Sister Dear (40 page)

The community rallied around the coach's wife, taking her enough casseroles and pies for three freezers. Churches collected money for her husband's burial expenses. Someone said a light always burned in the window of their home because Coach Thomas's family had constant visitors. No one wanted to leave them alone.

Two weeks later, the coach's wife sold the house, the pharmacy business, packed up her girls, and moved away. A year later, the high school erected a memorial in his honor. That part proved the most difficult for Emma, a constant reminder of what she didn't have. Of what she could never have. Of what had been taken away.

Perhaps the cruelest blow of all—caring for her sister's child, a
bitter replacement for the baby she'd lost. And every time Emma saw her niece, it reminded her of her own losses. She would never be a wife to the man she loved. She would never carry another son or daughter. She could never have the family she wanted.

Waking up in the morning and functioning was effort enough. She lived a respectable life, cared for Caroline, helped her parents: the sister who did everything right. And it still wasn't enough. It would never be.

Allie had everything. She always did. And in the end, she would get Caroline back too.

Emma knew this now. Her niece was like the rest of the human race, like her parents and Natalie Harper and others. They'd forgive and forget, and soon Allie would be back to being the favorite. She'd made inroads already. Caroline was softening; it wouldn't be long before she'd decide that she wanted to be Allie's daughter again. That she wanted her real mother. All children did.

After what seemed like hours, Emma made herself get up and walk to the gravestone. In the grass, she knelt in front of the rectangular gravestone, ran a finger along the edge.

She grasped the small box in her pocket, pulled it out, and removed the top. She reached inside. Time to say good-bye to both of them. She stared at the granite marker, tracing his name with her eyes, her cheeks wet with tears.

Boyd Thomas.

I miss you. I'll always love you. I'm lost without you.

Help me.

What should I do? Where do I belong?

A gust of air blew the tree branches overhead, scattering crisp autumn leaves to the ground like confetti. He answered her through nature, offering a release and a blessing.

Dabbing at her face with the edge of her sleeve, drying her eyes,
she almost laughed out loud at his wisdom.
Of course.
One more stop to make, then home.

Gathering all of her strength, Emma held up the cherub figurine, turning it over one last time, memorizing the curves and lines. She turned the little angel to face the gravestone.

“This is your father, sweetie,” Emma whispered. “But you two have probably already met.” She raised her eyes to the dark sky. “Up there in heaven.”

With a gentle sigh, Emma pressed her lips to the delicate porcelain figurine. With a trembling hand, she set it down on the grass, nestling the statuette close to the stone. Her child would be protected here.

As she made her way down the hill and back through the iron gate, the buzz of Emma's cell phone broke the silence. She glanced at the screen, sighing at yet another call from Allie.

She waited for the requisite amount of time to pass, listened for the tone signaling a new voice mail, and listened as she walked.

I've found something really important, Emma. Some real evidence about Coach Thomas and Sheriff Gaines. As soon as you can, I need you to meet me at this address, and I'll show you everything.

After she played the message for a second time, Emma typed the address into her cell and checked the mileage. She sighed heavily. The trip would take ninety minutes, maybe more, all so that Emma could listen to her sister's far-fetched scheme to prove the sheriff's culpability.

Pausing outside her car, Emma debated about the drive and the distance. She was exhausted. She needed to go back to her parents' house, pick up Caroline, and get as far away from Brunswick as she could.

But she couldn't quite shake the urgency in Allie's voice.
Please come.
Her sister had her guard down, anxious to share whatever
she'd found. Emma dropped her cell phone into the outside pocket of her bag and fished out her car keys, her fingers tightening around the metal teeth. She squeezed harder, feeling the sharp angles cut into her skin.

It was then Emma's pulse began to race. Fumbling with the remote, Emma unlocked her car and slid inside, cranking the engine as quickly as she could.

FIFTY-SIX

CAROLINE

2016

Caroline was at Emma's, hiding out from the world for a while, despite what she'd told her grandparents about visiting friends. She needed quiet, time to think. She was laying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, when she heard the tires squeal in the driveway.

Scooping up her cell phone, Caroline jumped up and ran for the front door.

She'd barely reached the handle and swung the door open when Russell stepped inside the house. His eyes darted from corner to corner of the room. “Where is she? Your aunt? Did she come back?”

Caroline paused. “She, um, left me this note and said she was going out of town. I'm supposed to stay with my grandparents.” She wrinkled her nose. “It's weird. She's never done that before.”

Russell frowned. “I think I saw your aunt leaving Dr. Gaines's room this afternoon. I swear it.”

Wrinkling her nose, Caroline hesitated. “That doesn't make any sense. Why would she be there?”

“Listen.” Russell touched Caroline's arm. “I don't want to tell you this, but June Gaines . . . She died.”

“Wait. What?” Caroline felt her body sway unsteadily.

“I was working, just doing my thing, and I could have sworn I saw you—or your aunt—leaving June Gaines's room.” Russell wrinkled his forehead. “I started walking over to see if it was you—like, I thought you'd forgotten something and come back.” He stared at the floor. “By the time I got to the stairwell, there was this big commotion behind me. The overhead intercom started blowing up,” Russell said. “People were running in and out of Dr. Gaines's room, and then one of the aides told me she died—just like that. They couldn't do anything to help her. Sheriff Gaines came. They called the medical examiner . . .”

Caroline's hand flew to her mouth. “B-but she was fine a few hours ago.”

“I know,” Russell said, running a hand through his hair. “I just don't think it was an accident.” He exhaled and glanced around as if someone might be listening to their conversation. He lowered his voice. “We need to do something. I think we need to tell someone.”

Chest tight, head swimming, Caroline hesitated.

Russell bent down to look into Caroline's eyes and reached out for her hand. “But my mom and dad just left—there was some vet emergency on St. Simons and the family couldn't bring their dog in.” Russell let Caroline's hand go. “And they can only help so much. Let's at least try to talk to your mom.”

Biting her bottom lip, Caroline grabbed her bag and keys, locking Emma's door behind her. She followed Russell silently, slid into the front seat, and held her breath on the way to her mother's rental house.

As they rounded the corner, pulled up to the curb, and parked, Caroline slid down in the seat, causing Russell to flash a worried look in her direction. “Hey, it'll be okay. I promise.”

Caroline caught her breath as Russell leaned over and kissed
her cheek. The next second he pushed open the car door and jogged to Allie's front porch.

Color rising in her cheeks, Caroline watched him peer into the windows.

For a full two minutes, he didn't move, mesmerized by something inside. Finally, Russell shifted to get a better look. What was he looking at? She strained to see, hoping he might turn around and signal something—some clue about what was inside. When she couldn't stand it any longer, Caroline opened her door, stepped onto the sidewalk, and ran lightly up the porch stairs. “What is it?”

“A map,” Russell said, his hands still cupped around his eyes.

Caroline leaned in to get a better look, but the afternoon light made everything shadowy inside the house. “A map?” she echoed.

But Russell didn't answer. He was already down the front steps, sprinting away, before Caroline could ask where he was going. She wanted to call out, yell for him to stop, but that would surely draw attention to anyone driving by who saw the two teenagers. By all rights, anyone with any sense would know they likely had no business being on Allie's porch and peeking in the windows, even if it was her own mother's house. By the time Caroline had thought to glance across the street to make sure the neighbors weren't staring through their windows, Russell opened the front door of Allie's house.

“What the . . .” Caroline's jaw dropped.

“Remember the kids I hung out with?” Russell grinned. “I picked up a few skills along the way.”

“I don't think we should—” Caroline's mouth went dry.

Russell took her by the hand and pulled her inside, closing the door behind her. “You can't stay on the porch.” He tugged her over to the wall, pointed at the map, and then picked up a notebook with lists made in a woman's cursive handwriting. “Look at all of this,” he breathed.

The words swam in front of Caroline's eyes as she tried to focus. She couldn't think. She was inside her mother's house. Russell had just committed breaking and entering.

But Russell was still talking. “This all makes sense,” he said. He gestured from the notes to the map on the wall. “The timeline, the locations. All of this stuff about Coach Thomas and Sheriff Gaines. That flyer at the school.” He turned to face Caroline. “I think your mom found something.” He poked a finger in the center of the triangle. “Something big.”

Caroline sucked in a breath and stared at the red pushpin stuck in the middle of Coffee County, Georgia. “But—I don't get it. Why there? And what is it?”

“Come on,” Russell said, grasping her hand. “We're going to find out.”

FIFTY-SEVEN

ALLIE

2016

Allie was waiting, leaning on her mother's car, when Emma pulled in from the dirt road and parked next to the cabin.

“Finally,” she said, relieved as her sister stepped out of the car, blinking into the late-afternoon sunshine. “I've been trying to reach you for days,” Allie chided. “I was worried sick.”

“I know,” Emma murmured, holding the keys in her hand. She fidgeted, refusing to look at anything but the ramshackle cabin. “What is this place?”

“Why don't you tell me?” Allie asked quietly.

“I-I don't know,” Emma replied, lifting her chin in defiance.

A sudden gust of wind whistled around them like a warning.

“Fine,” Allie said, shaking her head. “It seems Coach Thomas—and probably a few other people—had quite an operation going on here about ten years ago. A little home cooking. Steroids for the football team.”

Emma flinched.

“You know, my idea? The one that everyone thought was crazy?” Allie folded her arms tight to her chest.

“Oh great.” Emma rolled her eyes. “So, you brought me here to tell me that you were right all along? That's what this is all about? To shove it in my face?”

Allie recoiled as if her sister had taken a swing at her head. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “You know what Caroline said to me. You know I had to find who was really responsible for killing the coach. I told you I thought it was Sheriff Gaines.” Her voice faltered. “There was a time you cared about my innocence. You said a dozen times that it was all so unfair—the investigation, the trial.”

“It's always been about you, hasn't it?” Emma sneered. “You, you, you.”

“I—” Allie struggled for an answer. Right before her eyes, her sister had morphed into an enemy, staring at her with something that looked a lot like hatred.

Allie steeled herself. She had come here for answers, no matter how viciously Emma wanted to fight. “This also happens to be about
you
. You and the coach.”

“What are you talking about?” Her sister paled.

“All of those secret phone calls, you heading out in the middle of the night,” Allie said, choking back nausea at the thought. “It was Coach Thomas, wasn't it?”

This time Emma balked. She pressed her lips together, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and looked away.

“I found something here. It has your handwriting on it.”

This got her sister's attention. Emma's head swiveled, her eyes flashing, as if daring Allie to go on.

Allie turned to where her purse sat on the car and withdrew the card. Clutching it tightly, she held it up for Emma to see. “It says ‘C—I love you.' ” Allie's voice raised an octave. She waited, anticipating, not at all certain her sister would answer. Allie braced for Emma to run away, to jump in the car.

But Emma stood still for what seemed like ages. Finally, she broke the silence. “So what? I did love him.”

An electric current ran the length of Allie's body, jolting her with pain. It was true. Somehow Allie found her voice, willing it not to shake. “And what about the rest? What about the steroids?”

Emma shrugged. “Sure, he was giving stuff to the players. D'Shawn Montgomery, some of the others.”

Allie blinked as her sister reeled off the information as if they were discussing the merits of using vitamin C to cure the common cold.

“It was supposed to help their performance. He said they needed it, certain players did, and that it would only make things better. It would help them get college prospects and a winning season, guaranteed.”

Forcing herself to remain calm, Allie thought carefully about her next questions. “So . . . Dad. Dad was okay with this?”