The Secrets She Kept (29 page)

So he called Nancy back. She didn’t pick up, but he didn’t blame her for that, either.

He waited for her voice mail.

“Nance, I’m sorry. I wish I’d acted differently a few minutes ago. I know I’m not someone you consider emotionally ‘safe.’ There’s good reason for that. If I were a woman, I’d probably steer clear of me, too. But I would never intentionally hurt you. I hope you believe that. Anyway, I already miss you and hate that you’re not coming over. So if you change your mind...” He wasn’t sure how to end his message, except with the one thing he knew to be true. “I hope you’ll change your mind.”

He hung up and waited. But when he didn’t hear from her, the clock seemed to tick more and more slowly. So he began to tear apart the house, looking for whatever Hugh had been after. It probably wasn’t worth the effort, which was why he hadn’t searched extensively before. But looking filled the time—kept him from thinking too much about Nancy or the addiction that tried to grab hold of him whenever he was frustrated, upset or unable to sleep.

“Shit,” he muttered when, several hours later, he still hadn’t found anything. At that point, he stopped pulling things out of cabinets and drawers and threw himself into a chair in the drawing room. Nothing was particularly comfortable in this room, since it had been furnished for show. But he was too stubborn to move to the living room or the library or even his bedroom.

He checked his watch. Had Nancy finished grocery shopping yet? Fed Simba? Walked him?

Most likely. It was ten.

Why hadn’t she called him back?

Hoping to see her headlights, he peered out the front window. But she wasn’t in the drive, and he had the terrible feeling she wasn’t coming.

Fortunately, it was finally late enough to call Hugh. Figuring that would distract him, at least, he walked to the study so he could be at his computer when they spoke.

“Hello?”

“Hugh, it’s Keith.”

“I recognize your number. How are you?”

Was this man protecting his wife? He almost had to be. “I’m fine. You?”

“Still reeling, of course. I’m sure you are, too.”

Was he sincere? Keith supposed knowing that his wife had killed his mistress, if that was what happened, wouldn’t be an easy thing to live with—so maybe he was. “They’ve completed the autopsy.”

“I put a call in to Chief Underwood, but haven’t heard back from her. What’d they find?”

“Mom didn’t drown. She was smothered.”

There was another pause. “You’re saying she was murdered.”

You already
know that, you bastard.
He
had
to know, didn’t he? Otherwise, why had he come to Fairham on Wednesday night—with his wife? “I’m afraid so.”

“Do they have any leads on who might’ve killed her?”

Wouldn’t you like to find out?
“Right now my sister seems to be the primary suspect.”

“Maisey?”

“Rocki.”

If Hugh had information that could save Rocki, and he had any conscience at all, he should come forward. “Why?”

“Jealousy.”

“I’m not sure I follow you. What kind of jealousy?”

“There was one night when Rocki’s husband, Landon, and Mom became a little too affectionate.” He didn’t feel it was necessary to say more than that.

His words were met with silence. Then Hugh said, “Men were always drawn to her.”

She did what she could to reel them in, too. Couldn’t stand not to be admired by every man in the room. Perhaps that was why Keith had some sympathy for Landon; Landon probably didn’t know what hit him. But Keith didn’t point out that his mother was very likely as culpable as his brother-in-law. He thought it wiser not to incite Hugh’s jealousy, felt it might make the man more talkative if he steered away from that as much as possible. “Yes.”

“But Rocki lives in Louisiana. How could anyone think
she
might be to blame?”

“She was on Fairham that night.”

“Oh, God.” He seemed genuinely distressed by this news.

“Exactly. She’s going through a very hard time. The police searched her house today.”

“Did they find anything to implicate her?”

“Not that they told me about. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Now that the investigation’s so close to home, Chief Underwood isn’t being nearly as open with me.”

“Makes sense, I suppose.”

What was this guy thinking? Keith wished he could somehow climb inside his head. He considered mentioning that strand of hair the police found; he wanted to see how Hugh might react. But he was afraid that if Hugh’s wife had the wig the fiber came from, they’d destroy it, if they hadn’t done so yet.

“How’ve things been with your wife?” Keith asked. “Does she know?”

He lowered his voice. “About your mother? No.”

Chief Underwood had been too busy chasing other leads and searching Rocki’s house to take a very thorough look at the Pointers. She’d made a few initial inquiries, learned that Hugh—and his wife, ostensibly—had an alibi and turned her attention away from them. But now that Jade had placed him and Lana on Fairham so soon after the murder, she’d be investigating them further. “Is she still in Europe?”

“Not anymore.”

“When did she get home?”

“Not too long after you and I talked last time. She came home early.”

Which couldn’t be true because she was on the island with him last Wednesday. He’d caught Hugh in a lie right there. “Why’d she cut the trip short?”

“She got sick, so she came home.”

“And left your daughter there?”

“It’s school trip, so there are teachers and other chaperones.” Which explained where Marliss was when Hugh and Lana came to Fairham. Lana had probably left Marliss as early as the Friday before Josephine was killed—and had come straight to South Carolina.

“I’m sorry to hear Lana didn’t get to finish the trip.”

“As we know, worse things can happen than missing out on part of a vacation.”

“Right. Well, I hope she’s feeling better.”

“I’m sure she’ll recover soon.” After that, Hugh was eager to get off the phone, but Keith didn’t mind. He was already on his computer, searching Facebook for a Marliss Pointer from Australia. If she’d just been to Europe, she might’ve posted a few pictures of her mother on social media...

Fortunately, Marliss wasn’t a common name. Only one profile came up—one that showed a pretty girl with blond hair and blue eyes who looked to be about the right age—and, in the details section, he saw that she was from Perth. She’d recently posted several pictures of herself standing in front of the Eiffel Tower with an older woman he could only assume was Lana. Their eyes were unmistakably similar—deep-set and an identical blue.

After pulling up the same profile on his phone, Keith went over to show Marcus Coleman.

27

“MARCUS COLEMAN BELIEVES
Lana Pointer was the woman who flagged him down,” Keith told Chief Underwood, who’d answered even though he’d called after midnight.

“I thought this person was too bundled up for him to see what she looked like.”

“Her eyes weren’t covered,” he said. “He told me she had blue eyes—and Lana’s definitely got blue eyes.”

“I don’t know that we can bank on ‘blue eyes,’ Keith. Or on the word of an ex-con.”

“He has no reason to lie.”

“Maybe not, but what about the age discrepancy? You originally told me he said the woman he saw on the side of the road was in her thirties. Lana’s a lot older than that. She and Hugh have been married for forty-two years.”

“Getting the age wrong would be an easy mistake to make, given the circumstances. But Lana and Hugh had to be the ones who broke into Coldiron House. He used a fake name when he checked into the Drift Inn. That tells you something right there.”

“It makes me believe he’s probably involved on some level—”

“He would
have
to be. It doesn’t make sense otherwise.”

Chief Underwood yawned. “I hear you, Keith. Just...let me figure it out, like I asked you before. Right now, I’m completely exhausted. I’ve gotten very little sleep since your mother died and I need to grab a few hours before my flight in the morning.”

“You’re still in Louisiana?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ll verify where the Pointers were as soon as possible?”

“Keith, I’m capable of doing my job. I don’t need you riding herd on me.”

He understood that. She just didn’t have as much at stake, and that made it difficult for him not to push. “Okay, I’ll let you go.”

“I’ll be back on the island tomorrow night,” she said. “We’ll talk then.”

He disconnected, but he wasn’t ready to call it a night. He took up the search he’d started before he left for Marcus’s house with renewed determination and purpose. It stood to reason that Hugh Pointer didn’t get what he’d come for. Thanks to Lana having someone notify the police, he didn’t have much time. And even though the doors to Josephine’s suite had been open when they should’ve been closed, suggesting Hugh had made it that far, Keith had searched her suite extensively the first two nights he was here and found nothing he recognized as valuable to the investigation. Not only that, but nothing in there had been disturbed since he discovered those letters. Unless Hugh knew exactly where to find what he was after, Keith figured there was at least an equal chance that he’d left empty-handed.

Problem was... Keith had no idea what “it” could be. He only knew the item was important, or Hugh wouldn’t have taken the risk of coming here immediately after Josephine’s murder.

Keith had gone through all the lived-in parts of the house—the kitchen and pantry, the drawing room, the living room, the library, the dining room, his mother’s atrium, her sitting room, the small art gallery and the entry area, and was currently working on the study. He hadn’t yet tackled the gym, the apartment over the garage or any of the guest rooms. Taking on the nether regions of the house felt like a daunting task. He couldn’t imagine that either his mother or her killer would’ve left anything there, anyway.

After emptying the shelves in the study, to no avail, he slumped into the chair behind the desk. What a waste of time and effort. It was nearly four. Pippa would arrive at eight. He doubted she’d be happy to find the house torn apart when she arrived. She’d definitely earn her paycheck over the next week as she put it all back together...

So what now? Did he go after the garage apartment? The guest rooms?

“Damn it! What were you after?” he shouted as he glowered at the empty bookshelves. Rocki was counting on him. He couldn’t let her down. He had to pull his family back together, and if he could prove that someone else murdered their mother, maybe he’d be able to do that.

Think.
Frustrated, he rubbed his temples as he stared at the empty bookcase. “Whatever it was, it’s not in here,” he grumbled and got up to leave. But a small book he’d knocked to the floor—a travel book on Perth—caught his attention, because it had a piece of paper or something jutting out like a bookmark.

He doubted that paper or whatever it was would be any more than a place marker or a few notes his mother had jotted down, but the fact that the book was about Hugh’s home city made him take a closer look.

And that was when he found it.

* * *

When Landon first woke Rocki, and she was staring up into his face during those few seconds, she smiled in relief. She thought everything that’d happened had been a nightmare. Here was her husband, the same as he’d always been. But then her memory returned, and she realized that nothing was the same. At her request, he’d spent the night on the couch again. And to make matters worse, Zac and Chloe had figured out that there was something serious going on. Although she’d attempted to reassure them, had told them the police were merely doing their jobs by searching the house, since they had to look at everyone who was close to “Grandma Josephine,” the kids had been oddly subdued. They’d begun to watch her and Landon with unease. They’d also noticed that their father wasn’t sleeping with their mother anymore.

“Why are you so mad at Daddy?” Chloe had asked Rocki. “What’d he do? Is everything okay? Are
you
okay?”

Rocki had told her that she and Landon were dealing with some “adult” business and they’d eventually work through it.

But she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. And now that Chloe had become aware of the turmoil under the surface of the polite exchanges between her parents, she couldn’t be fooled. She’d spoken to Brooklyn, which meant Rocki also had to soothe
her
fears. But at least Chloe tried to play along with them for the sake of her little brother, who seemed more willing to take them at their word.

“It’s Keith,” Landon said, holding up his cell phone.

“Where’s
my
cell?” Her words came out as a raspy croak; she had to clear her throat before she could speak in her normal voice.

“I haven’t seen it, but you didn’t answer. That’s why he called me.”

Sitting up, she pushed her hair out of her face as she pressed Landon’s phone to her ear. “Keith?”

“Rocki, I’m sorry to wake you, but...I had to tell you the news.”

He sounded excited, which brought the first glimmer of hope Rocki had felt in what seemed like a long time. “What is it?”

“I found some letters in a book in the study.”

“What kind of letters?”

“One from Lana Pointer to Mom, which proves Lana
did
know about the affair. And one to Lana that Mom was in the process of drafting.”

Rocki still felt groggy. “You—you found those in a book?”

“Yes. The book was on Perth, but it was a miracle I stumbled across it. I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t pulled everything off the shelves. Anyway, I’m guessing Mom hid them because she didn’t want Pippa or any of the other help to come across them. They were her own private business.”

Relief helped clear the cobwebs, and gave Rocki the energy to sit up. “Which means...what? I’m off the hook?”

“Maybe not completely, not yet. But it’s definitely a step in the right direction. This proves Hugh was lying when he said his wife didn’t know about Mom. It also proves that Lana was extremely upset over what she’d learned. You should read the letter. ‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from my husband... I won’t allow you to break up my family, or my marriage—not after more than forty years...’”

Rocki clutched at her comforter. “That gives Lana motive!”

“Yes. Some of this stuff—it could almost be interpreted as a threat.”

“What did Mom write in reply?”

“You know Mom. She was never one to back down from a fight. She says stuff like, ‘I told you last time that you can’t hold him forever,’ and ‘The only reason he’s still with you is because of Marliss, but she graduates this spring. Good luck then.’”

After being awakened from such a deep sleep, Rocki was still struggling to process everything she was hearing.
“Last time?”

“Yeah. I caught that, too. They’d obviously communicated before. I don’t know where those other letters could be. Mom probably burned them. I’ll bet the only reason I found this one is because she was still referring back to it. But the tension between them was definitely escalating.”

“I can’t believe Mom didn’t finish the letter and send it.”

“No doubt she saw the foolishness of riling Lana up just before Lana was supposed to go to Europe to act as chaperone for Marliss’s trip. If Lana canceled, Mom wouldn’t be able to see Hugh.”

“I bet Mom assumed she was finally winning the fight, if he was willing to have her come to his home
after
his wife found out about them.”

“She probably demanded that, thought she was on the brink of getting what she’d always wanted.”

The pieces of the puzzle Keith had presented to her were beginning to fall into place. “Thanks to Marliss’s graduation, it sounds like everything was coming to a head.”

“I bet Lana’s suspicion got the best of her, or something tipped her off that Mom and Hugh were going to meet up, and she left Europe to fly here.”

Landon stood, watching her expectantly, hopefully. “What is it?” he asked.

She gestured for more time. Keith was telling her that he was certain Hugh had come back to Coldiron House last Wednesday, looking for the letter or letters his wife had sent.

“So you don’t believe he was in on the murder.”

“No. He had nothing to gain from her death.”

“Peace at home. That’s something.”

“All he’d have to do was cut it off. Problem was, he didn’t want to give up either woman.”

“Then Lana came here on her own?”

“Here’s my theory. After Lana left for Europe, she was overwhelmed by suspicion. She might even have learned that she had
reason
to be suspicious, that Mom was coming to Australia. She’d already written more than one letter, asking Mom to back off, and knew she wouldn’t. So she decided to take matters into her own hands. She flew here, saw the packed luggage and the flowers from Hugh and lost it. She killed Mom. Then she called Hugh in a rage over ‘what he’d forced her to do.’”

“At which point
he
panicked and flew over here to make sure there was nothing connecting Lana to the crime scene, nothing that would lead the police to her,” Rocki added.

“Exactly. Because he’d caused the mess in the first place, he felt he needed to step in and protect Lana, or he was going to lose
both
women. Only I was home—something he didn’t expect so soon, since Mom and I were estranged—and he never got the chance to go through the house the way he planned.”

“Sounds plausible to me.” Rocki rubbed her face. Could the police—or Keith—solve Josephine’s murder?
Was
it Lana? Keith was certainly making a good case. “Wow. I’m so glad you found those letters. They could make a big difference.”

“You’re going to be okay, Rocki. I love you. Just hang in there.” There was a slight pause and then he said, “You probably don’t want to hear this, but regardless of Landon’s...
mistake
, I believe he loves you, too.”

She wasn’t going to argue with him while Landon was standing at the side of the bed. “Thanks. For everything.”

After she disconnected, Landon sat down next to her, careful not to touch her. “Well? What’d he say?”

She explained what Keith had found and what he thought it might mean.

“That’s hopeful, isn’t it?” he said.

She nodded and, for the first time, noticed how haggard Landon had become over the course of the past week. He hadn’t been sleeping. She could tell by the lines of tension and exhaustion in his face. He hadn’t been eating, either. She couldn’t remember when she’d seen him do more than push his food around the plate.

“Good,” he said, giving her a sad smile.

* * *

Keith called Nancy as soon as he got out of bed. Pippa had already come upstairs an hour ago and knocked softly at his door—shocked, no doubt, by the state of the house—but he’d refused to let her interrupt his sleep.

Nancy answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Seriously?” he said. “You’re holding a grudge?”

“No, of course not.”

He shoved a pillow behind his back. “Then why didn’t you come over last night?”

“Because I didn’t get your message until this morning.”

That made him feel slightly better. At least she wasn’t angry. “Would you have come over if you’d gotten it?” he asked and smiled when he heard her laugh.

“I’m sure I would have, since I’m here now.”

“Here...
where?
” Suddenly, he was afraid
she
was the one who’d knocked and not Pippa. He would’ve responded...

“On your beach, with Simba. I didn’t want to wake you too early.”

“So you haven’t been inside the house.”

“No.”

He pulled on a pair of basketball shorts so he could go to the front windows without fear of shocking Pippa, should he bump into her. Sure enough, Nancy’s car was parked in the drive. “What about work?”

“Marlene’s filling in for me today. Said she could use the extra hours. And I was interested in having some time off.”

The wind was playing havoc with their connection, but he was able to make out her words. “Perfect. Why didn’t I think of that yesterday? We could’ve spent the whole day in bed.”

“I’m not sure my boss would’ve liked that,” she teased.

He lowered his voice. “I can guarantee he would.”

“Are you coming out?”

“Yeah.” He could hear Pippa moving around downstairs. From the sound of it, she’d decided to reassemble the kitchen before turning her attention to the rest of the house, which made sense. It wouldn’t be easy to cook in the mess he’d left last night. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Once he’d quickly dressed, he went to acknowledge Pippa and found her in the pantry, putting away all the stuff he’d torn from the shelves. “Sorry about the mess,” he said.