Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
I slept like the dead and, when I woke, I was surprised to find that Saturday was non-eventful, after all of the chaos and confusion from last night.
I even managed an afternoon horse ride to the backside of the property, which looked much as it had this past summer except for the shedding trees and the lack of wildflowers around the gate.
As I clicked and shifted my weight to signal that we would be trotting around the perimeter of the original homestead, I allowed myself to think about anything other than the wedding, and immediately my mind turned to the decision I had to make about where I would live in just a few months. San Diego, Aubergine, or elsewhere.
Moving to the West Coast would allow me to work with a greater variety of animals, including those being cared for at the famous San Diego Zoo.
I would learn complicated procedures, and I would become one of the few vets in the country with these specialties.
Even after San Diego, I would be called all over the country, getting the opportunity to travel.
It was not an opportunity to be shrugged off.
On the other hand, thanks to my newly acquired status as heiress, I had enough money—and, according to Savilla, a built-in location in the Carriage House at The Rose—to set up a practice in these mountains I loved.
I gazed up at those high peaks, cutting into the gray sky.
The morning fog that created the blue tinges for which these mountains were named had already melted away, and in the bleak start of a snowless winter, the leaves were more rust-red and murky brown after a long autumn of color.
The thin branches on the periphery of my vision appeared ready to snap with the slightest tug.
Even still, this place felt like it belonged to me, like I could tuck the panorama in the recesses of my mind, returning here from anywhere in an instant.
I spotted two Carolina chickadees, their black-and-white faces distinct against the evergreen.
One tiptoed to the edge of the branch and angled itself to hang upside down as it went after its meal.
The pair reminded me of my genetic connection to a creature with the courage to step onto the stage of life and take a chance.
Savilla, the sister I never knew I wanted, had become a fixture of my day, and now just thinking about her lugging Baby Ollie around from venue to venue made me smile.
A year ago, I would’ve never guessed that she would be part of my consideration for returning home.
The light was already fading, and I patted my horse’s neck before tugging on the reins to send us back in the direction of The Rose—which was weirdly taking on the designation of “home” in my mind.
I went to the rehearsal dinner, where, despite the revelations of last night, I sensed that temperaments and behaviors might be calming. Sure, Anton’s family would eventually need to account for their misdeeds, but perhaps the rest of the weekend would pass uneventfully.
I had tried to keep a positive state of mind throughout the evening, which was part of the reason it was so jarring to stand in the holly bushes, staring down at the body of Todd Anderson.
Based on the notes we’d read in the Salon last night, Todd was supposed to be the one committing murder—not that anyone wanted that either.
Still, he wasn’t supposed to be a victim, and my boyfriend wasn’t supposed to be a suspect.
I stared at Charlie wide-eyed as I held up the thin strip of paper with the words blame Charlie scribbled on them. “What does this note mean?”
The top edge was torn along its length, as if it had been ripped out of a jotter.
The top edge was torn along its length as if it had been ripped out. I recognized the handwriting from the short missives we’d seen last night on Anton’s phone.
Charlie put up both hands. “I have no idea. I’d never even met the priest before this weekend.”
I knew he was telling the truth. None of us knew the man, except for those who’d traveled from Swanson, Texas, to Aubergine, Virginia, for the wedding of the century.
I tried a different tack, blinking against the water at the corners of my eyes that was on the verge of freezing. “Any ideas about who might’ve been sneaking onto the property?”
“I didn’t find anyone or any sign of breaking and entering.”
I studied him for a few seconds longer. This was Charlie, my Charlie, as I’d come to think of him in the past month as our relationship had shifted.
Though I couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact moment things had changed between us, I was pretty sure it had something to do with Thanksgiving Day, when he’d spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen with Aunt DeeDee, slicing and boiling and mashing potatoes to make his mother’s recipe for garlic ranch twice-baked potatoes.
Then, he’d asked my aunt to teach him how to mix and roll out the perfect pie crust. Savilla and I had been in and out of the kitchen, running to the store to pick up an ingredient they’d forgotten, hurrying to take out the overflowing trash can, and being on standby to wash mixing bowls they would need for the next recipe.
I could tell that Aunt DeeDee was loving the day as much as Charlie, whose kitchen prowess wasn’t exactly a surprise—he’d effortlessly fixed many a dinner for us when he’d traveled back and forth for visits—and definitely something I appreciated about him.
In the past, I’d invited guys home to meet Aunt DeeDee and Momma, but always informally and never for a special occasion.
It had felt like second nature to extend the Thanksgiving dinner invite to Charlie though, especially since his parents were basking in their retirement years and traveling for the holiday.
As the four of us had sat around the table that evening, laughing and enjoying the food, I’d looked over at my boyfriend and suddenly realized how much Momma would’ve liked him, would’ve appreciated the way he blended so easily into our family, like a jigsaw puzzle piece that fit just right.
That night, I’d had the feeling that I would be happy spending the rest of my holidays sitting across the table from Charlie Strong.
Now, on this cold winter night with a dead man at my feet and my sheriff boyfriend the most obvious suspect, I forced myself to take the lead, steeling myself for the reality that Charlie might be taken off the case at any moment.
I went into go-mode, dividing up duties. I sent Savilla inside to find a sheet to cover the body from further snowfall, and I told Charlie to call Deputy Wright to the scene while I phoned for an ambulance—a strange task when I knew that the person was already dead.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Um, I found a body,” I said into the phone.
The responder didn’t miss a beat. “What’s your location?”
“The Rose Palace, front of the house.” I didn’t have to explain. In a map search, the estate came up right away as both a business and a residence; besides, anyone within a hundred miles knew about our house.
“A team is on the way,” the responder said, her voice steady. “Is the person conscious?”
“No,” I breathed into the phone.
“Male or female?”
“A man,” I clarified, before beginning to ramble. “He is—or was—supposed to officiate my friend’s wedding. I was picking up a case of wine for the rehearsal dinner and found him in the bushes. He was shot and then he fell or—”
I almost said “was pushed”, though I knew that couldn’t be the case because Charlie was the only one who’d for sure been in the room with him. Charlie didn’t push him. That was impossible.
I held the note in my hand, the one that said those terrible two words: blame Charlie.
But blame him for what? Charlie was the one who solved crimes, not committed them.
I also knew that I didn’t need to explain all of this to the emergency responder, but I couldn’t help myself.
The words were pouring out like a rushing stream.
“My boyfriend is here at the house. He’s the sheriff, and he heard the man in his room and went inside, but please don’t think that he had anything to do with…” My mind trailed off, not quite knowing where to go from there. It wasn’t like the responder was going to arrest the local sheriff.
“What’s your name?” the woman on the other end of the line asked me, trying to bring me back to some semblance of rational thinking.
“Dakota,” I answered. “Dakota Green.”
“All right, Dakota. I’m going to stay on the call with you until the ambulance arrives. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
Tears sprang to my eyes and the back of my throat clenched. I nodded, unable to speak.
“Are you still with me?”
I coughed back a cry. “I’m here.”
“Good. You’re doing a great job.” The responder paused for a beat as if listening to the other end of a conversation. “The ambulance is about seven minutes away. You just stay near the body, but don’t touch anything, okay?”
I didn’t have the energy to explain that I’d already put my hands on Todd’s throat to check the pulse, and I’d already rifled through his pockets. I supposed that the investigators would see as much, but at least I would have an explanation. Kind of.
Minutes passed, and I remained on the phone, occasionally letting the woman know I was still there and I wasn’t further disturbing what was likely a crime scene.
Charlie had already hung up with Deputy Wright and was sitting on the stone steps, wearing an expression of disbelief at the situation in which he’d found himself.
He didn’t have to tell me that he knew how this looked.
No one else had been in Todd’s room when Charlie burst inside earlier and there was a note blaming Charlie for God knew what, both of which made my boyfriend appear guilty.
Unless we found evidence of another person nearby or the actual gun that had seemingly killed the man with one shot, this didn’t look good for Charlie.
“Is Jill on her way?” I asked, referring to his deputy, the second-in-command.
Charlie nodded but couldn’t speak. Thankfully, he didn’t have to because just then the medics arrived, immediately springing into action.
They prepared to resuscitate, but as soon as they lifted the sheet Savilla had lain over the man, they knew it was too late.
Still, the head medic and his team assessed the body for several minutes, examining the pupils, recording the skin color, and eventually determining that Reverend Todd Anderson was indeed dead.
He estimated the time of death as very recent, perhaps a half-hour to an hour ago, which matched my arrival on the scene, as well as Charlie’s account.
It took all of ten minutes, and we looked on, wishing they could do something to revive the man.
“How did you find him?” the head medic finally asked Savilla, once they’d finished. She motioned for me to answer.
“I was going into the house when I spotted something in the bushes,” I said. “It took me a second to realize it was… a body.”
“He was shot and then fell from the balcony,” Charlie said, pointing to Todd’s room. The railing was still intact. “I was in his room… after.”
The medic looked up and nodded once. “Law enforcement will be up there soon, I’m sure.” His eyes flitted back to Charlie, who was well known around these parts. The man seemed confused as to why Charlie wasn’t already on the case, but he didn’t ask any further questions.
When Jill arrived, she brushed past me, immediately pulling Charlie aside to question him.
I wanted to listen, but I knew it was more important that I reach out to Lacy to let her know what was happening—as gently as possible.
I considered calling her directly but then thought of an alternative.
I could let Aunt DeeDee know, and she could relay the news in person at the end of the rehearsal dinner, before everyone headed back to The Rose.
This weekend had been anxiety-inducing enough for Lacy.
She didn’t need a call out of the blue saying that we wouldn’t be returning with the wine because of a dead man.
The phone rang three times before Aunt DeeDee picked up on the other end. “Dakota, you okay?” Her voice was filled with worry, almost as if she had a sense of foreboding.
“I’m fine, or, maybe, I don’t know,” I said haltingly. The clatter of cups and plates and voices at the rehearsal dinner was coming over the line. “Can you go somewhere quiet for a second? I need to tell you something.”
“Sure.” A few moments later and the background noise had quieted as Aunt DeeDee came back on the line. “What’s going on?”
I gave her a quick rundown of events: the dead priest, Charlie knocking down the door to his room, and a possible intruder at The Rose who was still yet to be found.
“Oh my Lord,” Aunt DeeDee said. I could almost see her clutching her pearls. “And all of this with Lacy’s wedding tomorrow.”
She didn’t have to remind me. The last twenty-four hours had been fraught, tainted particularly by the Texan side of the family.
I hated that the commonality between everything was Anton, and I hated even more that a dead body was the end result.
At this point, all I wanted for Lacy was whatever she wanted—to flee, to marry Anton in front of a justice of the peace, to pull the covers over her head and stay in bed until next New Year’s.
“I know,” I said to Aunt DeeDee now. “I’m calling you because I don’t want Lacy to hear it second-hand, and I wanted someone that she trusts to be there with her when she gets the news. This will derail her entire wedding, so she needs to hear that, one way or another, it will be okay.”
“I got you, doll.” Aunt DeeDee inhaled as if steeling herself. “I can pull her and Anton aside privately and let them know what’s happened.”
I smiled despite the situation. Aunt DeeDee would be a calm and steady presence if nothing else. “Thanks.”
“No problem, sweetheart.” I thought she was going to hang up but then she said one last thing. “You just make sure to look after you—and your man.”
“Charlie?” I asked.
“Unless you’re two-timing him, that’s the one. I saw him skedaddle out of the dinner about the time you ran off to the bathroom to have a good cry, and he seemed to have something heavy on his mind.”
Aunt DeeDee’s words of wisdom could seem at times clairvoyant—and she had been the one to suggest a fake séance to solve a murder a couple of months ago—but as far as I knew, she didn’t actually have special powers.
I shook my head in wonder. Aunt DeeDee always noticed more than she let on.
“Sometimes even our best intentions come back to bite us in the rear end,” Aunt DeeDee finished, the words cryptic enough for me to wonder if she was actually having the same concerns about Charlie’s method of investigating as me—namely, that it could put him behind bars.
“I’d best go relay the news to the intended. Talk soon, darlin’.”
“Talk soon,” I said, as the line went dead.