Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Matthias was only mildly concerned about Emma’s and Nell’s safety when Eric first told him where they’d gone. That ended when Emma failed to answer her phone.
Eric’s face blanched around his bruises. “She should’ve answered. Why wouldn’t she answer? What do we do?” His voice climbed in pitch with each additional question.
“We don’t do anything,” Matthias said more to himself than to Eric, as he found Fergusson’s number.
“What now, Honeywell?” the trooper demanded.
“Emma and her sister went over to the Jones residence and now she’s not answering her phone.”
“Why would they go there? Your girlfriend claimed she wasn’t friends with Jones’s widow.”
“She’s not, but we’ve been thinking that Ashley’s under the influence. Nell wanted to talk to her about going into rehab.”
“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”
“Maybe, but the point is that Emma could be with a killer and is not answering her phone.”
Fergusson fell silent for a few moments. When he again spoke, his tone was more serious. “I suppose you’re heading to the Jones house?”
“I am.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you there in about a half hour.”
Matthias ended the call. It wouldn’t take him nearly that long. He strode to the front door.
“I’m coming with you,” Eric insisted.
“No. You’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
Matthias spun to face him. “I need you to stay here in case they come back. You never know. Maybe they were in a dead zone for cell service. If they do show up, have Emma call me so I don’t go crashing in on Ashley and her daughter for no reason.”
Eric glowered. “Fine.”
Matthias’s phone buzzed, and Emma’s face lit the screen. He exhaled in relief. “That’s her now.” He swiped the green button and put the call on speaker. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
But instead of Emma, all he heard was Ashley’s distant voice. “You try anything else, and your sister is dead. Understand?”
As Ashley continued talking, Matthias realized that Emma had covertly called him.
And that she and Nell were in deep trouble.
“Now, where were we?” Ashley’s voice grew louder. Matthias surmised she was getting closer to the phone. And to Emma.
As Ashley poured out blame at Emma, he met Eric’s terrified gaze. “Come on,” Matthias said and led the way out the door. “You’re navigating.”
* * *
Emma’s mind spun. Ashley had killed Sonny. Had she also killed Patrick Winslow?
“He came right over,” Ashley continued. “He was so calm and steady. The exact opposite of Sonny. We made a plan. He would get rid of the body while I stayed here and cleaned up the mess. Patrick had some painter’s drop cloth in his truck, and he wrapped Sonny in it and lugged the body out to his truck.
After he drove off, I spent the next few hours bagging glass and shampooing the hell out of the rug.
When Patrick got back, he put the garbage bags in his truck.
I was still a total wreck, but he assured me everything would be fine.
He said he’d taken care of the body. He smashed Sonny’s phone and would add it and the glass to the other construction junk going to the dump.
All I had to do was stay home. When I felt it’d been a reasonable length of time, I would call the police to report Sonny as missing and then sit back and play the part of the concerned wife. ”
Ashley wasn’t looking at Emma; she wasn’t specifically looking at anything.
Emma imagined she was gazing back to Saturday night or Sunday morning.
Still, Emma didn’t take her eyes off the young widow.
Didn’t want to risk Ashley catching her checking her phone or watching the kitchen doorway for some sign of Nell.
“From what you’ve told me,” Emma said tentatively, “you were protecting yourself and Daphne. It was self-defense. Why not call 911?”
This snapped Ashley back to the present moment and her sharp glare back to Emma.
“I wasn’t taking any chances. Too many people knew about Sonny’s temper and how he treated me.
Tell me, how many women do you think are in prison because they defended themselves?
I couldn’t risk having Daphne grow up without her mommy. ”
Emma couldn’t argue the point.
Another thump came from the kitchen.
“I’m okay,” Nell called out, her voice oddly high-pitched.
What the heck had Ashley done? Was Nell tied up? Emma had to hope she was indeed “okay” and needed to keep Ashley talking. “What happened with your plan?” Emma kept her tone conversational, as if asking for a recipe. “I never could figure out why Sonny’s body was buried in such a shallow grave.”
Ashley snorted. “That’s where everything started going wrong.”
Emma could debate the actual starting point of all that went wrong, but now wasn’t the time.
“Patrick planned to bury Sonny at the construction site. Deep. But those stupid kids vandalized the heavy equipment. Put sugar in the gas tanks or something. He couldn’t get the backhoe to start.
He tried digging by hand, only it was raining so hard, and the ground kept caving in.
He ended up doing the best he could under the circumstances, with the intention of going back and doing it right as soon as the machinery was repaired. ”
“Except Fran found Sonny’s body first.”
Ashley swore. “That bitch. She messed everything up. I mean, honestly, what are the odds?”
Emma couldn’t argue with her there. “Is that when you decided to frame Eric?”
“Patrick said we needed to find someone to pin it on. Apparently Sonny’d pissed Eric off big time in front of a restaurant full of people.
Patrick overheard that he didn’t have an alibi.
It made Eric the logical choice. Patrick still had the bag of broken glass, so we decided to use it.
We picked through everything, removed the stuff that had my blood on it, and wiped down the piece I’d used to stab Sonny, leaving only his blood.
It would’ve worked, too.” Ashley’s angry gaze bored into Emma. “Except for you.”
* * *
Matthias jammed his boot nearly through the Jeep’s floor, careening through blinding rain on roads he wasn’t familiar with.
In the passenger seat, Eric braced one hand on the dash, the other clutched the grab bar, but he didn’t complain about Matthias’s driving.
Not while Ashley’s narration of Sonny’s death played via Bluetooth over the Jeep’s speakers, punctuated by Emma’s soft-voiced comments.
“Ashley’s insane,” Eric whispered.
Matthias let the statement hang. He needed to focus as much of his attention as possible on the road.
Eric pointed. “Turn right up ahead.”
“How long ’til we get there?”
“Ordinarily, I’d say fifteen minutes, but at this speed, more like ten.”
Which was still too damned long.