relying on Jake when she’d kept such a horrible secret from him?
He deserved to know the truth...to have buried his father. To have said good-bye.
But the truth—the fact that she’d lied to him—would only hurt him. And it wouldn’t bring his father back.
So she watched him leave, and waited until he’d driven away before she opened the box again.
She examined two of the envelopes and recognized her name on the outside. Curious, she quickly rifled through the stack. They were all written on stationery from the mental hospital.
And all addressed to her.
But she’d never seen them.
Nerves tingled along her spine as she removed one of the envelopes and began to read.
Dear Sadie,
Please help me. Get me out of here. You don’t know what they do to us at night. It hurts...
Tears blurred Sadie’s eyes as the writing changed. At first it had been Amelia’s, then a childlike scrawl. Then Skid’s angry slanted writing. Then Amelia’s again.
She snatched up another letter and skimmed it. This one from Skid, full of anger, hate, vows of revenge. A plan to help Amelia escape.
Sadie choked back a cry.
Amelia had been pleading for help.
She swiped at the tears streaming down her face and read another letter and another. All desperate cries.
Some described being punished. Tortured. Kept in a dark room for days. In a closet. A box. Being deprived of food and water. Of light.
Dear God. Were these ramblings from her twisted mind, or had something happened to Amelia in the sanitarium?
Dammit, Sadie had found that box.
He had looked for it before, and he’d almost had his hands on it when Sadie spotted him. What if she figured out what was going on?
He gripped the knife handle and studied the guesthouse. Maybe he should finish her off tonight.
No...that would draw suspicion.
And he didn’t need anyone, especially the law, sniffing around.
Especially since his assistant had fucked it up with Grace. And Jake Blackwood was asking questions.
Hell, he’d keep an eye on Sadie like he always had.
And if she got out of hand, or if Amelia spilled her secrets, he’d take care of both of them.
Chapter 9
J ake stewed over leaving Sadie alone as he drove toward the medical examiner’s office, but he’d checked the guesthouse, and whoever had been inside was gone. Of course, the intruder might come back, but most likely not during the day.
Not now that Sadie was there, and whoever it was knew the house wasn’t deserted.
Several instances of teens breaking and entering to steal computers and other small electronics had been reported in town, and then there were the curiosity seekers who might have heard about the murder and come snooping to see if anything valuable had been left behind. Others might just be interested in seeing the scene of the murder.
But what if it was something else? What if Sadie was in danger?
Who would want to hurt her, though?
It wasn’t as if he didn’t know who’d killed her grandfather. It had been Amelia—he’d caught her red-handed.
A truck pulled in front of him, nearly cutting him off, and he considered flipping on his siren, but honked his horn instead. He didn’t have time to chase down the jerk. A minute later, thetruck turned down a side road, and he drove on. He had to get to the morgue.
A couple of early-morning joggers made their way along the sidewalk as he wove through town, and the diner had already opened, with truckers and workers staggering in for breakfast and coffee. Jake phoned his deputy to tell him to open up.
“I’m going to the morgue about the autopsy on Grace Granger,” he told Waterstone. “Call my cell if anything comes up.”
“I’ve got it covered,” Mike said. “I’ll do rounds in the town before I go to the office.”
Jake disconnected, then drove through the doughnut shop and ordered a cup of coffee to go. Candy, the twenty-three-year old bundle of flirtatious energy, threw in his usual glazed doughnut and waved to him as he
He deserved to know the truth...to have buried his father. To have said good-bye.
But the truth—the fact that she’d lied to him—would only hurt him. And it wouldn’t bring his father back.
So she watched him leave, and waited until he’d driven away before she opened the box again.
She examined two of the envelopes and recognized her name on the outside. Curious, she quickly rifled through the stack. They were all written on stationery from the mental hospital.
And all addressed to her.
But she’d never seen them.
Nerves tingled along her spine as she removed one of the envelopes and began to read.
Dear Sadie,
Please help me. Get me out of here. You don’t know what they do to us at night. It hurts...
Tears blurred Sadie’s eyes as the writing changed. At first it had been Amelia’s, then a childlike scrawl. Then Skid’s angry slanted writing. Then Amelia’s again.
She snatched up another letter and skimmed it. This one from Skid, full of anger, hate, vows of revenge. A plan to help Amelia escape.
Sadie choked back a cry.
Amelia had been pleading for help.
She swiped at the tears streaming down her face and read another letter and another. All desperate cries.
Some described being punished. Tortured. Kept in a dark room for days. In a closet. A box. Being deprived of food and water. Of light.
Dear God. Were these ramblings from her twisted mind, or had something happened to Amelia in the sanitarium?
Dammit, Sadie had found that box.
He had looked for it before, and he’d almost had his hands on it when Sadie spotted him. What if she figured out what was going on?
He gripped the knife handle and studied the guesthouse. Maybe he should finish her off tonight.
No...that would draw suspicion.
And he didn’t need anyone, especially the law, sniffing around.
Especially since his assistant had fucked it up with Grace. And Jake Blackwood was asking questions.
Hell, he’d keep an eye on Sadie like he always had.
And if she got out of hand, or if Amelia spilled her secrets, he’d take care of both of them.
Chapter 9
J ake stewed over leaving Sadie alone as he drove toward the medical examiner’s office, but he’d checked the guesthouse, and whoever had been inside was gone. Of course, the intruder might come back, but most likely not during the day.
Not now that Sadie was there, and whoever it was knew the house wasn’t deserted.
Several instances of teens breaking and entering to steal computers and other small electronics had been reported in town, and then there were the curiosity seekers who might have heard about the murder and come snooping to see if anything valuable had been left behind. Others might just be interested in seeing the scene of the murder.
But what if it was something else? What if Sadie was in danger?
Who would want to hurt her, though?
It wasn’t as if he didn’t know who’d killed her grandfather. It had been Amelia—he’d caught her red-handed.
A truck pulled in front of him, nearly cutting him off, and he considered flipping on his siren, but honked his horn instead. He didn’t have time to chase down the jerk. A minute later, thetruck turned down a side road, and he drove on. He had to get to the morgue.
A couple of early-morning joggers made their way along the sidewalk as he wove through town, and the diner had already opened, with truckers and workers staggering in for breakfast and coffee. Jake phoned his deputy to tell him to open up.
“I’m going to the morgue about the autopsy on Grace Granger,” he told Waterstone. “Call my cell if anything comes up.”
“I’ve got it covered,” Mike said. “I’ll do rounds in the town before I go to the office.”
Jake disconnected, then drove through the doughnut shop and ordered a cup of coffee to go. Candy, the twenty-three-year old bundle of flirtatious energy, threw in his usual glazed doughnut and waved to him as he
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