“I don’t need this.” Madison turned to leave.
“Wait. That’s not why—”
“I know,” Madison said, glancing back at her. “It’s about Lindsay. Why do you think I’m so late?” She sucked in a shuddering breath.
Empathy filled Emily. They all mourned Lindsay, but the loss of her friend had to be a deeper shock for Madison.
“Down at Patrick’s Place, they’re saying Sean was hanged,” Madison whispered. She met Emily’s gaze. “Is that true?” Her voice quivered, and even in the poor light Emily saw the terror in her sister’s eyes.
This is why I didn’t tell her any details.
“Yes, it’s true, but he was stabbed first. That may have been what actually killed him.”
“Oh God.” Madison clasped a hand over her eyes, her shoulders slumping. “I can see it. It won’t go away.”
Emily touched her arm. “I understand. It’s all I can see too.”
“It’s not Sean I see.” Madison’s whisper was nearly inaudible.
“I know.” Her heart cracked. Emily would do anything to take away the sight in her sister’s head.
And her own.
The sisters rarely talked about their parents’ deaths. It was a taboo topic in their home. One best swept under the rug so they could pretend it had never happened. Because dwelling on it would take over their minds and hearts, keeping everything else out.
“I wish Mom was here.” Emily strained to hear Madison’s hushed words. “Or Tara.”
Tara’s face flashed in Emily’s mind. Eternally eighteen.
She is nearly forty now.
The old sense of abandonment pushed on a door in Emily’s mind, and she said nothing.
Madison lowered her hand, and her eyes glittered in the dark. “You don’t care, do you? You don’t miss them at all,” she hissed.
“That’s not fair—”
“You barely say a word about either one. Our sister is out there somewhere, and you won’t talk to me about her.”
Truth.
“I’ve looked for her,” Madison said. “You change the topic every time I talk about her.”
“She knows where to find us. We’ve never left this town. If she wanted to be part of this family, she’d be here. I’m not going to waste my time searching for someone who doesn’t want to see us.”
She deliberately threw out the last sentence, wanting to shock Madison into silence.
Emily pressed her lips shut. She’d said enough.
But flames still shot from Madison’s eyes. Emily knew how to calm them.
“Remember when Dad would pile us in the car and just take off for a long weekend?” Emily said softly. “Just the four of us so Mom could have some kid-free time. We never knew where we were going, but Dad made friends everywhere. The Redwoods. Pendleton. Portland. That wild animal place in southern Oregon . . .”
“Wildlife Safari,” Madison added wistfully. “I touched a giraffe’s tongue. Dad wasn’t supposed to put the car window down, but he did.”
“The animals came right up to the car.”
“Bears and tigers. Elephants.”
A good day.
Silence filled the room as they were caught up in their own memories.
“Is that why you stayed up past one?” Madison asked. “To tell me not to be late for work?”
To see that you got home safely after a horrible day.
“Something like that.”
“I’m not going to sleep tonight.” Madison swayed on her feet. She turned away and put her hand on the doorknob.
“That makes two of us.” Emily’s mind had been racing from the moment she lay down. It showed no sign of slowing. The wilt in her sister’s usually perfect posture struck a chord in Emily’s chest. “I’m really sorry, Madison. I know how close you were to Lindsay.”
Her sister paused. “Maybe we weren’t as close as I thought,” she said softly. She opened the door and walked away, one hand on the wall to keep her balance.
Emily listened to her steps. Madison’s door opened and closed.
What does that mean?
8
“Weather report says there is a strong storm coming soon,” Ava commented as she met up with Zander in the diner parking lot the next morning. Zander wasn’t surprised. The wind had nearly whipped his SUV door into the car next to him as he stepped out. It wasn’t raining, but the air was heavy with salty, cold moisture.
The morning was gray and depressing again. Miserable. But a dozen vehicles were parked in the lot of the Barton Diner. He judged them to be local vehicles. Heavy-duty trucks and small older sedans that had been weathered by wind and salt. Zander was starving for food and warmth. The log cabin diner gave off a welcoming vibe and a promise of good coffee and hearty food. No doubt the locals came for the same reasons.
Inside he automatically looked for Emily, but he didn’t see her, and disappointment briefly flared. The restaurant was half-full, and the smell of bacon made his stomach rumble, returning his focus to food. Madison approached, a coffeepot in hand. Her black jeans were constructed of more holes than fabric, and her hot-pink satin top hurt his eyes. “Take a seat anywhere, and I’ll be right with you.” She handed them two menus and strode away in red spike heels.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ava’s brows shoot up. They took the closest booth, near a window, and opened their menus. Ava’s gaze followed Madison. “That can’t be the sister of our witness.”
“It is.”
“She looks nothing like her.” Ava studied the waitress. “But I like her hair. And confidence.”
Zander turned to look. He hadn’t noticed Madison’s hair, but now saw it was in a complex, messy knot at the nape of her neck. She poured coffee, cleared plates, and delivered an order without missing a stride in her heels.
“She’s got control of the floor,” Ava went on. “Misses nothing.”
“You waited tables?”
“College. And a bit after. It’s not an easy job.”
Watching Madison efficiently work, he wondered what her relationship with Emily was like. He’d learned a bit about Tara and Emily at the mansion yesterday, but not Madison.
He needed to focus on the murders, not the three sisters. “Did you talk with Sean Fitch’s relatives yesterday?” he asked Ava.
“The sheriff hadn’t contacted his family yet, so I requested that an agent from the Portland office visit and inform them in person. He gave them my number and told them to call when they were ready to talk. His father called me within a few hours. As you can imagine, they’re hurt and confused.”
Madison appeared at their table. “Coffee?”
“Please,” Zander and Ava answered in unison. Madison turned over the coffee cups on the table and poured.
“Do you know what you want?”
Zander ordered an egg-white omelet, and Ava asked for apple French toast with a side of eggs. He glanced at the menu and saw hers came with whipped cream and caramel sauce.
He immediately regretted his order.
Madison didn’t write anything down but gave a smile as she took their menus.
“That’s not breakfast,” Zander said after she left. “You ordered dessert.”
“That’s why I added the eggs. Any place can make an omelet. I judge a restaurant by their French toast. There are hundreds of ways to do it, and I like to see if places are lazy or unique.”