” Standing, Jack extends his hand to Cooper, who takes it and pulls himself up to his feet.
We race through the hall, then down the stairs just as the doorbell rings. Johnson and Briscoe, the two paramedics who helped Miss Delia after she was attacked, are at the door, a stretcher in hand.
“She’s in the master bathroom. It’s at the back of the master suite at the end of the hall.” I point in the general direction.
“Would you like us to come with you?” Jack asks as they push past and mount the stairs.
“No thanks,” Briscoe answers. “We’ll take it from here. Y’all wait on the sheriff. He ought to be around shortly.”
With nowhere else to go, we settle onto the upholstered bench on the side of the grand foyer, waiting for whoever comes next. Cooper grasps my hand, gripping my fingers as if his life depends on it.
“It’ll be okay. I promise,” I whisper.
He gives me a hard squeeze.
Jack’s shoulders slump as if the adrenaline rush has finally worn off and the enormity of everything that’s happened has finally hit him. “I can’t believe it. Missy is dead.” He stares down at the floor, his mouth agape.
A single tear runs down Cooper’s cheek. Which is super weird. Of course her death is a horrible shock, but she was pretty awful to him, especially lately. No one would blame him if he didn’t exactly mourn her passing.
I search for something to make him feel better. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure you’re going to miss her.” Lame, but isn’t that what you’re supposed to say when someone dies?
Both he and Jack turn to me, their brows crinkled in confusion.
“Are you crazy?” Jack asks.
I shrug. “What do you want from me? His stepmother just died and he’s obviously upset about it.”
Cooper shakes his head. “I’m sorry she’s gone. But that’s not why I’m upset.” He swallows hard.
“Then why?” Jack looks mystified.
Cooper draws a deep breath then exhales, bracing himself. “She looks just like my mom did when she died.”
Chapter Ten
“What?” Jack asks, his jaw hanging as slack as mine.
Cooper never talks about his mother. Ever. So to bring her up now—and her death when he was just five years old—amid everything that’s happening just makes it all the more jarring.
Cooper opens his mouth but then shuts it again and drops his gaze to the floor.
Sirens wail and speed toward the house. Jack and I spring off the bench and charge to open the front door. Two sheriff cars barrel down the driveway at top speed, kicking up gravel, then skid to a stop behind the ambulance in front of the Big House. The two deputies in the first car barely allow it to come to a stop before jumping out and racing up the front steps.
The first, a thick-necked, muscle-bound specimen of crime-fighting prowess, clasps his hand on the grip of his holstered revolver. “Where’s the crime scene?” he asks Jack.
“Upstairs, hang a right, then head to the end of the hall.”
Muscles and his partner fly up the stairs. A second later the Beaufort County sheriff jogs up the porch steps, then wipes the soles of his buffed cowboy boots on the mat before stepping into the house. Moving with less urgency than his deputies, he removes his ten-gallon hat. His close-shorn gray hair sets off his light brown skin. “Morning. I’m Sheriff Walker. Beau home?”
I rise off the bench. “No, but he’s on his way. Mrs. Beaumont’s upstairs. In the master bathroom. The paramedics are up there, too.” Swallowing hard over the lump rising in my throat, I point in the general direction of the growing commotion upstairs. Even from down here, I hear their shocked and almost excited voices. St. Helena’s a pretty sleepy island so I’m guessing they don’t come across many dead bodies. At least not those belonging to young people.
The sheriff nods. “Sounds like Goodwin and Thomas have it well in hand. But there’s likely to be a bunch more folk coming through here and y’all probably don’t want to be in the way. Is there some place quiet you can wait for Mr. Beaumont?” His lips curl into a benevolent but unmistakably lethal grin. Though he asked nicely, this isn’t a request.
Jack nods. “Uh, sure. I guess we can hang out in the library. Hey, Coop, come on, we’re moving out of here.”
“Huh?” Cooper’s head snaps up. He stares at us for a second. When Jack motions toward the library, Cooper nods. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” Pushing off the bench, he heads across the foyer, his expression as flat as an ironing board.
“He’s still in shock,” I tell the sheriff, as if it’s not totally obvious.
“I bet,” Sheriff Walker says as he accompanies us to the library door. Ducking his head, he scans the room, then watches as we take our seats. Cooper and I share one of the huge, red-silk sofas while Jack settles into a leather club chair. “It shouldn’t be too long. Soon as Beau gets here, we’ll have a little talk about how you found her. Until then, I’m going to have a look-see around the house. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, course not.” Cooper shakes his head and his eyes drift toward the window to stare out at the rose garden.
When Sheriff Walker steps away, a wave of relief crashes over me. Thank goodness Jack had us straighten Cooper’s room. That mess would have definitely raised his suspicions. But then my stomach drops just as fast. The solarium. We didn’t think to check it this morning and have no idea whether it’s still the shambles it was last night before we left. Knowing Missy, there’s no chance she cleaned it up and even less that Beau fixed it. What the heck is the sheriff going to think when he sees it?
Jack shoots me a look, his twin sense undoubtedly on full alert. “What’s wrong, Em?”
“The solarium,” I whisper, just in case Sheriff Walker’s still in the hall, eavesdropping.
A deep grunt rumbles in his chest. “Dang. I didn’t even think about that.” Sinking back into the club chair, he rubs his chin. “There’s nothing we can do about it. If they see it, we’ll just say it’s under renovation. It already looks like it’s been hit by a wrecking ball. Plus, since her fingerprints are all over the place, we’re safe. It can’t implicate us like the knife.”
As if he’s just reminded himself of the real danger, Jack lunges forward again. “The knife. Was it in the bathroom?”
“I looked around and didn’t see it near her.” Then a horrible thought grips me. “Of course it could have been under her.”
Jack sinks his forehead against his open palm. “Well, if it’s up there, they’ll find it.”
“What if it’s not?” I whisper, my brain spinning with the possible permutations.
Cooper pulls out of his trance. “Then someone else has it.”
But who? Before I have a chance to contemplate that, a commotion erupts in the hall. Voices converge and raise, making it impossible to make out any words.
“Enough of this obstruction!” Beau’s slurry voice booms above the rest and bounces off the high ceiling in the foyer. “My wife is dead! I demand to see her!” A strange, strangled sound erupts, halfway between a gasp and a stifled wail. If I didn’t know he was soulless, I’d swear he sounded heartbroken.
Seconds later, Beau drags himself into the library, grunting as he leans hard against his cane. Huffing for air, he grumbles unintelligible words as he clutches his side with his free hand and hobbles toward the sofa facing Cooper and me. With great effort, he eases into the well-worn depression in the cushions as the wooden frame cracks and squeaks under his weight. As usual, the stench of rancid luncheon meat hovers around him.
“You’ll understand that given his obvious distress, Mr. Beaumont won’t likely be much help in answering your questions, though we’ll be happy to hear what you can tell us about this tragic accident.” A familiar voice, heavily accented and slick as oil, carries from the hall. I know I’ve heard it before but I can’t quite place it.