Did Anita and Dory not tell me the truth?
“That’s the spot I nearly died at. Jeez, I was a stupid kid,” Emily said.
“Yes, you were.”
“You could have just as easily gone over the edge.”
Her father’s pocket watch popped into Madison’s thoughts—the shooting had wiped it from her mind. She glanced at Emily, her nose close to the photo of their parents, a hungry look in her eyes. Now or never.
“Em . . . I found Dad’s pocket watch in your room.”
Emily set down the photo and turned to Madison, dismay on her face. “You were in my room?”
“Yes. And I’m sorry, but why did you have it? Have you hidden it all these years?” Her sister’s expression was blank, but Madison knew anger simmered under the surface. “Mom searched high and low for that watch.”
“I know.”
Madison crossed her arms and tipped her head, waiting.
“I found it at Lindsay’s . . . that morning.”
Her heart stumbled. “What?”
“It was in the backyard. I stepped on it.”
“How . . .” Madison’s brain shut down. “Why . . .”
“I don’t know.” A shadow passed across Emily’s eyes. “Trust me, I’m still as confused as you are now. I told the FBI agents, and Agent McLane and I were driving to get it when . . . the accident happened.” Her throat moved as she swallowed hard.
“What d-does it mean?” Madison’s tongue stuttered over the words.
“I wish I knew.”
The memory of Emily picking up something in the yard the night their father was murdered suddenly rushed over her. “I saw you outside the night that Dad—I saw you pick up something from the grass. When I found the watch, I assumed that’s what you picked up.”
Emily paled. “You never said anything back then.”
“You never said anything. The investigators believed you were in the house. I saw you outside.” Her heartbeat accelerated, and a light-headedness made her sit in the other office chair.
Her sister’s mouth opened and closed, her eyes wide.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Madison caught her breath. “What are you hiding?” she whispered, her voice pleading for truth.
Tendons stood out on Emily’s neck, her pulse visible.
“Emily.”
Her sister ran a hand over her forehead and pressed at her temple. “What if I’m wrong?”
“Wrong about what?” Madison tensed, every muscle like rock.
Emily turned her attention back to the photo of their parents. “Wrong that I saw Tara out there that night.”
Her head reeled, and Madison clutched the arms of the chair. “Tara? No—she wasn’t there. She was at a friend’s. She said so.” Nausea swamped her. “I thought I saw Mom in the backyard moving in the trees.” Madison covered her face. “What is going on?”
“It wasn’t Mom,” Emily said. “I understand how you thought it was her because of the hair, but it was Tara.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. I saw Tara.” Emily’s voice was hollow. “In the woods, running.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone you saw me?” Emily shot back.
“Because I wanted to protect you!”
“I was doing the same for Tara!”
The sisters stared at each other, both of their chests heaving, the air in the tiny office heavy with guilt and secrets.
Emily believed she was protecting Tara by staying silent.
“What did Tara do?” Madison whispered.
“I don’t know—I don’t want to know.”
Realization struck Madison like a hammer, stealing her breath. “That’s why you never searched for her.”
“I didn’t want to know what she had done.” Emily’s eyes were wet. “It had to be bad—why else would she leave?” She set down the photo as a struggle played out across her face.
“What is it?” Madison’s heart sank at her sister’s expression. “Tell me.”
“Zander found Tara this morning. I talked to her just hours ago.”
Madison’s mouth dried up, and her core turned to ice.
“Girls?” Dory stepped in the office, worry on her soft features, her hands in knots.
“What is it, Auntie?” Emily asked as calmly as if she and Madison had been discussing the weather. Madison was still speechless, Emily’s revelations ricocheting like a Super Ball in her skull.
Dory frowned, the lines around her mouth deepening. “I believe I just saw Tara.”
Emily rose out of her chair. “Where?” she gasped.
“Well, I think it was her. You know I’ve thought I’ve seen her a few times in the past.” Her gaze was uncertain.
True. Dory had directed them on a few wrong expeditions, startling confused young women.
“She looked right at me,” Dory continued. “She was older, of course, and her hair was short and brown, but I’m sure it was her.”
Disappointment filled Madison. Dory was confused.
“Brown hair?” Emily grasped Dory’s arm. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. It was about this long.” Dory lifted a hand to her chin.
“Madison. That’s her.” Excitement filled Emily’s face. “She’s come back.”
“Wait.” Madison struggled to catch up. “You mean that’s how her hair looks now?”
“Yes. Is she in the diner, Dory?”
“No. I saw her in a car—well, one of those SUV things.”
“Where?” Impatience rolled off Emily.
“She passed me as I drove to town. When I looked in the rearview mirror, I saw her turn onto Seabound Road.”
“That road only goes to one place,” Emily said. She picked up one of the pictures, holding it for Madison to see. “This one.”
Their parents posed on the overlook.
32
Zander met Sheriff Greer in front of Leo’s home.
According to Isaac, Billy was hiding out three houses down from where he lived with Leo. A deputy had done a drive-by, but the house sat too far back in the tall trees to be seen from the road.
“How confident are you in your witness?” Greer asked Zander, holding his hat against the wind. Two deputies had joined them, forming a huddle in Leo’s driveway, out of sight of any cars that would pass.
Zander doubted anyone would drive down the road. The area felt deserted. Isaac had been right when he described it as isolated. Only the presence of gravel driveways that fed into the road hinted that homes even existed.
It was a good place to disappear.
He thought about how Isaac had struggled to tell him the news. As nervous as he was, Zander had seen certainty in his eyes. “He got pretty close. He was positive it was Billy.”
“The house is a rental. The owner says a young woman named Rachel Wolfe is the current renter.”
“That backs up Kyle Osburne’s suggestion that his brother might be with a girl.”
“Fifty-fifty chance that the renter was female,” Greer pointed out.
“But a young female?”
The sheriff grunted. “Wish I knew if he was armed.”
“There’s a good chance he is since he’s a suspect in Nate Copeland’s murder,” Zander said.