Chapter Twenty-Four
Wade was in a dark mood on Monday morning.
He’d awoken alone, without Meredith in bed beside him. A quick search of the house revealed that she wasn’t in her bed, either. She’d fled like a thief in the night, leaving only a cryptic note in her wake.
I’m sorry love M
It only took those three words to destroy him. Or maybe, just the one. Did she have to rip out his heart by adding love? Was it just a throwaway close for an awkward goodbye note, or was she actually saying that she loved him?
Wade wasn’t sure it mattered; she was gone.
His mother didn’t shed much light on the subject. When he burst into her room to question her, she was in a deep sleep, her eyes covered in a silk mask.
“Where’s Meredith?”
“Hmm?”
“Where. Is. Meredith?”
She pushed the eye mask up, puzzled. “Who is Meredith?”
“Mary,” he said. “Where is Mary?”
“Oh,” she said, and put the mask back on. “She went to Kansas. Family emergency. Is that her real name?”
“When did she leave?”
“Last night.”
“How?”
“Hmm?”
“How did she leave?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled into her pillow. “Maybe she bought that truck she was looking for.”
Wade couldn’t believe she’d bought that goddamned truck without telling him. Where had she parked it? Why hadn’t he asked her about it? He felt like a fool. A lovestruck fool, trusting a woman who’d proven to be a liar.
“Where in Kansas?” he asked.
“How should I know?”
Wade left his mother’s room and ventured outside again.
He found King and Daisy in the dog run, so he opened the gate.
Daisy brought the tennis ball, ears perked in anticipation.
King sat like a sentry at the edge of the driveway, as if waiting for Meredith to return.
Wade kicked the ball into the bushes, making a cloud of dust. She wouldn’t have left the dogs behind if she wasn’t coming back.
Would she?
He wasn’t certain, because the circumstances were so murky.
She hadn’t been in contact with her family for years.
If she’d gone to see them, she was taking a huge risk.
Maybe that was another lie, and she’d actually fled to Mexico.
The hours they’d spent in bed together seemed cheap and false now.
While he’d been worshipping her body, she’d been counting down the minutes until she could leave without being followed.
He drove to work in a red haze, with his jaw clenched and a tension headache forming behind his eyes. Wherever she’d gone, whatever she’d done, she’d chosen to do it without him. That was incredibly disheartening.
He parked at the Lost Lake Sheriff’s Department and strode inside. Jackson and the dispatch officer were at the front desk, chatting about some celebrity, but Wade wasn’t interested in pop culture gossip. He went straight into his office and checked for a message from forensics.
Nothing.
He wanted to compare the forensic sketch to the yearbook photograph of Cameron Pickett. Instead, he opened an email attachment from the alumni association of Texas A&M. He studied the list of students from 1988. Pickett was on it. He didn’t return in 1989 or 1990. The evidence was compelling.
Sheriff Nava rapped his knuckles on the open door. “Come to my office,” he said.
“Right now?” Wade asked.
“Right now.”
Shoving away from his desk, Wade followed Nava across the hall to his office. Nava closed the door behind him and gestured for Wade to sit down.
“What’s up?”
Nava settled into his chair, leaning back a little. “How’s your John Doe coming along?”
Wade stifled the urge to pull his uniform collar away from his neck. Something told him not to offer specifics. He wanted to see the forensic sketch and speak to Cordelia Pickett. “I haven’t had much time to look into it.”
“Any new leads?”
“Nothing concrete.”
Nava made a huffing sound. “It’s been brought to my attention that you put in a request for a forensic sketch.”
Wade frowned. “Is that a problem?”
“It’s not how we do things,” Nava said with a tight smile. “When you need resources, you ask me first. Every expenditure goes through me. If I give my approval, your request moves forward.”
“Would you have approved it?”
“That’s not the point. There’s a chain of command, just like there was in Last Chance. Maybe your father gave you free rein—”
“He didn’t,” Wade interrupted.
“Then you know the proper channels.”
Wade struggled for a diplomatic response and came up empty.
Nava leaned forward and pressed his palms together, prayer-style. “I have serious concerns about the way you’re handling the investigation.”
Wade couldn’t hide his surprise. He hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. “I’m getting reprimanded for making a common request that could solve a missing person case, at minimal cost to the department?”
“There’s something else,” Nava admitted.
“What?”
Nava hesitated, as if reluctant to broach the subject.
“This is bullshit,” Wade said. “If you’re going to question my professionalism, you need to state your reasons.”
Nava leveled with him. “Okay, hotshot. Rumor has it that you’ve been playing Nancy Drew with your girlfriend in your free time.”
Wade felt the blood drain from his face.
Failing to ask Nava before he put in a request wasn’t a big deal.
Meredith’s involvement presented a real problem.
She shouldn’t have gone with him to the crime scene or done research at the library.
She’d found the name Cameron Pickett on her own, but she shouldn’t have access to that kind of information.
She’d even helped him look for a murder weapon.
Christ.
The fact that Meredith had been living in Lost Lake under a false name, and had currently fled the town for parts unknown, made the situation even more precarious.
Wade schooled his features into a placid mask. He reminded himself that Nava had given him other responsibilities, perhaps deliberately, to prevent him from investigating the cold case on the clock. This felt like a setup, or a trap to fall into. His instincts warned him not to say too much.
“I understand your concerns,” he said, his voice calm. “And I will keep you informed, moving forward. I’d be happy to make this investigation a higher priority and work on it during my regular hours. If you could clear my schedule…”
“I’m taking you off the case,” Nava said. “Does that clear your schedule?”
Shock and anger suffused him. Maybe he deserved the verbal reprimand, but this was going too far. Having the case removed from his workload without a formal write-up was unfair. “I don’t agree with this decision.”
“Noted,” Nava said. “I need you to gather your evidence and paperwork and prepare a written report. I expect it on my desk by noon.”
Wade couldn’t refuse a direct order from his superior.
He could file a complaint, but that was a risky move in a new department.
It wasn’t wise to make waves. What he could do was fight dirty, like his dad.
In Last Chance, he’d learned how to circumvent authority.
Nava wasn’t the only chess player in the room.
With a respectful nod, Wade stood up and walked out.
He wrote a quick report, his fingers flying over the keyboard, and didn’t include a single reference to Cameron Pickett.
Wade wasn’t going to wrap it in a neat bow after he’d done all the legwork.
He wasn’t going to change his plans for the day, either.
He gathered his files into a manila envelope, along with the class ring.
When he returned to Nava’s office, the sheriff wasn’t at his desk.
Wade left the package behind and went to lunch.
He wondered if Nava would consider letting him partner with Jackson on the case, instead of taking him off it completely. Jackson would benefit from investigative experience, and Wade could solve the damned thing like he wanted.
Feeling slightly more optimistic, he turned on the radio as he entered a drive-through restaurant.
Soft petal skin, and those hazel eyes,
She drew me in, yeah, she told me lies.
Poison rose, poison rose.
He shut it off, grumbling under his breath. Now that song would be in his head all day. He ordered lunch and drove to Hill County Hospital to chat with Cordelia Pickett about her long-lost grandson.
The receptionist at the front desk gave him a slow once-over and wrote down the room number on a Post-it note. “My name’s Audrey,” she said with a wink. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I’ll do that,” Wade said, and escaped into the elevator.
He found the room at the end of a long hallway, but it was empty. A middle-aged woman sat in the chair outside. She took a tissue out of her oversized purse to dab her eyes.
“I’m looking for Cordelia Pickett,” he said to the woman. “Is this her room?”
She blinked up at him. “Cameron?”
“Excuse me?”
After giving him a closer study, she inhaled a shaky breath. “Never mind. I thought you were someone else.”
“Do you know Cordelia?”
“I’m her granddaughter. She just passed.”
Wade offered his condolences and sat down next to her. “I’m Deputy Sheriff Hendricks.”
“Janice Johnson,” she replied.
She had faded blond hair and a careworn face. She seemed confused and unsettled by his appearance.
“I visited Cordelia the day after the tornado,” Wade said. “She wasn’t feeling well, and she mistook me for her grandson.”
“I can see why. You look exactly like my brother, Cameron. It’s uncanny.”
“What happened to him?”
Janice shrugged. “We don’t know. He ran off a long time ago. Got expelled from A&M his freshman year, and … couldn’t face the music, I reckon.”
“Did anyone report him missing?”
“No. He was grown.”
“What did he get expelled for?”
“He never said.”
Wade took out his notebook. “Do you know if he argued with someone before he disappeared?”
“Why are you asking that?”
“I’m investigating a cold case.”
“You think he was involved in a crime?”
Wade didn’t answer. “Do you remember the names of anyone he interacted with? His friends, enemies, coworkers?”