southern ghost hunters 02 - skeleton in the closet (16 page)

My tires crackled against the rock driveway and I prayed I wasn't too late, that Maisie was safe inside. 

I didn't want to imagine the alternative.

The windows stood dark. Wind rushed through the trees, scattering dry leaves and whipping up a small dust storm. The dry boards of the house creaked under the assault, but nothing else stirred.

Perhaps Maisie was out walking her property.

I knocked on the rough plank door. "Maisie?" I pounded again for good measure. "It's me, Verity." 

After our last adventure, I told her I'd come see her again. That was nearly a month ago, I realized with a twinge of guilt. I'd only dropped by once since then, and she hadn't even been home. I should have tried again. 

"Hello?" I called, as the front door creaked inward, all by itself. I smelled a hearty mix of beef and vegetables with rosemary and garlic. But I didn't see anyone.

A dark couch and coffee table hunkered in the shadows. The only light filtered from a kitchen window in the back. It illuminated a beat-up wood table and 1960s-style gold-and-brown flowered wallpaper.

I fought the urge to duck my head inside. Maisie owned a shotgun and wasn't afraid to use it. I'd learned that the hard way last month when I'd trespassed on her property.

"Maisie?" I asked, louder this time.

What if she lay dead inside? Injured? The killer might still be here. 

Or I might just need to rein in my imagination. I took a deep breath. It's not as if I could have envisioned a good majority of the surprises I'd received lately. In fact, most of them had turned out far worse than I could have predicted.

I tugged a hand through my hair. Dang me, I had to stop giving myself pep talks.

All right. Something was definitely wrong if Maisie had left her house unlocked and unguarded. Yes, I didn't always bolt my doors, but I lived near people. And I wasn't as paranoid as Maisie. 

She may have left in a hurry. 

I made my way around the side of the house, my fingers skimming the rough, cracked wood. I kept an eye out for anyone lurking along the tree line—although it wouldn't be hard to hide. 

Maisie's blue beater truck sat on a rocky patch at the back of the house, with Ellis's squad car parked haphazardly next to it. 

There was no sign of either one of them.

The light bar on the top of his car sat dark. Perhaps this was a social call. Ellis treated Maisie like a favorite aunt.

Still, I'd gone and riled Virginia up. I practically implied that I knew she would lose her fortune. What if I'd driven her here? She as good as admitted she would kill to keep her fortune.

Just beyond the cars, a single gardening shoe lay near the woods. My mind snapped back to the image of Darla's white pump, motionless and half covered by the display table.

Oh, no. Not Maisie, too.

But I didn't see a body. At least, not yet.

My heartbeat sped up. Sweat slicked my palms as I made my way toward the shoe.

Voices sounded in the trees beyond the small clearing that made up Maisie's backyard. From this distance, it was impossible to say who it could be or what they were saying.

One thing was for certain: I was not going to call out again. I wouldn't betray my presence or my location, not yet at least. Good thing I'd never taken my cell phone off vibrate. I stuffed my keys into my pocket and clutched my bag to my side to silence any clanging of the urn.

If it was Maisie or Ellis, they'd be glad to see me, even if I sneaked up on them. If it was the killer? 

Then I'd run faster than I ever had before.

Quietly, carefully, I picked my way through the trees, avoiding the dry leaves on the ground, any sticks that might snap and betray my location. I kept to the right of the voices, finding the cover of thick trees, my movements precise. 

I remained hidden away until the exact moment when a hand grasped my right arm.

"Ha!" I spun away and jammed an elbow straight into my attacker's rib cage, just as I'd learned at YMCA self-defense classes, levels one and two.

"Oof." Ellis took the hit. He bent over, closing both his arms around me, pressing my back into his chest. "What the hell, Verity?"

"It's you." I slumped against him, relieved. Boy, he felt good. And warm. "Sorry about that," I added, a bit guilty to be enjoying his embrace after elbowing him as hard as I did.

He loosened his grasp, turned me around. 

His blue waffle shirt set off his eyes. "Nice ninja moves." He stayed bent over a little, even as he tried to play it off. Poor guy. "What were you doing trying to sneak up behind me?"

"Thought you might need saving," I said, honestly. 

He smiled at that, even though he was tall and strong and gorgeous, and I was still short even when wearing heels. "Thanks. Good to know you have my back."

"And your front," I added, relieved, happy, and mortified as soon as the words slipped out. My hands ran down his chest for a second before I pulled them back like I'd been stung. "Whoops."

"You're fine," he said, his attention following the movement of my hands, his voice gravelly all of a sudden. He cleared his throat and leaned closer. "Just keep your voice down. Maisie's over here. We have something to show you."

"I can't imagine what," I whispered.

"It's a surprise," he said, placing a hand on the small of my back and leading me deeper into the woods.

I was willing to bet the surprise I had for them was just as big. I wanted to break the news to each of them in different ways, one at a time. They both deserved that consideration. 

I'd have to think on exactly how to accomplish it. 

Ellis picked his way through the underbrush even more quietly than I had. I didn't see much of a trail as we ducked around a fallen log and skirted past a copse of old-growth pines. 

"Here," he said gently, and I saw Maisie crouched at the base of one of the larger trees, her old hunting boots digging into the loose soil. Her wild auburn hair stood out like a beacon. Her olive-and-brown plaid shirt and woolen trousers blended into the autumn brush. Low, heavy branches skirted the ground, which was covered with rich green needles.

She smiled, showing her crooked teeth, and motioned me forward.

I crouched next to her as she lifted the branch.

Four tiny baby bunnies huddled together in a pocket of grass. Their eyes hadn't fully opened and their perfect little ears lay tight against their heads.

"Oh, how precious," I gasped. Their mottled brown fur, flecked with black, had to be so soft. I couldn't get over their little pink noses. The smallest one reminded me of Lucy when I first found her. She kept tilting up her head, as if she had to know what was going on.

Maisie sat back on her haunches. "Had a rabbit eating up my winter garden. Ellis and I were setting no-kill traps until we found this."

He chuckled. "Now Maisie's ready to let them eat this year's harvest and next."

She replaced the branch and stood, wiping her knees off. "You get rid of those traps? That nursing mama doesn't need us to hassle her."

"Consider them gone." He grinned, reaching out a hand to help me off the ground.

"Let's pull two of the winter cabbage and plant them at the edge of the tree line. Make it easier for them to get. In the meantime, I'm going to fetch some dryer lint and leave it for them to find. I hear it makes good bunny bedding."

"It's like she's done this before," Ellis mused. Maisie waved him off as she trudged through the woods toward the house. 

I couldn't help but smile. "You two realize there are bound to be other little furries eating her garden, not just these rabbits."

"True." He shrugged as we followed Maisie back. "But if she's happy feeding every critter in Sugarland, I don't mind helping." 

I clapped him on a broad shoulder. "You're a good man, Ellis Wydell."

He kept his eyes on the ground, shaking his head. "I'm just glad you're still talking to me after you went and saw my mother."

"She told you." I silently berated myself. Of course she did. And Ellis would know exactly what I'd been up to. "Frankie didn't find anything," I assured him.

He met my eyes then. "Did you honestly think he would?"

Yes.
But my answer would only hurt Ellis, and he of all people didn't deserve that. So I kept my mouth shut.

As far as I was concerned, Virginia had the means and the motive. She certainly had the temperament. Some irrefutable piece of evidence would turn up soon, I was sure.

It would be painful enough for Ellis when I found proof of his mother's guilt. So in the meantime, I wasn't going to argue. Instead, like a good Southern girl, I changed the subject. "Tell me, Sheriff Wydell," I began, drawing out his name, enjoying the sound of it, "are you taking up bunny raising as a side job, or merely a hobby?"

He laughed at that, and I found myself joining him. I liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, how he smiled without any pretense. He pressed his lips together, eyeing the forest. "I came here to look at her heater, but we got distracted."

"I didn't realize you were so handy."

"Maybe I'm not," he said, as we stepped out into Maisie's backyard. "I thought I fixed the thing last year."

"Ouch."

He began picking up several traps at the edge of the yard, simple metal cages with narrow, funneled entrances. "I'm all she's got, though. She can't afford a repairman. Or"—he held up a trap—"critter control." 

He popped his trunk and began storing the traps inside. "She won't let me spot her the cost. Says she doesn't want charity." He shrugged. "I get that. So I figured out how to do these things myself." He closed the trunk and faced me, as if he feared my reaction. "It's good for me, too."

To have someone appreciate him, respect him for who he was. I understood better than he realized. Ellis liked to help people, and he cherished his independence. It only made sense he'd want to help Maisie hold on to hers.

"No work today?" I asked, leaning up against his squad car.

He reached down and pocketed his keys, but not before I saw the frustration flicker across his face. "I took off. Marshall's not letting me work on the murder case anyway. Figured I'd try to cool it."

Then this certainly wasn't his lucky day. "Ellis," I said, my voice hitching on his name. "I have to tell you something and I'm not sure how to do it, so bear with me."

"Okay," he said, facing me, prepared for whatever I had to say. That was Ellis. Hit it head-on and deal with it.

"Melody did some research into county records and discovered the identity of your great-aunt, the woman listed in the document I saw."

He watched me carefully. "You're acting like this isn't good news."

"It is, mostly," I said quickly. It meant he shared blood with someone he already cared for. It also meant she was in danger. "It's Maisie."

He stiffened and took a step back. 

"You had no idea," I said, reaching out to try to comfort him.

He eluded my grasp. "Why would I?" he asked, stopping for a moment, stunned. "How can you be sure?"

"She listed Madeline Angelica Learner
on her marriage license. Same birth date. Same year as on the document I saw. She's the same person, Ellis," I said, as gently as I could.

"Give me a second." He pinched his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "This is a lot to take in."

"I know." I tried to close the distance between us, to offer him some kind of support. "I'm sorry."

He dropped his hand. "You didn't do anything."

Except dig up secrets from the past. "I have to think this is going to be a surprise for Maisie, too." 

Ellis hitched a thumb under his belt. "She isn't going to take this news easy."

"I'm not even sure how to tell her," I admitted.

It would have to be done delicately. Ellis believed me about seeing ghosts and projections of documents, even though he couldn't experience them himself. Maisie might very well think I was bat crazy, and I wouldn't blame her.

Ellis lowered his hand. "We can't keep that kind of a secret from her, especially when it puts her in danger. And we're sure not going to leave her alone."

"Okay, good." We had a plan of sorts in place. "So how do we approach this?" He knew her best.

Ellis glanced at the small shack. "Together," he said, taking my hand, giving it a slight squeeze. "We go in there, find the right moment, and do this together."

"And hope she doesn't shoot us," I added, glad to have him on my team.

His lips quirked. "That too."

Chapter Fourteen

E
LLIS
OPENED
THE
door for me and together we walked into the kitchen where Maisie stood over a bubbling pot on the stove. The scent of rich broth, garlic, and onions made me miss my grandma's cooking. 

"You're staying for dinner," she said. It was a statement, not a request.

"Yes, ma'am." There was no way I'd pass on an offer like that, even without a killer on the loose. 

I surveyed the kitchen. I'd been mistaken before about the state of this room. Yes, the style harkened back to the 1960s, with an original almond defrost fridge, crocheted yellow kitchen curtains, and a linoleum floor patterned to resemble red brick. But Maisie's home was bright. Loved.

A sun catcher in the shape of a star hung over the window overlooking the yard, and pots of fresh herbs crowded every available inch of counter space. She suddenly reminded me of a mad scientist cook.

I was about to shatter the illusion of a peaceful evening. Maisie was in the path of a murderer. We had to figure out a way to keep her safe. It would be like trying to lock a bear in a garden shed, but it had to be done. I didn't have high hopes that this would go over well.

Ellis inspected the pot, vying for a taste, while I stopped to smell a particularly full and gorgeous rosemary plant. "This reminds me of the kitchen garden my grandmother used to grow." She'd passed the plants to her friend Annice when she'd grown ill.

"Your grandma and I used to share sprigs from our best plants," she said over her shoulder, while batting Ellis away from her stew. "I'm pretty sure that one came from her."