Chapter 31 #2
With the discovery of her daughter’s body, Rachel Appleton’s life had ended. It didn’t matter that she had two sons. Her daughter had been her entire existence.
Sarah ached for her, sensed with every fiber of her being that this tragedy could have been prevented somehow.
This woman, a mother who loved so much, gave so much, had lost a child.
Sarah had not known a mother like that. Maybe she ached in part for what she’d never had .
. . for what Rachel Appleton would miss.
When the service ended, a few stayed behind to talk, the rest filtered out. There would be refreshments and grief counseling available at the high school auditorium.
It wasn’t until Sarah stood outside again that she noticed Lex August. He must have been with the crowd at the back of the sanctuary.
She could have cared less if she’d ever seen him again in this lifetime, except she wanted an update. She didn’t care where it came from as long as it was accurate.
“How did your interviews go?” She walked right into his personal space, toe to toe.
There had been a time when she would have admired how he looked in a suit, as she had Conner. But not anymore. Because she knew all too well that behind that handsome face and well-maintained physique beat the meager heart of a complete prick.
He adopted that fake smile that seemed to work on everyone else. “Well enough for preliminary groundwork.”
Code for: I didn’t get shit.
“No new evidence?” She shouldn’t get any glee from the idea that he’d already been here over twenty-four hours and hadn’t learned anything new—other than what the killer allowed him to find.
But she did.
“Not yet.” He adjusted the knot of his tie. “We’re still waiting for the final test results and the full-on autopsy report.”
“No briefing today?”
He glanced right, then leveled his gaze on hers. “Not today.”
Lie.
“Really?” She frowned. “At a dead end already?”
Those blue eyes she’d once thought were so gorgeous tapered. “When we have something, you’ll get it, Sarah. Don’t be a bitch.”
Such a turnabout from yesterday. Split personality, maybe? What had she ever seen in him?
She smiled, enjoying every damned minute of this. “Me? A bitch? Never.”
Walking away felt good.
Damned good.
Conner glanced up as he closed the side door of the minivan and smiled at her. Perfect white teeth. Truly beautiful eyes and so damned handsome.
“Sarah!”
Her attention turning to the sound of her name, Sarah spotted Polly running toward her and waited.
“Hurry up, Pol,” Conner said. “Mom’s waiting.”
Polly practically bowled Sarah over, cupped her hand over her ear, and whispered, “Look over by the picnic tables.”
Sarah’s gaze went instantly to the row of white picnic tables under the trees beyond the parking lot.
Matilda Calder lingered there.
“She didn’t come inside,” Polly said secretively. “She thinks nobody likes her.” Polly shrugged. “She is kind of weird, but I like her. I guess I’m her only friend.”
“Thanks, Polly.” Sarah patted the hand clamped on her arm. “You’d better go. Your mom’s waiting.”
“Polly!” her mother called on cue.
Conner’s sister rushed to the minivan, and Sarah headed for the picnic tables.
She worried that Matilda would make a run for it, but she didn’t.
She waited, wearing the usual ragged getup, with a cigarette dangling from one hand.
Sarah really should buy the girl some clothes.
Give her some money for clothes and food, at least. After visiting the house on West Street, Sarah was pretty sure Matilda wasn’t getting nearly enough of either. A stop at an ATM would handle that.
“Hey.” Sarah’s lips stretched wide without prompting.
“You wear it all the time?” Matilda looked at the leather necklace before meeting Sarah’s gaze.
Sarah touched the medallion where it rested between her breasts. It fell just beneath the scooped neck of her one black dress. “I do.”
“Good.” Matilda tossed her cigarette to the ground, uncaring that anyone who saw her would consider the move sacrilegious.
“I went to your house yesterday.” Sarah noted again the dark circles under the girl’s eyes. Did she have trouble sleeping, too? Judging by the place she lived, probably.
“I know.”
“Your mom told you?”
She shook her head, stared past Sarah. “I saw you there.”
Sarah glanced back to see what she was looking at. Conner waited near Sarah’s car. “Why did you hide from me?”
Matilda cut her eyes toward Conner again. “He was with you.”
Sarah folded her arms. “Oh, yeah?”
Matilda nodded.
“You don’t like him?”
She shrugged. “His family doesn’t like me.”
“They don’t know you,” Sarah argued. “There’s a difference.”
“I just came to make sure you were wearing the necklace.” Matilda took a step back. “I gotta go.”
“Matilda, wait. I need to ask you a question.” Sarah held very still, no matter that she wanted to advance that extra step yawning between them.
“I can’t answer it.”
Sarah inclined her head. “You don’t know the question yet.”
“Ask.”
“When you say the devil has always been here and the cops can’t catch him, are you talking about the devil or the person who killed Valerie and Alicia?” She purposely didn’t mention Pope’s name.
Matilda didn’t answer, didn’t move for a moment, then she said, “They’re the same, aren’t they?”
Sarah’s heart thudded hard. “Are they?”
Matilda didn’t answer, just stared at Sarah.
“Do you know him?” Sarah’s pulse jumped.
“Everyone knows him.” Matilda backed up another step. “They just don’t realize it yet. Like you.”
“Then help me. You said he was rich.”
She glanced past Sarah again.
“Just give me a name,” Sarah urged. “If you think you know—”
“He’s watching me.” She suddenly advanced those two steps she’d retreated. She went nose to nose with Sarah. “He’s watching you, too.”
“You’re saying it’s Pope?”
Matilda shook her head, looked confused. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m confusing all the talk and what I feel.” She banged her hand against her chest. “But I can feel the evil the same as I can see you.” She searched Sarah’s eyes. “You feel it, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Sarah recognized the feeling for what it was. She’d sensed something here . . . someone here. “I feel it.”
“Then find him. I keep dreaming about the ocean. I think it fuels him. Makes him feel powerful. That’s why he can’t leave. He needs to be here.” She looked past Sarah again, her eyes went wide. “I have to go—”
Sarah looked back at the parking lot’s dispersing crowd. “I want to—” She turned back to Matilda.
She was gone.
Sarah’s heart hammered. Matilda was scared as hell. She was definitely confused. But her instincts were humming.
Just as Sarah’s were.
But she needed more than the ramblings, however heartfelt, of a teenager before casting suspicion on a man like Pope.
“You want to go have coffee?”
At the sound of Conner’s voice, Sarah wheeled in that direction.
Irrationally, her frustration heightened. “I’m not in the mood for crowds.”
“Who said anything about a crowd?” He searched her eyes, his saying all that needed to be said.
Sarah’s attention shifted to the last of the people drifting aimlessly down the church steps.
The Popes climbed into their regal Infiniti. Jerri Lynn hugged Tamara, then dashed over to join her family.
Rachel Appleton, her husband, and two sons drifted into Sarah’s line of sight.
Rachel turned, and for one fleeting instant she looked directly at Sarah. That ache Sarah couldn’t seem to banish swelled. She watched the family walk to the waiting car and settle in. The car drove away.
Sarah blinked, then blinked again, severing the painful bond. “Yes,” she said to Conner. Determination and undeniable desperation bursting inside her. “We’ll go to your place. We’ll have coffee and then we’ll have sex.”
When she would have turned to her car, he snagged her elbow, drew her close. “We’ll go to my place. Have coffee . . .” He put his face close to hers. “And we’ll make love.”
She pulled free of his hold and stalked to her car without looking back.
Didn’t have to.
He would be right behind her.
He could call it whatever he wanted. Sarah would fortify herself with what Conner had to offer and then, by God, she would find the killer.
For Valerie and Alicia and their families.
For Matilda.
They barely got inside the door of his house before she was tearing his clothes off.
Sarah couldn’t explain it. Didn’t try.
Thinking was out of the question right now.
She needed to feel.
Between their frantic kisses, he muttered, “Down, Angie.”
The dog had reared up to greet her master.
She slinked off to the rug in front of the couch.
“Sorry,” he muttered to Sarah.
She didn’t care. She dragged him toward the bedroom.
She hadn’t been in there before but she knew the way.
The rest of his clothes hit the floor by the time they reached the bed.
He peeled off her dress, unsnapped her bra, and lifted her onto the bed. She couldn’t get enough of his taste . . . of the feel of his skin. Her panties skimmed her legs, caught on her sneakers. She toed them off. Kicked free of the panties.
He burrowed between her legs and she sighed.
Fear trickled past the other sensations as she realized a cold, hard fact. Here . . . now . . . with him . . . she felt right.
She felt safe.
Not smart, Sarah. So not smart.
Wednesday, March 4, 2:30 a.m.
The telephone clanged.
Sarah was dreaming. Sweet, hot dreams.
Her lips parted, lifted.
Skilled hands moved over her skin. Seeking lips tugged at hers.
Conner . . .
Another long, loud clang.
The dream faded. The arms holding her released her. The hot, hard body spooning hers rolled away.
“Hello.”
Her eyes drifted open at the rough, sexy sound of his voice.
Conner. She was with him . . . in his bed.
Sex. Hot. Frantic. Life-reaffirming.
She was safe. With him. Her stomach knotted with uncertainty. If she got in any deeper—
“What?”
Conner rose up, dropped his feet to the floor. “When?”
Sarah pushed the hair out of her eyes as she sat up. She studied his rigid profile. What the hell had happened now?
“I’ll be right there.” He placed the handset back into its cradle. Sat stone still.
“What’s wrong?” Adrenaline cleared the last of the sleep from her head.
As if her question had reanimated him, he jumped up, groped for his trousers. “It’s Polly. She didn’t come home.”
“Wait.” Sarah scooted off the bed, her pulse scrambling. “Where’d she go?”
“With the other kids to the auditorium.”
Sarah pulled the dress over her head, yanked it down her hips. “And?” she demanded as she tugged on her panties and then her shoes. Please, no. Not Polly.
He stopped buttoning buttons. Stared at her. Terror in his dark eyes. “No one’s seen her since.”