Secrets Never Told Read online

  “Thanks,” said Jean. “Both of us have suffered losses.”

  “We’ve got several questions to answer,” Enid said. “Are those bones from the inn actually Angel? If so, then why was she killed and who did it? And why were her bones moved to the inn?” Enid turned to Jean. “And then, who killed Sheriff Waters and why? Did he simply startle whoever was staying at the farm? Or was he targeted? And why did the killer come after you?”

  “What do the police think?” Jean asked Enid.

  “Even though Josh and I are seeing each other, we don’t share everything we know. We have ‘boundaries,’” Enid smiled making air quotes with her fingers. “What I’m trying to say is, Josh and I haven’t talked about this level of detail.”

  “Uh, oh,” Phyllis said. “I think there might be some complications on the home front.” All three women laughed, easing the tension.

  Enid pulled her phone from her tote. “Jean, you knew Angel and can identify her, right?”

  “I hope so. I’ve tried to pull her face into my memory, but it’s been years.”

  Enid asked Jean, “You knew Angel when she was a young child, before you left the area?”

  “That’s right.”

  Enid opened the photos of the facial reconstruction and handed her phone to Phyllis. “Jean has seen this, but I’d like for you to look at it.”

  Phyllis looked at the photos. She closed her eyes, and then opened them and looked again. “That’s her. That’s Angel.”

  “Are you sure?” Enid asked.

  Phyllis nodded and then buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “I’m sorry. This is all just too much for me.” Jean reached in her purse and handed a tissue to Phyllis. “We’ll all get through this . . . together.”

  Jean turned to Enid. “Can you send me a copy of that reconstruction? I’d like to show it to someone.”

  ☐ ☐ ☐

  At the newspaper office, Ginger followed Jack down the hallway. “But he wants to talk to you now,” she said.

  Jack stopped and turned to face her. “I said, I’ll call him later.” He began walking again. “Where is Enid?”

  “I imagine she’s in her office. You know, like where she belongs.”

  Jack walked into Enid’s office and shut the door. “That woman is driving me crazy.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Ginger.”

  Enid laughed. “She says the same thing about you. Is that all you wanted to tell me? Or to what do I owe this visit?”

  Jack rubbed his neck. “I think we need to sit down with Josh, Sheriff Hart, and fill him in on Phyllis’ identification of the reconstruction.” Jack waived a piece of paper in the air. “I read your report. This is damn good stuff, but we can’t sit on it, and we sure can’t report on it.”

  “I was going to tell him. His focus has been on finding Boogie’s killer, which should be his priority. I’m not sure he accepts yet that somehow the bones are connected.” Enid shrugged. “Or maybe they aren’t. I think Phyllis really wants those bones to be Angel. She needs closure, although if it is Angel, that won’t exonerate Reggie.”

  “What about the girl they arrested? Is she talking?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know.” Enid tapped her pencil eraser on the desk. “You know, I think I’ll do an article on squatters. It’s apparently become a real problem, not just here but across the country.”

  Jack stood up. “Yeah, alright. That’s fine. But let’s set something up with Josh. The sooner the better.”

  CHAPTER 54

  Jean waited in the lobby of her mother’s nursing home. According to the nurse, Lillian had been agitated all night and had not slept well. The nurse wasn’t sure Lillian was up to having visitors. Jean was flipping through a two-year-old copy of Reader’s Digest when the nurse approached her.

  “I’ll let you see Miss Lillian, but if she becomes agitated again, we’ll have to sedate her.”

  Jean stood to follow the nurse. “I understand.”

  Lillian was sitting in her favorite chair staring out the window. The nurse pointed to the red button on the side of Lillian’s bed. “Just push that button if you need me. I’ll check on her later.”

  After the nurse left, Jean sat in the rocking chair near her and pulled an enlarged photo from a folder. She put it in Lillian’s lap, without a word. Lillian’s gaze never changed, as she continued to stare out the window.

  After a few minutes, Jean picked up the photo and held it in front of Lillian. “Momma, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I need for you to look at this photo. We think this is Angel. You tried to protect her.”

  Lillian continued to stare out the window with a blank expression.

  “Is that her? Is that Angel?” Jean leaned back in the rocker, rocking gently, and closed her eyes. She was tired and soon drifted into a light sleep. She didn’t know how long she had been napping when she became aware of a noise, or a hum of some kind. And then she felt someone touch her hand. Remembering where she was, Jean opened her eyes slightly and saw Lillian’s hand resting on hers. Her mother was humming a nursery rhyme Jean had not heard in a very long time.

  “Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.”

  Jean put her hand on her mother’s and squeezed it slightly. The humming continued.

  “And if that mockingbird won’t sing, Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring,” Jean sang softly. She turned her head slightly toward Lillian. “Momma, do you remember singing that to me when I was a little girl?”

  The slight smile on Lillian’s face lit up her face, but she remained silent. Jean noticed that Lillian was holding the photo in her other hand. “Is that Angel, Momma? Who was trying to hurt her?”

  The smile faded from Lillian’s face, and she slipped back into the in-between world where she lived. In that place, she was not quite dead, but not quite alive either.

  Jean kissed her mother on the cheek. “I’ll see about getting you moved closer to me in Memphis. Would you like that?” She didn’t expect a response. “I’m going now, but I’ll be back in a couple days.” Jean squeezed Lillian’s hand gently. “I love you, Momma.”

  Slowly, Lillian turned her head and looked directly at Jean. Her mouth moved slightly, but no sound came out.

  “It’s okay. I know you’re trying to say you love me, too.”

  CHAPTER 55

  Jack was right. Enid needed to let Josh know Phyllis had identified the reconstruction as Angel. Enid had left several messages for Josh, saying that she wanted to meet with him and had new information. While waiting on Josh to call back, she did some research on squatters. In South Carolina, a squatter can claim property after openly being on the land and treating it as his own for ten years. Enid made a note to check the tax records on the 7 Crows Farm. If no one had been living there, perhaps the man who shot Boogie and his blonde companion had decided just to take up residence.

  On her laptop screen, a news announcement popped up. “Male suspect in Bowman sheriff’s murder shot during a traffic stop.” When she clicked on the news link, a photo of the suspect appeared. The man appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Somehow, she had assumed he would be older. She clicked on the local news’ website to look for additional information and found the man’s identity. His name was Fred Peterson, and he had a long history of legal troubles. The next line caught her attention. Peterson lived on his family’s farm in Bowman County.

  So, perhaps Peterson wasn’t a squatter. Enid flipped through her notes. She didn’t have the blonde woman’s last name anywhere. She called Ginger and left a message. “I need for you to check something for me stat. What’s the last name of the blonde that was arrested in Sheriff Waters’ murder? Her first name is Darla. I need it right now.”

  Enid continued to check other stations for news of Peterson’s shooting, when Ginger burst into her office. “I got it,” she announced. “I got her name.”

  After a few seconds, Enid asked, “Well? What is it?”
/>
  “Darla Smith, that’s her name,” Ginger said.

  “Good work. Thanks.”

  Ginger turned on her heels and walked out of the office. Enid stared at the names she had written on her notepad. Fred Peterson and Darla Smith.

  Enid called Jean. “Hi, sorry to bother you . . .” She could hear Jean sniffling. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, just thinking about my mother.”

  “This is probably not a good time to bother you, but the guy suspected of shooting your father has been shot. I don’t know if he’s alive. His name is Fred Peterson. Does that sound familiar?”

  There were a few seconds of silence before Jean responded. “I’m not sure, honestly.”

  “What about Darla Smith?”

  “Darla. Darla.” Jean repeated the name. “I remember something about that name.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, I just can’t remember.”

  “That’s okay. Why don’t you come here to the newspaper office? I don’t want you to be alone right now, and I need to stay here.”

  “That’s kind of you to offer, but I’m okay. I’m just going to check in with my office at St. Jude’s. I’ve got to get back soon, and I need to find a place near me where I can transfer my mother.”

  “Alright, but if you change your mind, I’ll be here. And I’ll let you know if I find out anything else.”

  Enid held the phone in her hand, wishing she could make Jean’s troubles go away. But Enid knew all too well Jean would have to work her way through most of these things on her own. She was searching the online Bowman County tax records when her cell rang. It was Jean again. “Hey, did you change your mind? Maybe I can get free for lunch.”

  “I just got a call from the nursing home. My mother died.”

  CHAPTER 56

  Unlike Sheriff Bernard Waters’ memorial service that was attended by hundreds of mourners, Lillian Waters’ funeral was a small, simple affair. Other than Jean, Enid, Theo, Phyllis, and Jack, the only other attendees were Lillian’s nurse and a nursing assistant from the center where Lillian had lived out her final days.

  The minister who had performed Boogie’s memorial service had agreed to say a few words and read a couple verses of scripture. Jean managed to find a photo of Lillian and had it enlarged. But the photo had been taken years ago and it was grainy. It was a poor likeness of the woman Jean had visited just prior to her death.

  Lillian’s photo stood on a small easel on a table next to a hand-blown glass urn. Jean had frantically searched online for something befitting, but it was Phyllis who found the perfect vessel, made by an artist she found on Facebook. In the Chihuly-glass style, the urn was colorful but elegant. Purple and royal blue, punctuated by red and deep yellow, encircled a single, black swirl of glass. When Jean saw it, she immediately thought it looked like Lillian reaching for the heavens, surrounded by a field of flowers. It was perfect. Jean contacted the artist, who agreed to ship it overnight.

  After the minister’s brief comments, Jean stood at the front of the church sanctuary to speak. “Today, my mother will lie down with her husband, my father, in their final resting place. Being together was a luxury they were denied in life.” Her words echoed in the nearly empty space, and Jean stopped to dab a tissue at her eyes. “For years, I resented my parents for sending me away. Now, I know they did what they thought was best for me, their only child. I longed for memories of family picnics and carols around the Christmas tree, but a Hallmark life wasn’t in the stars for me or for them. But what I did get was two loving, devoted parents, who put their own personal desires aside to ensure that I had the best life possible. My father was a good man who knew that love is not defined by skin color. Until he was taken away from us, he was devoted to my amazing mother. She may have had dementia, but she knew when he had left this earth and that it was time to join him. They are together now, inseparable forever.”

  When the service ended, Jack carried the urn out the church and down the path that led to the cemetery behind the white-sided building. The church bells tolled four times, the specific number requested to symbolize the four directions of the earth and the four seasons. At least that’s what Jean told the minister. The real significance of the number came from Karla, who had identified Jean’s four friends—Enid, Jack, Cade, and Josh—as warriors who sought the truth so that her parents’ spirits could be at peace. One bell toll for each warrior.

  Jean linked her arm through Theo’s, as the small procession followed Jack and the minister to Lillian’s grave. A slight movement caught Jean’s eye, and she looked toward a large oak tree at the edge of the cemetery. Jean smiled at the woman dressed in a long, colorful skirt standing beside the tree. Before she turned and walked away, Karla smiled back and nodded to Jean.

  CHAPTER 57

  For the next few days, all the news stations carried the story of Fred Peterson’s shooting. He was alive, but in critical condition. The next edition of the Tri-County Gazette would be coming out in a few days, so Enid gathered facts for her story. But after an hour of phone calls, she still had scant information. The shooting had occurred in Anderson County, not far from the Georgia state line. Peterson was likely trying to get out of the state when he was stopped for an expired license plate. Fred was weak and suffering from the wound Jean had inflicted on him, but he tried to pull a knife on the highway patrolman and was shot.

  According to the tax records, the 7 Crows Farm was owned by an out-of-state developer who had purchased it from the bank after foreclosure. Plans to develop the land had been put on hold, so the property had been vacant for years. The previous owner had been Clyde Randolph Peterson. Enid also found that Peterson had two children: Fred and Angelina.

  And who was Darla? Enid made several phone calls but was unable to find out anything other than what had already been reported. Josh probably had more information, but she didn’t want to put him in an awkward situation, so she would find the information another way. Enid eyed her cell phone and hesitated before hitting a familiar number in her favorites. The phone rang only once before a male voice answered.

  “Enid, is that you?”

  “Hi, Cade. How are you?”

  “Speechless, mostly. I’m surprised you called. Are you alright?”

  “Everything is fine, but I do need your help. Can you use your contacts to get some information on a shooting down here? By the way, where are you?” Enid asked.

  “I’m at LAX, trying to get out of here. I hate this place. Give me what you have and what you need. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Enid filled Cade in on the shooting but left out the possible connection to the bones at the inn. “I appreciate anything you can find for me.”

  “Feels like old times. You and me, side by side, trying to find the truth.”

  “We’re on opposite coasts.”

  “True, but that’s a small point. I’ll be back in touch.”

  ◆◆◆

  Jean was watching the news, and each time Fred Peterson’s image filled the TV screen, she stared at it. Not out of hatred, but out of curiosity. The anger would come later. For now, she just wanted to know why this man had killed her father. If he died, she might never know.

  The phone rang, and a woman spoke. “Dr. Waters, I’m sorry to bother you in these troubling times. We were all very fond of Miss Lillian here at the EverLife Center, and we’re so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Jean said.

  “Being a doctor, you probably know there’s a serious shortage of memory care beds available in the state. We have a long waiting list.” The woman paused. “We can put your mother’s belonging in storage until you can pick them up, but we need to clear her room right away.”

  “I had planned on coming tomorrow, but I can come later today.”

  Jean then called Enid. “I hate to ask, but do you think Jack can help me with Lillian’s belongings? I know the rocker is hers, but I don’t know what else. I’m going to need his pickup.”

  “If he can’t go
, I’ll borrow his truck. We can get someone there to help with the heavy items. When do you want to go?”

  “I have to get there this afternoon. They said they’d put her stuff in storage, but . . .” She paused. “I’d rather not have strangers going through her things.”

  Enid glanced at the stack of notes, phone messages, and files on her desk. “Either Jack or I will be over soon.”

  ◆◆◆

  About two hours later, Jean and Enid arrived at the nursing home in Jack’s pickup. Enid pulled into a parking space near the loading area.

  They walked inside, and Jean located Lillian’s nurse. “I talked to you earlier. We’re here to get Lillian Waters’ things.”

  “I apologize again for rushing you. It’s just that—”

  “Don’t worry,” Jean interrupted. “It’s fine.”

  “Follow me.” The nurse began walking down the hallway. “There are some items, you know, clothing and things, in her room. But we also have several boxes of things in our storage area. The facility provides a small storage space for each patient, in case the family wants to keep certain things nearby. It’s a nice benefit that other nursing homes don’t often provide.”

  Jean looked around the room Lillian had died in. The bed linens had been stripped and the drapes pushed completely open. Harsh sunlight filled the room, revealing a few worn spots in the carpet and a thin layer of dust on the dresser.

  “I know it looks so empty now. That’s what everyone says. Humans have a spirit, you know, and when they go, it goes. That’s why the room feels that way.” The nurse opened the closet door and pointed to a large shelf at the top. “She’s got some things up there. I can get you a step stool so you can reach it. And she’s got clothes here and in the drawers.”

  “I know the rocker is hers. What about the rest of the furniture?”