After he’d died, the pocket watch was nowhere to be found. Her mother had been furious, convinced his killer had taken the watch, or possibly one of the investigators. When the police had suggested it was lost in the house fire—since all their belongings had burned—her mother had brushed off their theory. Her father had worked late that night and still had on his jeans when he was killed; the watch would have been in his pocket.
How? How did the watch end up here?
Did one of the aunts have it and give it to Emily? Without telling Madison?
Her mother had pointed out that her father’s wallet was still in his pocket. Why would anyone take an old watch and leave the leather wallet with thirty-two dollars?
No one had an answer, and the watch was forgotten, presumably never to be seen again.
How long has Emily had it?
Hearing the front door open and shut, Madison slipped the watch in her pocket and darted out of the bedroom. She silently jogged to her own room, where she listened as Emily came up the stairs. The light switch in Emily’s room clicked, and Madison held her breath, hoping she’d left everything the way Emily’d had it. Madison yanked off her Goonies cap, ran a hand through her hair, and shed her coat. After a long moment, she went back to Emily’s room.
Her sister sat at her desk, leafing through a stack of papers.
“Hey, Em.”
Emily didn’t turn and continued sorting her papers. “Hi, Madison. Did you know there was a meeting at the church tonight about the Fitch murders?”
Her sister’s casual tone was like nails on a chalkboard.
“I was there,” Madison replied in the same tone.
That made Emily swing around, her eyes narrowing, a slight frown on her face. “I didn’t see you.”
“I was standing by Uncle Rod. I saw you at the back with the two FBI agents.”
“I didn’t notice Rod either. I bumped into Agent McLane in the parking lot.” Emily’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Agent Wells showed up later.”
Madison cocked her head at the subtle change in her sister’s tone as she mentioned Agent Wells.
She’s attracted to him too.
Her mouth twitched as she studied Emily. How long would it take them to realize it was mutual? Madison wasn’t jealous; Agent Wells was attractive but not her type; he kept himself restrained behind his cool exterior.
The agent’s and her sister’s mutual attraction was a moot point. Any professional would know better than to become involved with a witness in a murder investigation.
“It got pretty heated in there,” Madison said, just to keep the conversation going. “Sounds like no one knows what’s going on.”
“Two days haven’t even passed since they died,” Emily snapped as she glared at her sister. “This is real life, not TV. Murders aren’t solved in an episode.”
Madison lifted her chin. “I’m well aware of how long Lindsay’s been dead.” The words were spoken to dig at her sister, but they pierced her own heart. Her breath seized at the sharp pain, and she looked away.
She felt Emily’s perceptive gaze on her and fought to get her mourning under control.
“It’s like losing another sister,” Emily said.
Sister . . .
“Tara’s not dead.” Madison refused to believe it. Anger emboldened her. She brushed her hair off her shoulder and met Emily’s stare. “Why does no one care or talk about Tara? Why did we let her push us out of her life?”
Her sister’s face went blank. “Her life, her decision. If she doesn’t want anything to do with us, so be it.”
Madison glared. “I can’t believe you’re still that cold.”
“I simply said what everyone else is thinking.”
“This is our sister we’re talking about. Don’t you care?”
“Tara left; she had that right. Something made her decide to put a lot of space between us and herself, and until she wants to talk about it, it’s none of our business.”
“But what on earth would make her never contact any of us? Don’t you ever wonder?”
“No.” Emily spun around to her papers. “Let it go, Madison.”
Madison stared at her back. This wasn’t the Emily she knew. Emily released spiders outdoors instead of killing them. She let senior citizens talk her ear off for an hour at the diner without interrupting once. She was blunt, but Emily proved over and over that she was a caring human being. Except when it came to Tara.
“What did Tara do to you?” Madison whispered as the hair rose on her arms. Something wasn’t being said.
“Go to bed, Madison.”
“You’re not a fucking post without feelings. Why will no one talk about this? Why am I the only person who’s bothered to search for our sister?”
Emily said nothing.
Suddenly light-headed, Madison took a half step back, understanding that secrets were being kept and it was possible that lies had been told about Tara for decades. She touched the bulge of the watch in her pocket. More lies.
What is going on?
17
Madison guzzled an energy drink for breakfast as she quickly handled the mess in the mansion’s kitchen and kept an eye on the time. She needed to be out the door in five minutes to get to the diner by six thirty. Her aunts had left dishes on the counter from what appeared to be apple pie and vanilla ice cream. Dessert must have been needed after last night’s meeting.
“Morning, dear. Is there coffee yet?” Dory yawned. Her white hair was flat against her head on one side, and mismatched slippers peeked from below her faded chenille robe. Thea and Vina had the same robe.
“I’ll get it started for you.” Madison snatched the carafe and held it under the faucet. “I don’t make coffee the mornings I work. I get mine at the diner.”
“Oh. I guess Thea makes it on those days. It’s always ready when I come down.” Dory peered at the clock on the microwave. “My goodness. I didn’t realize it was so early.” She rubbed her backside. “My sciatica bothered me all night. Nothing I take seems to touch the pain. It’s been good for months, so I don’t know why it’s suddenly acting up.”
Madison knew all about Dory’s sciatica woes. The doctor had assured Madison that her great-aunt had the healthy spine of a fifteen-year-old and suggested the lower pain was from something else. Madison measured coffee grounds into the filter. “Maybe it flared up from those hard pews last night. They always make me sore.”
Her aunt’s mouth opened in a large O. “I bet you’re right. It was impossible to get comfortable during that meeting. Thea threatened to sit elsewhere if I didn’t hold still. You’re a smart girl.” She chuckled and patted Madison’s arm. “You look very nice today.”
Dory always gave her a compliment when Madison wore the wide-legged swishy jumpsuit. It felt like weightless silk against her skin, and she knew few people could pull off the thick black and white vertical stripes the way she could. Emily hated the jumpsuit. Which might have been part of the reason Madison had put it on that morning. A slicked-back high pony along with nude makeup—except for her favorite fire engine–red lipstick—completed her look du jour.