Drown Her Sorrows (Bree Taggert) Page 13

  “You do?” Matt went to the fridge and took out a glass container. His dad had separated meat, mashed potatoes, and carrots into three piles and smothered everything with gravy. Practically drooling, Matt put the container in the microwave.

  Cady nodded. “She adopted a dog from us a couple of months ago.”

  “What do you remember about her?” He punched in two minutes on the keypad and hit “Start.” The microwaved hummed.

  “Blonde. Short. About this tall.” Cady indicated a height with her hand level with her shoulder. “She was shy, almost introverted, but I liked her. She was sweet with the dog.”

  The microwave beeped, and Matt removed his dinner. The scent of his dad’s gravy filled the kitchen.

  “I matched her with a little dog, a super nervous type. We named him Chicken because he was so scared. I thought Shannon would be a good fit for him because her house would be quiet. She said she didn’t get much company and worked from home. Their personalities matched. She was skittish too.”

  Matt carried the steaming dish to the table. His sister sat across from him.

  “Want some?” He gestured to the food.

  “Are you kidding?” Cady rubbed her stomach. “Dad already fed me.”

  Matt dug in. “What else do you remember about Shannon?”

  “I felt really awful for her. Someone in her family was sick.” Cady lifted a finger and cocked her head, trying to remember.

  “Her mother.” Fork in hand, Matt stared at his food. Shannon Phelps would never have a homecooked meal prepared by her parent again.

  “What’s wrong?” Cady asked.

  “Shannon’s sister was killed.”

  “What?” Realization lit in Cady’s eyes. “The woman found at the Dead Horse Road bridge.”

  “Yeah. Keep her identity to yourself, OK?” Matt sighed and picked at his food. He needed to eat regardless of his appetite. “Shannon doesn’t need extra gossip on top of media attention.”

  “Sure. That’s horrible. She wanted the dog for company. I hope he helped.”

  “Me too,” Matt said.

  Soon, Shannon would have no family left in the world. She’d already lost her father and her sister. Her mother was dying. And someone had broken into her house to leave her a nasty message.

  Why? Matt could not think of a motivation to frighten Shannon.

  For one second, he considered what he’d do if someone hurt a member of his family. Then he pushed the thought away. It was too painful to even contemplate. While Bree was working hard to reconnect with her family, Matt had always had the support and love of his. When he’d been shot and his career abruptly cut off, it was his family who’d gotten him through the ordeal.

  “How was the dog adjusting?” Cady asked.

  “He was still nervous,” Matt said. “I doubt that’s going to change.”

  “I hope he isn’t too much for her to handle.” She frowned. “It can take months for a rescue’s true personality to come out. I’ll reach out to her and check up on him.”

  Cady took animal rescue seriously. She worried about every animal she placed. Adopters had to sign a form promising to return dogs to the organization if the placement didn’t work out.

  “I suspect she’s overwhelmed by her situation, not by the dog.”

  Cady pressed her lips together into an angry line. “I hope you find her sister’s killer.”

  Determination and empathy flooded Matt. Already damaged, Shannon’s life was in free fall because someone had murdered Holly. The sisters might not have seen eye to eye on their mother’s care, but they’d still had each other. There was nothing like family. Now Shannon was alone and facing another bout with grief.

  He stabbed a piece of meat. “Don’t worry. I will.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Bree parked her SUV next to the house. From there, she could see through the kitchen window. Dana opened the oven to check on dinner. Bree’s brother, Adam, pulled dishes from the upper cabinet, while Kayla gathered utensils from the drawer. Luke sat at the table, writing in a spiral notebook.

  The domestic scene punched Bree in the heart. She’d never had this in her entire life. She’d been separated from her siblings after their parents’ deaths and raised alone by a cousin. The absence of Adam and Erin in her childhood had been profound, and the isolation had left a mark. Bree had to work hard at maintaining personal relationships. She often had to force herself not to make quick decisions, but to step back and evaluate situations. Her instinct to withdraw from any relationship that could render her vulnerable was pure self-preservation, born of a lonely and traumatic childhood. Before her parents’ murder-suicide, she’d lived in an abusive and terrifying home. For most of her life, she’d had no one to rely on but herself.

  But she was an adult now, and she was determined to put the past behind her. Her own sister’s murder had taught her the importance of family. If only she’d learned that lesson before Erin had died.

  With tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, she slid out of the SUV and veered toward the barn. She rolled open the heavy door and turned on the light. Three heads greeted her. Riot, Luke’s bay gelding, nickered and kicked his stall door. Pumpkin bobbed his head, begging for a scratch or a treat. The sturdy little horse was definitely spoiled. She scratched him under his flaxen forelock on her way by. She grabbed a brush and slipped into Cowboy’s stall. The paint was a calm, patient beast. He didn’t move as Bree swept the brush over his coat in long strokes. “Your white patches are looking dingy. Did you roll in the mud today?”

  He shifted his weight. His eyelids drooped.

  “Maybe it’ll be warm enough for a bath this weekend.” Bree worked on a crusted patch of dried mud on his rump. Cowboy had excellent ground manners. He was unflappable on the trail. He wasn’t fancy, but he was a sound, sensible horse all around. Bree hadn’t been on a horse since she was a kid, but when she rode Cowboy for the first time after her sister’s death, she felt safe. He—and the other two horses—had been slaughter-bound when Erin had pulled them from the kill buyer’s pen. Bree stopped brushing and rested her forehead on Cowboy’s neck. “She loved you, you know. Erin was one of the kindest people I knew.”

  Cowboy wrapped his neck around Bree.

  She laughed. “I know you’re just checking my pocket for treats, but I’m going to pretend this is a hug.”

  The horse dropped his head and picked at his hay.

  Bree gave his shoulder a rub before leaving his stall, her heart just a little lighter. On the way to the house, she shook off her grief. Tonight, she would enjoy her family and savor the bonds forming between them. Shannon Phelps’s sorrow was a reminder that happiness could be ripped out from under one’s feet at any time. Nothing should be taken for granted. Every moment of happiness was a gift to be appreciated.

  Guilt prodded her. She owed her brother an apology. He’d asked one thing of her since she’d moved back to Grey’s Hollow: to go with him to the old Taggert place, the house where their father had shot their mother and then himself. And Bree had been putting it off for months, while Adam had done everything she’d asked of him.

  Bree walked in the door, shed her boots, and braced herself for Ladybug’s greeting. The big dog galloped over and slid on the tile. Bree caught the ungainly mutt before she slammed into the wall. Unfazed, the dog wagged her tail stump and snorted like a pig as Bree rubbed her ribs with both hands.

  Kayla waited until the dog bounced away, then moved in for a hug. Bree kissed her on the top of her head. She went to the table and did the same to Luke. On the outside, he seemed to tolerate her affection, but she knew that deep down, he needed it. Though Bree often felt like she floundered in her new parenting role, she was the best person for the job. She knew better than anyone else what it was like to live with the kind of sorrow Kayla and Luke had experienced.

  And she was determined to do right by them. They would not be cast off, isolated, and further damaged as she had been.

  Releasi
ng Luke, Bree gave her brother a peck on the cheek. Adam wore ripped jeans and a faded old T-shirt, both liberally streaked with paint. He was a very successful artist, but you’d never know it from his clothes. He had no interest in fancy anything. He’d driven the same ancient Ford Bronco for decades and lived in a converted barn he’d purchased solely for the light. Instead, he’d spent his money on Erin and her kids. He’d bought and maintained the farm Erin had wanted but never could have afforded on her income as a hairstylist. In that way, Adam had been a better sibling than Bree. But then, he and Erin had grown up together. They’d had a bond that Bree had been shut out of.

  Which also meant he’d probably felt Erin’s loss more acutely than Bree, something she had never considered before. Life was all about learning, she supposed. But she needed to learn faster. Some lessons always felt as if they came too late.

  “Wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.” Dana slid two homemade pizzas out of the oven. She took a cutter from the drawer and rolled it across the pies like a pro.

  Bree crossed to the sink and washed her hands. She glanced at Dana’s black silk blouse, bootcut jeans, and heeled shoes. “You look nice.”

  “I have a date.” Dana used a spatula to transfer slices to a platter.

  Bree took a can of seltzer from the fridge. “Deets now, please.”

  “It’s just coffee.” She shrugged. “We connected through a dating app.”

  “Seriously?” Bree felt her brows climb her forehead. “An app?”

  Dana deadpanned. “Believe it or not, Grey’s Hollow is not a hotbed of dating activity.” She tossed the cutter in the sink. “Not everyone meets a total hottie on her first day in town.”

  “I’ll give you that one.” Bree snorted. Her relationship with Matt had been a complete surprise. “Be careful. Text me his picture and contact info.”

  “I’m meeting him at a coffee shop. I’ll go early, so he doesn’t know where I park.” Dana tugged on her jeans at the thigh, lifting the hem so Bree could see the handgun strapped to her ankle. “And I’m fully accessorized. I’ve got this.”

  “OK. I believe you.” Bree joined the kids and Adam at the table.

  Dana had said she enjoyed her new life with Bree and the kids after two and a half decades of dealing with criminals all day long. But sometimes Bree forgot how much her friend had given up to help the Taggert family. She must be lonely.

  Dana frowned at Bree. “You haven’t changed clothes. Does this mean you’re going back to work tonight?”

  “Matt and I are staking out a suspect’s house.” Bree thought about leaving Luke to babysit Kayla. At sixteen, he’d be old enough in any normal household, but she hesitated. They all had experienced too much violence to have a completely normal life.

  “I can cancel my date,” Dana offered.

  “I don’t want you to do that—” Bree said. She should have asked Dana before she’d arranged this stakeout. But she’d assumed her friend would be home, which was selfish.

  “No need,” Adam interrupted. “I’ll hang with the kids.”

  Bree smiled at her brother. “Thanks, Adam. I can get Kayla ready for bed before I go.”

  “But I want to stay up with Adam and Luke!” Kayla protested.

  Bree stifled the urge to say no. It was a school night, but exceptions had to be made. Kayla had suffered so much loss in her short life. She needed the opportunities to experience joy, even for something as simple as staying up past her bedtime once in a while.

  “OK,” Bree said. The little girl would probably fall asleep on the couch anyway.

  Happy, Kayla chattered through the meal, while Bree interrogated Luke about his day. At least that’s how it felt. As usual, the teen was reluctant to provide many details, and Bree had to drag the information out of him. When dinner was over, Bree and Adam cleaned up the kitchen. Dana fluffed her hair, freshened her makeup, and left for her date.

  Bree grabbed a windbreaker and said goodbye to the kids.

  “Pick a movie,” Adam called over his shoulder as he followed her out onto the porch. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows. Dark clouds hovered in the distance.

  “There’s a storm coming.” He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and squinted at the sky.

  “Thanks again, Adam.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. We’re family, right?”

  “Yeah. We are.” Bree faced him. “Which brings me to my apology. It’s been two months since you asked me to go back to the house with you. I’ve been avoiding it. I’m sorry.”

  Back in March, Adam had floored her by announcing he’d purchased their run-down, needing-to-be-condemned childhood home. The same home in which their entire lives had been shattered twenty-seven years before.

  The place where their father had killed their mother.

  Bree looked away, then realized that was just another avoidance. She forced herself to meet her brother’s gaze.

  “I understand, Bree.” Adam’s hazel eyes, the exact color of her own, didn’t blink. “I won’t make you go there. I’m sorry I even asked. It was selfish of me. I didn’t fully realize how difficult it would be for you. You remember everything.” And she knew he was desperate to remember anything at all about the parents who had died when he was an infant.

  “You have no reason to apologize. I need to face that house. I just wish it wasn’t taking me so long to work up the nerve.” Bree felt her face heat, even as dread pooled cold in her belly. As much as she recoiled at the thought of returning there, her own cowardice embarrassed her.

  Adam put a hand on her arm. “It’s OK. The house will still be there whenever you’re ready.”

  They had both grown over the past four months. Adam had been emotionally distant, a defense mechanism like Bree’s need to control everything. But when she’d demanded a place in his life and help raising their sister’s kids, he’d stepped up without a single complaint.

  “I promise we’ll go soon.”

  “That’s good enough for me.” He turned and walked back into the house.

  Bree slid behind the wheel of her SUV. She drove toward Matt’s house and the thickening clouds, mentally preparing to stake out the home of a potential killer.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Matt drove his Suburban toward Paul’s house. Bree’s marked vehicle was not suitable for a stakeout, especially if they might need to follow Paul at some point. Through the windshield, the sun dipped low, and Matt lowered his visor to counter the glare. In the rearview mirror, dark clouds gathered behind them.

  “Can you believe Dana is having coffee with a guy she met on a dating app?” Bree asked from the passenger seat.

  “Those apps are popular.”

  “I guess.” Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. “Did you ever date someone from an app?”

  “No.”

  Bree was the first person he’d dated in three years—since the shooting.

  “Beckett’s bank statements are in,” Bree said. “Todd reviewed them.”

  Matt sipped coffee from a stainless-steel mug. “What’s his financial situation?”

  “That’s the interesting thing.” She scrolled. “Deb was right—his bank balances are down across the board. Don’t get me wrong. He’s still rich. But it’s not clear where the money is going.”

  Matt set his mug in the console. “He said he and his wife were separated. Could he be paying an attorney?”

  “This has been happening for the last two years. His wife only left a couple of months ago.” Bree tapped her phone screen. “Todd says some of the withdrawals were cash.”

  “Cash? Maybe he’s making payments to his wife?”

  “But why cash?” Bree asked. “Surely, if he was giving his estranged wife or his lawyer money, he’d want a record of it.”

  “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense.” Matt put both hands on the steering wheel and tapped it with his thumbs.

  The GPS told them that their destination was ahead on the right. M
att checked the map on the dashboard screen. The Beckett house was around the next bend in the road. “I’d better pull over here.”

  Bree fished into a duffel bag at her feet for a camera with a telephoto lens. “Nice little country estate.” Her radio squawked on her duty belt, and dispatch relayed information about a minor car accident. She lowered the volume.

  Matt steered toward the shoulder of the road, concealing the SUV in the shadow of the roadside trees. He squinted through the windshield. “Do you see what I see?”

  With a solid, square front, the big stone home stood at the end of the driveway like an English manor. The blacktop formed a circle in front of the house, then curved around to a detached garage.

  Behind the garage, tall fencing surrounded a tennis court.

  “Bingo. A tennis court.” Bree raised her camera. The lens whirred as it focused. “I don’t see any sign of life in the house.”

  The landscape lights were on, but the house sat dark.

  Matt scanned the front of the property. “His truck is probably in the garage.”

  He turned off the engine, and they settled in to watch and wait. Bree lowered her camera into her lap. The wind gusted, shaking leaves off surrounding trees. Matt drank his coffee, grateful to be inside the vehicle. He watched Paul’s house and scanned the property for movement.

  “There.” Bree raised her camera again. She snapped a picture. “It’s Paul. He’s leaving the house.”

  Matt straightened in his seat. He watched Paul enter his detached garage through a side door. Matt started the engine. The overhead garage door rolled up, and a Maserati sedan backed out. “That’s not going to be hard to follow.”

  The car turned onto the road in the opposite direction, but Matt still waited to pull out. He followed far enough behind Paul that his taillights were just visible. They drove for about fifteen minutes before Paul turned into the entrance for a small office complex. Matt killed the headlights before following his vehicle.

  Most of the buildings were dark as Paul drove toward the back of the complex. Matt cruised to a stop, the end of his Suburban hidden behind the corner of a building. He kept a football field of asphalt between his SUV and Paul’s car. “Can you see him? I don’t want to get closer. We’re too conspicuous in this empty lot.”