Dying to Tell (7 page)

Lord help her. She’d forgotten how exhausting it was to pretend everything was okay when
nothing
was okay.

Jake offered a half-sympathetic look, but she avoided looking directly into his eyes. She didn’t want any kind of connection to him.

Still, just the sight of him tempted her to fall into his arms. “I need to see Dr. Tynsdale.”

Jake nodded. “Thanks for trying to talk to your sister, Sadie.”

A streak of anger shot through her. “I’m not trying to get you a confession. I want to see Amelia well, not in prison.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I...” Jake shrugged, his eyes troubled. “Never mind. Your sister’s attorney is here.”

Chin high, she shouldered her way past Jake and headed through the double doors to the front. Mike was on the phone, laughing, leaning back in his chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world, which irritated her even more, although she didn’t take the time to analyze the reason.

Chad Marshall stood looking out the window at the rain, an expensive-looking briefcase in one hand. Pausing at the threshold, she took a minute to study him. His sandy brown hair was shorter now, combed back from his forehead in a
GQ
sort of way, and judging from his charcoal-gray suit, he must be doing well financially. He also looked trim and fit, but he’d never been the outdoorsy type, so she assumed he belonged to a gym.

The ladies probably loved him.

But she couldn’t help comparing him to Jake. Jake was sexier—taller, gruffer, more masculine, with a thicker body, massive shoulders, a firmly set jaw. Not as cocky as Chad. No, Jake’s smile didn’t come as easy as Chad’s, and there was no flirtatious gleam in his eyes. She pictured Jake living in a rustic cabin in the
woods, while Chad probably owned one of the modern condos being built on the other side of Slaughter Creek.

For years she’d compared every man she met to Jake.

And none of them had measured up.

One of the reasons she was doomed to be alone.

The other—well, she couldn’t think about getting close to anyone else. Or having a family—not when this horrible illness might be passed on to a child of her own.

Chad extended his hand. “Hey, Sadie. It’s nice to see you again.”

Not how she wanted to be reintroduced, but she shook his hand, her stomach roiling at the idea of having to share details about her sister with him.

All that mattered was that he was good at his job. “Thanks for agreeing to represent Amelia.”

“Sure. Everyone is entitled to counsel.”

She frowned at his unspoken words.
Even the insane
.

Chad released her hand, then reached inside his jacket and removed a piece of paper. “I have a court order from Judge Horner to move Amelia Nettleton to a psychiatric facility for evaluation and treatment until trial.” He gave her a conspiratorial look. “That is, if there is a trial. I think we can cut a deal and keep this out of court.”

Meaning a deal to lock her sister away in the mental asylum for the rest of her life.

Sadie shrugged. Maybe that was best. If Amelia was dangerous to herself or other people—and she obviously was—she shouldn’t be on the streets. But she’d worked so hard in therapy to earn her freedom and live at home that Sadie wanted to know what had made her snap.

Jake accepted the papers, gave them a perfunctory once-over, then nodded. “Doc Tynsdale going to escort her?”

Chad nodded. “He should be here any minute. Of course, Sheriff, we realize you’ll have to accompany Amelia until she’s secured.”

As if on cue, the front door opened, and Dr. Tynsdale appeared. He looked weathered and frazzled, and his hair had turned white. It was thinning now, and his glasses were thicker, wire rims that sat slightly crooked on his face. He’d also lost weight.

The stark scent of cigarettes still clung to him, indicating that he hadn’t given up his habit of chain-smoking Marlboros, something Sadie had always thought was odd for a doctor who knew the risks. Judging from his yellow pallor, he must be paying for it.

“Sadie,” he said, then reached to hug her. She stiffened, uncomfortable with his show of affection. That moat she’d built around her heart was built of steel.

“Thanks for coming,” she said and eased away.

He gave a conciliatory nod. “You know I’m always here for you and your sister.” He angled his head toward Chad. “You have the paperwork in order?”

Chad gestured toward Jake. “It’s in the sheriff’s hands.”

“Good.” Dr. Tynsdale adjusted his glasses. “Then let’s transfer Amelia to the hospital so she can begin to recover from this ordeal.”

Sadie forced herself not to react. She’d been down this road before. Her sister would never completely recover.

Only the broken pieces of her mind remained.

Jake pressed a hand to the doctor’s chest before he could escape through the door. “I understand about patient-doctor privilege, but, Doc, this is a homicide investigation. I’d appreciate any information you glean from Amelia so we can tie up this mess.”

Tynsdale’s eyes flattened, the friendly smile he’d given Sadie dissipating. Jake’s hackles rose. Good fucking grief. He wasn’t the enemy here.

For all they knew, Amelia could have turned that shotgun on herself and committed suicide after she’d killed her grandfather, and he’d saved her damn life.

Besides, how could he put the case to bed if the doctor refused to share what he learned? Amelia certainly wouldn’t open up to him.

“Amelia is mentally ill, Sheriff,” Dr. Tynsdale said. “Don’t expect too much.”

Jake gave him a deadpan look. Then the psychiatrist and Chad pushed through the doors to the back. Sadie followed, obviously hoping she could help with Amelia.

The keys jangled in Jake’s hands as he brought up the rear, and he remained alert in case one of Amelia’s alters suddenly confessed.

Sadie’s sister was huddled on the cot, clutching the blanket to her. Was the childlike Bessie occupying her body, or had Amelia returned?

“Amelia, my name is Chad Marshall,” Chad said. “I’m a friend of Sadie’s and an attorney. I’m going to be representing you. Can we talk?”

Amelia looked up at Chad as if she had no idea who he was. Of course Bessie wouldn’t.

Dr. Tynsdale elbowed Chad aside and gripped the bars of the cell. “Open the door, Sheriff.”

Jake jammed the key in the lock, twisted it, then pushed the cell door open.

Dr. Tynsdale moved inside. “Amelia, you’ve been through a terrible ordeal,” he said in a soothing tone. “I’m going to carry you back to the hospital so you can rest.”

Amelia scooted all the way to the back of the cot. “I heard the chimes...they’re singing...no, crying...” She pressed her hands over her ears. “Make them stop.”

Dr. Tynsdale placed a hand at the base of her neck and gently squeezed, then lifted her left hand and whispered something low
in her ear. The fight drained from Amelia, and she accepted his outstretched hand and stood. Then she shuffled out behind him like a docile child.

Jake followed close behind as the doctor escorted her to the front of the jail, then outside. Chad climbed into his expensive silver Lexus, but the doc and Amelia slid into the back of the squad car.

Rain drizzled down, slapping the pavement, adding a miserable chill to the air. A handful of teenagers milling around the diner next door paused to stare and whisper.

Edith Swoony, sixty and counting, steered her thirty-year-old son Joe across a mud hole. Loony Swoony, the kids cruelly called him, because he was mentally challenged and had never progressed cognitively or behaviorally beyond age six.

Oblivious to Sadie’s dilemma, Joe looked up at Sadie and gave her a crooked smile. She returned a smile, as if she felt a kinship with the boy. Jake supposed she did. They had both been the butt of gossip all their lives, and still were.

At least Joe’s mother loved him and took care of him. Did Sadie have anyone now that her grandfather was gone? Maybe a boyfriend or lover?

The thought sent a seed of jealousy through him, but he forced it away.

Sadie had a tough road ahead of her here.

But he couldn’t be the one to hold her hand. Not with his job and the history between them in the way.

A dark-haired woman in heels and a blue suit strode toward Sadie as she headed toward her rental car. Sadie tensed. She looked like a woman on a mission and had a camera slung over her shoulder. Probably a reporter.

As she grew nearer, Sadie grimaced. It was Brenda Banks from high school. Brenda had been on the dance team, had been beautiful and popular. And Jake’s girlfriend.

Everything Sadie wasn’t.

Then Sadie got Jake, and Brenda was furious. She made it her mission to make Sadie’s life miserable by shunning her when she and Jake were together, and gossiping about Amelia in the school newsletter.

“Sadie Nettleton,” Brenda said now in a falsely friendly voice. “Remember me—Brenda Banks?”

“Yes,” Sadie said tightly. “How could I forget you?”

Brenda winced slightly, then pasted on a smile. “I’m with the
Gazette
now. I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather.”

Sadie murmured her thanks, but Brenda didn’t miss a beat.

“I thought you might give me a statement about your sister’s arrest. Why did your sister shoot your grandfather?”

Sadie had dealt with plenty of reporters on the job, but this case was personal. Besides, the grapevine worked at lightning speed in Slaughter Creek. It wouldn’t matter what she said; everyone in town had already formed his or her own opinion.

Jake stepped up beside her. “Brenda, I told you all I can on the phone. We’re not at liberty to discuss the investigation yet.”

She batted her eyes at Jake. “I know that, Sheriff, but I thought Sadie might want to give her side. Maybe we could do a personal profile piece about how difficult it is growing up with an emotionally disturbed relative. Might create some sympathy for Amelia.”

“I’m not interested, Brenda,” Sadie said matter-of-factly. “Now please, move so I can get in my car.”

Brenda lifted her camera. “Come on, just a quick photo and a statement.”

Sadie pushed the camera away. “Please, Brenda. I just lost my grandfather. This is not the time.”

The woman pursed her red lips and feigned a hurt look. Sadie didn’t care if she was rude. She didn’t intend to have Amelia’s or her picture plastered across the news, especially not her sister’s. Not in her current condition.

And there was no telling what kind of spin Brenda would put on the story.

“Think about it,” Brenda said. “I’m really on your side, Sadie.”

Yeah, just like she was in high school.

Jake put a hand to her arm, urging her to move. “I’ll let you know when I’m prepared to make a statement. Now please respect Sadie’s privacy.”

Brenda frowned, then jerked her arm from his grip. “You can’t stop me from doing my job, Sheriff.”

Jake’s dark eyes narrowed. “But I can and will keep you from harassing other citizens.”

Sadie wanted to hug him for defending her, but she climbed in her car and shut the door instead while Jake escorted Brenda to her BMW.

Sadie fell in line behind Chad’s Lexus and Jake’s squad car, their entourage reminding her of a funeral train as they headed toward Slaughter Creek Sanitarium.

The town hadn’t changed much in the past few years. Buster’s Barbeque still seemed to hold a crowd, as did Dougie’s Diner. A new restaurant called the Station had been built beside the railroad tracks in the center of the town, and a coffee shop called What a Grind sat on the corner. Had Slaughter Creek joined the twenty-first century with its wireless networks and latte and cappuccino craze?

Ted’s Hardware had a new coat of paint and awning. The Roll & Dye beauty parlor occupied the same space catering to the blue-hairs, and a Dollar Store had replaced the Five-and-Dime. In the middle on the other side of the square, the library adjoined City Hall and was flanked by insurance and real estate offices. Next to it, Fiona’s Flower Shop showcased vases filled with festive
flowers, and at the end of the row of buildings, a day care stood, with a colorful play yard boasting wooden cartoon characters surrounded by a fence.

At the edge of town, the trailer park sat like an eyesore with its add-on porches, weed-choked yards, and battered children’s toys.