Speak No Evil (8 page)

Suddenly, needing to talk to Savannah, Caroline went in search of her cell phone to call her sister and find out where she was—and realized belatedly that her purse was still in the car along with her laptop. She veered off to her mother’s office, where she knew there was still a landline. Her mother had hated phones, and preferred not to be surrounded by incessant ringing at home as well as at the office so she kept two landlines in the house. One in her office and one in the guest bedroom, as a courtesy.

Sequestered at the back of the house, her mother’s home office was separated from the rest of the house by arched interior French doors. Matching exterior doors opened to a sweeping view of the marsh. It was a stately throne room fit for the queen of Charleston media.

With a shuddering breath, Caroline stood outside the office door, her hand hesitating on the handle. None of them were invited into Flo’s office often and she cracked open the unlocked door with a mixture of reverence and trepidation.

Get over it,
she told herself.
Flo isn’t going to come around the corner and yell at you for poking your nose into her business. Anyway, this is your business now.

She peered inside and her heart slammed against her ribs.

On the other side of the room, on the French doors leading to the back veranda, one of the beveled panes was shattered, offering a clear view into the night. One door was left ajar.

J
ack pulled the phone off the dash and glanced at the caller ID. His fingers fumbled as he rushed to answer. “Caroline?”

For a moment, there was dead silence on the other end. “Jack!” she whispered. “Come back—hurry!”

Words he’d been waiting to hear for a long time, but something in her tone told him that it wasn’t for the reason he hoped. Thankfully, he hadn’t gone far. Even as he asked, he turned the car around. “Is everything okay, Caroline?”

“No!” The single word exploded into the receiver, and the tightness in Jack’s chest intensified.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know! Someone broke in—hurry!”

Wedging the phone between his face and shoulder, he turned on his blue lights, but not the sirens. “Stay on the phone, Caroline!” he demanded and radioed for backup.

 

Caroline crouched by her mother’s desk with the phone clasped to her ear. She had gone straight to it, intending to call the police but her fingers automatically dialed Jack’s number, knowing he couldn’t have gone far.

She hadn’t realized she still remembered the number.

There was no sign of the intruder, but night sky beyond the broken glass and the open door made her feel vulnerable. She heard Jack radio for backup and then wrestle with the phone. “Okay,” he said.

“Hurry!” she whispered.

“I’m here, Caroline—coming around now. Stay down!”

She hadn’t heard his car pull up, but she did hear him toss down the phone without hanging up and waited for what seemed an eternity while he made his way around the property to the office in back. The front door would be locked. She hadn’t bothered to set the alarm because Savannah was still out there.

Somewhere.

A new wave of panic set in. She hadn’t even considered that maybe someone had taken her sister while she’d slept. The entire time she’d been sitting in the kitchen talking with Jack, consumed with their past, her sister might have been in danger. But no, she reminded herself, the car was gone. So was Tango. Savannah was fine.

Her thoughts strayed to last night’s murder.

The site where the body had been discovered was near Oyster Point, but she couldn’t imagine the killer being stupid enough to still be in the area.

“Police,” Jack said. “Hands up!”

Caroline poked her head up just enough to peer over the desk.

“Thank God!” she said, never happier to see him in her life. At the moment, she didn’t care what history there was between them. She could have leapt at him and kissed his face ecstatically, except that his gun was drawn and the sight of it was enough to keep her rooted to the spot.

“It’s just me in here.”

“We’re clear out here, too,” he told her, “but stay where you are.” He kicked the door open and came in. “Could they have gotten into the house?”

Caroline shook her head. “The inside door was closed, but maybe. I don’t know. The office door wasn’t locked.”

“We’ll wait until backup arrives to search the house. Have you touched anything?”

Caroline shook her head. “Just the phone. And the office door.” And the desk she was gripping right now, but that was obvious.

“Good.”

He flipped on the light and inspected the room. Aside from the broken glass, nothing seemed out of place. Papers were still neatly stacked on the desk, drawers were closed and books on the shelves were all in place. Flo had been a meticulous organizer and her office was no exception. But Caroline’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

“Whoever it was must have gotten spooked, but we might get some prints off the door.”

They fell into an awkward silence.

What the hell did you talk about when your house had just been vandalized and your savior was the man you were supposed to marry, but didn’t because he cheated on you? Nothing. That was what.

After what felt like the longest ten minutes of Caroline’s life, they finally heard the screech of car tires out front. Suddenly, there were men in uniform spilling into the room, three to begin with and a fourth moments later.

“I checked the entire perimeter,” the fourth said. “Nothing.”

Caroline decided it must be safe to leave her spot behind the desk, but Jack ushered her back, then led a group inside the main part of the house.

A very tense few minutes later, one of them returned. “The house is clear,” he said and marched out the back door.

Caroline heard yet another car pull up and a car door open and slam, followed by a deep bark and Savannah’s voice.

Abandoning her spot behind the desk, Caroline ran out to reassure her sister. The instant she saw Savannah, she ran to embrace her, hugging her tight.

Tango woofed at her in confusion.

“Caroline! What the hell is going on here?”

Caroline explained briefly what had happened and then demanded, “Where were you?”

“I took Sadie home. We had a glass of wine. When I’d gone upstairs to call you down for dinner, you were so out of it you didn’t even stir, so I took Tango with me and let you sleep. When did this happen?”

Caroline shook her head. “That’s the crazy part. I have no idea! I woke up from a dream, thought I heard glass breaking, but Tango didn’t bark and the house was quiet. I didn’t think any more about it. Then the doorbell rang, it was Jack, maybe he scared them off—I have no idea!”

Savannah shuddered and hugged Caroline again. “Thank God you’re safe! Now slow down and tell me again what happened.”

Caroline took a deep breath and told her the story once more, without the benefit of theatrics. They walked arm in arm into the house as yet another police cruiser came skidding to a halt in the driveway, lights flashing, spraying oyster shells from under the tires. At this point, she was starting to feel a little foolish, considering that no one had actually gotten into the house, and she had to wonder how much of the police response had to do with Jack, and how much had to do with the simple fact that her mother had been a respected pillar of the community. Thinking of the blow-off Karen Hutto seemed to be receiving, she felt a little guilty.

Tango turned and barked as two more men launched out of the cruiser and Jack walked past them, greeting the newcomers. Caroline met his gaze only briefly and looked quickly away.

Savannah gave her a meaningful look. “You know a girl was murdered just down the road last night?”

Caroline shuddered and gave Savannah’s arm a squeeze. “Yeah, we’ll lock Mother’s office door from the inside tonight and maybe you should call Sadie, let her know—no more ducking out without telling me where you’re going!” She turned to call Tango into the house, but Jack was petting him. “And he stays home from now on.”

Savannah peered over her shoulder. “Tango or Jack?”

“Funny,” Caroline said without smiling at Savannah’s attempt at good humor. “I meant the one who barks.”

“Good thing you didn’t say the one who bites,” her sister teased. “We both know which one that is.”

Caroline gave her baby sister the evil eye, annoyed because she had successfully conjured intimate images of Jack in Caroline’s mind—sexy memories she really didn’t need or want to deal with at the moment. She wholly regretted telling Savannah anything.

Her sister smiled knowingly.

It was nearly one
A.M.
before the police cleared out.

If there was a fingerprint anywhere in her mother’s office, they found it and lifted it. As far as anyone could tell, nothing had been taken and there was no evidence anybody had made it inside, but the incident left Caroline feeling a sense of dread, especially after the break-in at Daniel’s office.

Savannah stayed by her side until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and then excused herself, leaving Caroline to say good-bye to Jack.

Feeling awkward, Caroline stood on the top step of the porch, peering down at him, keeping her distance. “Thanks for coming to my rescue,” she offered.

One side of his mouth curved upward, and for a moment, she could almost forget there were years of resentment between them. “I’m surprised you remembered the number.”

Caroline smiled ruefully. “I’m more surprised you didn’t change it.”

He lifted both his brows. “It wasn’t me who left.”

Caroline nodded. “Fair enough,” she said. But they both knew why she’d gone.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, something he did whenever he was feeling a little uncertain, and Caroline wished she didn’t know that detail about him. “Anyway . . . make sure you set the alarm tonight.”

Caroline crossed her arms against the slight breeze in the air. “No way will I forget!”

“You sure you don’t want me to stay . . . on the couch?”

“We’ll be fine, Jack. Josh is coming over after he checks on Sadie.”

For a moment, they just stared at one another. Caroline recognized the regret in his eyes and it only served to confuse her.

“Alrighty, well . . . try to get some sleep.” He turned to go.

“Jack?”

He stopped and turned.

For some reason, she was suddenly reluctant to see him go, but couldn’t ask him to stay. “There was a break-in at Daniel’s last week. Could they be connected?”

“King Street?”

“Yeah. They said it was kids looking for cash for drugs. They trashed the place and put Daniel in the hospital.”

“Rough area,” he acknowledged, and seemed to think about it a moment, conceding, “Probably not. I’ll look into it anyway.”

“Thanks.”

“Good night, Caroline,” he said, opening his car door and sliding in.

“Night, Jack,” she said.

He waited for her to go inside before driving away.

It had been Sadie’s favorite saying when Caroline and her sisters were pouting over perceived injustices and that advice might seem to apply right now, Caroline thought, except that, no matter what lens you peered through, complaining about inheriting twenty-seven million dollars fell smack under the rubric of “poor little rich girl.”

Pretty much Caroline’s entire life, she had been acutely aware that, in the grand scheme of things, complaints from any Aldridge were perceived as ungracious. All three girls attended Ashley Hall until high school, when Augusta had begun her personal crusade against her station in life. Aside from Sammy’s disappearance, they had lived relatively sheltered childhoods, chauffeured to and from school and wearing tartan uniforms that made them look a little like Highland dolls, right down to the varying shades of red in their hair. When Augusta had insisted upon being treated like a “normal person,” they had all three switched to public school in order to support her—much to Flo’s dismay. It was about that time they all discovered boys, and it was about that time Caroline met Jack.

He was the reluctant heartthrob football player who tended to spend his time off field alone and oblivious to the sideways glances girls threw in his direction. A brooding loner, raised by an alcoholic drug-addicted mother and abandoned by his dipsomaniacal father. Although their mothers couldn’t have been more different, or come from more different backgrounds, both had neglected their kids. Caroline’s mother had left her for the paper and a mountain of grief while Jack’s had abandoned him for drugs and prostitution. Both were products of their circumstances.

A champion for the underdog, Jack was the first and only person to ever see Caroline the way she felt. He saw in her what no one else did—that bottomless well of sadness that was inherent in neglected children, no matter what the price of their clothes.

At the time, some part of Caroline had needed the compassion Jack showed her, but the problem with being someone’s project was that, eventually, another project would come along to pull at the heartstrings. It seemed to Caroline that Jack’s need to nurture was as much an addiction as drugs or alcohol and Caroline had to face the fact that it didn’t take much to eclipse the hardships of being a poor little rich girl.

They were engaged to be married when she learned of Jack’s “indiscretion” with her best friend. She had completely rejected his impassioned assurances that nothing had happened—mostly out of fear that it was just a matter of time before he would break her heart anyway. But later, even after she’d finally come to believe him, the one thing that had kept Caroline from picking up the phone and calling him was a nagging sense of doubt that love was never a part of their equation.

Simply put, Jack needed to fix things.

Apparently, so did Josh. He slept over until the door was repaired, which took far longer than anyone would have anticipated. The beveled Italian glass had to be custom ordered, but even once the repairs were done, Caroline had to assure him repeatedly that they would be fine on their own and she promised to set the alarm every night. If he were going to stay with anyone, Caroline reasoned, it should be his mother. It made no sense to leave Sadie alone while he watched over three grown women who were perfectly capable of fending for themselves. Anyway, what was he going to do? Move in indefinitely? That would be ridiculous. Flo had lived here for years alone. They would be fine.

The real reason he wanted to stay, she suspected, was that Augusta was finally on her way home. Caroline took the opportunity of her sister’s arrival to book a flight to Dallas. She hadn’t accumulated much in life, but enough that it would necessitate making some arrangements, including getting her car back to Charleston. Her mom’s Town Car was great if you were a collector, but Caroline didn’t really give a damn about cars and she didn’t care to be the center of attention every time she got on the road. She’d rather be invisible in her little silver Lexus.

As for Dallas, she didn’t feel much regret over leaving the place, but since she couldn’t get out of her lease, she decided to use the apartment for storage, which would allow her ample time to make a long-term decision. Whether or not she continued at the helm of the
Tribune
remained to be seen, but she wasn’t going to stay in Charleston an entire year without her belongings, so she packed up everything she couldn’t live without, and whatever wouldn’t fit in the car, she shipped.

After all was said and done, it took her five days to accomplish what Augusta had taken nearly two weeks to complete—or rather, what she claimed took her two weeks, because, in fact, she’d shown up in Charleston without much more than she’d left with. Caroline foresaw many more “trips” to New York for her recalcitrant sister.

Caroline made her escape from Dallas during lunch-hour traffic, and once she was settled on I-20, with gas in her car and a steaming cup of coffee, she called Savannah to let her know she was on her way.

“Everything’s quiet here,” Savannah reassured.

“Good. How’s Augie?”

Savannah gave a little snort. “Augie is . . . well, Augie. She’s fine.”

Not much more needed to be said. “At least she’s predictable,” Caroline offered. “Once I get back, you can go do whatever it is you have to do in D.C.”

“I’m good for now.”

Caroline furrowed her brow. Savannah had already been in Charleston more than three weeks. At some point, she would have to go home to make her own arrangements.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“All right. Well, you know best. So how’s everyone else?”

Savannah seemed relieved when Caroline abandoned the topic of D.C. “Fine. Josh is MIA—he and Augie got into a tiff. Sadie’s fine. She’s here now. Wanna talk to her?”

“Nah, that’s okay. I still have to call the office, and then I need to pay attention to the road. I haven’t driven this way in years.”

“All right,” Savannah said. “Drive carefully.”

“I will. Love you,” Caroline offered.

“Love you, too.”

They hung up and Caroline tried to recall the last time she had said those words to anyone besides her sisters. The last man she had said them to was Jack. And though she was certain she had, at some point, she couldn’t ever recall having said those three little words to her mother. Nor could she remember her mother ever having said them to her—or to anyone else, for that matter. Not even to their father. It was difficult to know conclusively if Flo had truly ever loved anything or anyone. Certainly she didn’t hate anyone, but she’d always seemed so emotionally barren. Though if Caroline thought back . . . to a time before that day on the beach, she could vaguely recall her mother’s laughter. But it was such a ghost of a memory that she couldn’t even be sure it was real. She sighed, staring at the road ahead. A semi passed her and she caught the guy in the cab staring down into her car.

“Jerk,” she said aloud.

What about the
Tribune
?

Had Flo loved the paper? She’d guarded it jealously—still did, right from the grave—but to Caroline, that smacked of the need to control, not love. But while Caroline wasn’t Augusta—tireless in her rebellion—neither was she Savannah. Her mother had lost the right to control any aspect of her life. The paper was on the path to change and Caroline had already engaged an expanded Web team. As soon as she was able to, she intended to hire someone who was experienced with social media.

What about her father? Together, Flo and he had produced four kids within four years. Was that love? Or simply lust? Pretty much the only thing Caroline remembered about her dad was his absence. He was either coming or going or planning to leave. Before his death, he’d built a very promising political career, but apparently—despite the differences in their politics—he had one critical flaw in common with John F. Kennedy. He had a weakness for women. Caroline knew little else about him—at least nothing that wasn’t public knowledge. Flo was closemouthed about him and never welcomed that discussion.

Her father had moved out less than two months after Sammy’s death and three months later became one of Hurricane Hugo’s fifty-six victims—but not for the reason people were expected to die during a natural disaster. While Hugo’s winds whipped through Charleston, yanking up ancient trees and mangling bridges, her father keeled over dead upstairs in his Legare Street home from a massive heart attack at the age of thirty-eight—five years older than Caroline was now. His new girlfriend, a twenty-three-year-old College of Charleston graduate, broke the news to Flo sometime during the chaos of reconstruction. Caroline didn’t recall her mother shedding a single tear. She’d thanked the girl politely and then directed Caroline to gather her sisters. Once she had them all in one room, she broke the news as a matter of fact, somewhere between haggling with the roofers and cajoling Sadie into making her famous key lime pie—as though key lime pie would magically be able to cheer them.

Admittedly, Caroline had never felt more than a morbid and very detached fascination over the details of her father’s death. She often tried to imagine what it must have been like for the girlfriend—barely out of school, and probably crazy about her older, distinguished senator—to have to face his death alone in that house, without any access to a phone or EMS, with water rising all around her.

Caroline took a sip of her coffee, realizing she’d been clutching the phone in her left hand for nearly thirty minutes. She set it down. She didn’t know the office number anyway. For the past few days, Pam had called her every hour on the hour, but the ringer was strangely silent today. In fact, when she realized it was nearly four-thirty, she started to pull over to locate the office number in her call history just as the phone rang.

“Pam here.”

“Hi, Pam.”

“Frank wants to know if you’ll be here for the morning meeting?”

“I don’t see why not. I’m on my way back now.”

“Oh, good!” She was talking low suddenly, whispering. “He’s been super grumpy today and he isn’t happy you’re proposing a six
P.M.
bedtime. He says we’ve been putting the paper to bed at midnight since we rolled out the first edition and it’s a desecration of tradition.”

“I appreciate your telling me, Pam.”

Caroline had already begun to set a few cost-saving decisions in motion, and putting the paper to bed earlier was just one of them. “Anything else?”

“Well, yes. You know that lady, Karen Hutto?”

“Yes?”

“She wants to run an ad for her missing daughter.”

Caroline didn’t even think about the decision. “She doesn’t have to. Tell Frank to fill the news hole with a small update.”

Pam was whispering again. “You sure? I mean, he’s going to split his skull on his desk if I tell him that.”

Caroline sighed, probably more for Pam’s benefit than because of weariness. Truthfully, everything about the
Tribune
invigorated her as much as it terrified her. “Do you work for Frank, or for me?”

“You.”

“Then tell him, please. Get someone to call Mrs. Hutto. Let’s get some details out there. If the police aren’t making any progress, let’s give the public something that might help Karen find her daughter—get everything she’s got and print it.”

“Okay. Who do you want to cover it?” There was a hopeful note to her voice.

“Tell Frank to decide.”

“Okay.” She sounded disappointed.

“Don’t be afraid of him, Pam. He’ll come around.”

“Okay. Got it. Fill the news hole with Amanda, get details from Karen, tell Frank to decide who covers the story and don’t be afraid of the big bad wolf.”

Caroline grinned. “You’ve got it, girl! Remember, he’ll huff and he’ll puff, but that’s about all he can do because he’s one cigarette shy of an oxygen machine.”

Pam snickered. “Okay.”

Caroline laughed, realizing she hadn’t seen Jack smoke even once since she’d come home. “Oh, and before I forget. I glanced at your résum é. You have journalism experience!”

Pam suddenly sounded a little sheepish. “I do.”

“Do you want to write, Pam?”

“I do!” she exclaimed. “And I have—a little—but Frank is particular about the newsroom and Ms. Aldridge—I mean your mother—she thought I could win him over by learning the ropes from the ground up. So she started me at the receptionist desk.” She paused and said much lower, “I’ve been there a
long
time.”

“Okay, put some of your clips on my desk. Let’s see what you’ve got and I’ll see if we can’t speed up that process a bit.”

Caroline could hear the smile in Pam’s tone. “Thank you!”

Caroline’s phone beeped. “Call me if you need me,” she said. “I’ll be there in the morning.” She ended the call with Pam and glanced down at the caller ID, her heart jumping a little at the sight of the name on the display.