It was late and Lucy wanted to regroup. And she still had to talk to Dr. Syed Ali about his analysis of Eliza’s interrogation, anyway. Maybe after hearing his take about the girl’s guilt, that itch along her spine would be scratched. Maybe he would confirm that Lucy was overthinking everything.
A confession, a body, a murder weapon.
“I’m going to call it a day,” Lucy said, and looked past him toward the end of the block. The B and B was right there. “I’m good to walk the two minutes.”
“You sure? I could give you a lift.” It was said in a teasing tone, one that she wouldn’t have attributed to him nine or so hours ago when she’d first met him on a rain-drenched ridge. Hicks had depths, apparently.
She laughed and waved him off, already starting down the street. “It might be touch and go, but I think I’ll make it okay.”
He watched her for a second, his cowboy hat still low over his eyes. “Tomorrow?”
“I’ll call you in the morning,” she promised, walking backward. “When I’ve figured out what the hell comes next.”
A low laugh, and then he was climbing into his pickup.
It had been a joke, mostly. But Lucy had to admit to herself that there was some truth buried beneath. She wasn’t quite sure what came next, and she had only until Monday to untangle it before Vaughn yanked her to work on the dozens of cases they had that weren’t already solved.
Except this one still felt like it fell into that category.
Right now, if Lucy had to put money on it, she’d say that Eliza had help at some point in the process, that she hadn’t been acting alone.
The local coroner would certainly be a good option, if she was looking for the accomplice.
Jackson had clear ties to the Church and could get rid of evidence as needed.
He also had the body type that could have carried Noah into the woods and the knowledge on how to make it a quick, clean kill.
A lot of people in the area would, though.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. Exhaustion was clearly setting in. There was no reason to suspect the ME of any foul play.
Her fingers toyed with her phone, though, while she wondered if she shouldn’t get Noah’s body out of Jackson’s lab tonight rather than tomorrow. Perhaps giving him warning had been a sloppy mistake.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LUCY THORNE
Friday, 6:15 p.m.
Lucy had just waved off Annie Tate’s overeager invitation to tea when she stopped, one foot on the narrow stairs.
“Annie,” she called out before the woman could disappear into the sitting room.
“Change your mind?” Annie was beside her in an instant, smile wide and happy.
“No, sorry,” Lucy said, unable to blunt that particular rejection. “You mentioned a man earlier. The one who was going to come out to fix the step.”
“Oh.” Annie’s eyes slid past her to the wobbly board. “I’m sorry, but he didn’t have the chance to make it by today. Do be careful going up.”
“No.” Lucy shrugged away that concern. “Please don’t worry about that. But, what was his name again?”
“Frank Thomas,” Annie supplied dutifully.
Frank. Frank Thomas. That’s Frank’s place. That’s what had niggled at her when she’d been at the Cooks’ house, standing in Eliza’s room. It had thrown both Josiah and Rachel to be asked about him and his property.
It had been his daughter who had supposedly run away, just three weeks before all this unfolded.
“He lives out by the Cooks?” Lucy confirmed, and Annie nodded quickly. “You had mentioned his daughter, right?”
The light behind Annie’s eyes dimmed a bit, and she glanced down, to the side. “Yes. Molly.”
“You had said she was”—how had Annie worded it?—“troubled?”
Annie’s fingers worried the bottom button of her peach cardigan as she chewed on her lower lip. After some deliberation, she seemed to make a decision, leaning forward after she did. “Hannah—that’s my sister, I should introduce you, if you wanted tea . . . no, right, of course. Well, Hannah says she used to see Molly out late at night with that Brandon Shaw fellow. Let’s just say there was no room for the Holy Spirit between them.”
It was the kind of gossip Lucy loved to gather on cases like this, but the glee with which it was divulged still left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.
“This Molly, Molly Thomas, she was neighbors with Eliza Cook?” Lucy asked despite already knowing the answer—an effort to get Annie chatting freely.
“Mmm, yes,” Annie said slowly. “They were thick as thieves, those girls.”
Yet Rachel and Josiah had made it seem like Eliza had no close friends. “You sure about that?”
“Oh yes.” Annie nodded, warming to the topic. “You wouldn’t see one without the other. And then that other girl, too. Brandon’s sister.”
“Other girl?”
“Alessandra.” Annie’s eyes went a little distant, and when they snapped back, her mouth was pursed. “That was a while back that they all ran together, though. The Shaws moved away some time ago.”
“All right,” Lucy said, easily, though her mind was turning over the information, greedy for connections.
Annie smiled and turned to leave, but Lucy stopped her when a thought struck. “Annie, did the sheriff look into Molly’s disappearance?”
“Oh, Agent Thorne, you must have misunderstood me. It wasn’t a disappearance.” Annie shook her head. “There was a note and everything. I’m sure Sheriff Hicks wanted to use it as an excuse to get in those nice people’s business, but not even he could justify it.”
Again, Lucy played dumb. “An excuse?”
Annie sighed. “Hicks,” she said sadly, and then just watched Lucy with big, unblinking eyes until Lucy nodded like she understood. Maybe she did. A bee in your bonnet.
“Does he often find excuses to investigate the Church?” Lucy asked, curious for another perspective on Hicks’s crusade.
“Seems like he’s always up there pestering them,” Annie said. “Rachel Cook’s been through enough. She doesn’t need the sheriff hovering over her shoulder all the time.”
“He checks in on Rachel?”
“Well, of course.” Annie looked at her over the rims of her glasses. “But he’s been bugging Darcy Dawson these days, too.”
That distracted Lucy from Rachel. “What? Why?”
“Poor woman,” Annie murmured. But there was a hint of glee in her voice. She was enjoying being asked so many questions about her neighbors. “She’s been having . . . episodes.”
“Episodes? What do you mean?”
“I heard it from several people that she nearly passed out at the grocery store a few weeks ago, and then again at the coffee shop,” Annie said, her voice lowered, conspiratorial. “And Mary Jane Wright told me she came upon the poor woman just staring at a blank wall at the gas station the other day.”
“Before Noah disappeared?” Lucy asked.
Annie tapped her chin in an exaggerated gesture. “Yes, I believe so. Mary Jane said when she asked if Darcy was all right, she didn’t even respond for a while. And when she came to . . .”