Drown Her Sorrows (Bree Taggert) Page 24

  Matt’s gaze fell to the broken phone screen and dropped to the spots of blood. His heart contracted. “We have to find Cady.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Worried, Bree called for backup. The broken phone and blood made Cady’s house a likely crime scene. Bree looked at Matt. “Two things. One, Cady could have fallen and hurt herself. Maybe she called a friend to take her to the ER.”

  “She would probably have called me or my brother, but my mom is calling her friends just in case.”

  Bree continued. “Two, I know this link to our current murder case is disturbing as hell, but we shouldn’t make assumptions. Is there anyone else in your sister’s life who might cause her harm?”

  Matt stopped pacing. “Maybe her ex. Cady ran into him this week. She said it was weird. I can’t think of anyone else. Cady spends ninety percent of her time with her rescues or working in my brother’s studio.”

  Matt’s phone rang. “It’s my brother.” He answered the call. “Yes, Nolan? Damn. OK. Good idea. Keep me in the loop.” He ended the call and turned back to Bree. “None of Cady’s students have seen her. Nolan is going to drive around to her favorite spots.”

  Brody sat at Bree’s feet, looking up at her with dark, soulful eyes. He gave her another thin, sad whine. She stroked his head. If she didn’t have a crisis in front of her, she would have been in awe at her lack of fear, and very impressed with herself for picking up the leash. While she’d been searching Cady’s bedrooms, Brody had made her feel more secure, not less.

  The barking from Cady’s dogs, however, was making the hair on her arms stand straight up.

  Brody pulled on the leash and looked back at Bree.

  “Go ahead,” Bree said and dropped the leash.

  Brody went to Matt and pawed at his leg. Matt patted his dog. “We’ll find her.”

  A few minutes later, a patrol car pulled up to the curb. Bree put Deputy Collins in charge of using a field test to confirm the substance on the driveway was actually human blood. She also put out a BOLO on Cady.

  She turned to Matt. “Do you want to go see Cady’s ex or Shannon Phelps first?”

  Matt closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them, his face was drawn and tight. “Greg’s place is the closest. We’ll stop there first. If she’s not there, we’ll go on to Shannon’s.”

  Leaving Collins in charge of the scene, Bree, Matt, and Brody climbed into the SUV. Agitated, Brody paced the back seat.

  “What can you tell me about Cady’s relationship with her ex?” Bree asked.

  Matt drove away from his sister’s house. “I didn’t like Greg the first time Cady introduced him.” Barely slowing the vehicle, he steered around a bend in the road. “He seemed emotionally stunted to me, a boy in a man’s body. He did some modeling and followed a strict diet. If Cady ate anything that wasn’t grilled chicken breast or broccoli, he’d comment. Cady’s never been overweight, but she isn’t a waify-model type either.” He lifted a broad hand and frowned at it. “The Flynns are not small people.”

  No kidding.

  He continued. “I didn’t want to get between her and Greg, but more importantly, I didn’t want to put her in a position where she ever felt like she had to choose between a boyfriend and her family.” Regret tightened Matt’s face. “She’s a grown woman. It wasn’t my place to tell her who to date. And I knew she wouldn’t take his shit for long. They only dated for a couple of months when she found out she was pregnant.”

  “So, that complicated everything.”

  “Yeah. Cady was thrilled. To be fair, the pregnancy seemed to make Greg act like an adult. He started cooking for her instead of encouraging her to eat practically nothing.” He swallowed, darkness coming over his eyes. “She was four months along when they skipped off to Vegas and came back married.” His lips pressed in a tight line. “At just over five months, Cady lost the baby, and Greg went back to being a jerk.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Matt shook his head. “Greg blamed Cady, even though it was no one’s fault.”

  Bree couldn’t hold back her anger. “What an ass.”

  “Yeah. As upset as Cady was, she knew he was off base. She left him.”

  Bree sensed the story wasn’t over.

  “Greg took the breakup like a nasty four-year-old who was angry because someone had taken away one of his toys. He followed her. He harassed her. He alternated between sending her flowers and leaving nasty notes on her car.” Matt shook his head. “Even grieving, Cady did everything right. She used her head and got a restraining order. I tried not to get involved. I tried very hard.”

  “Until?”

  “Greg crossed the line. He started following her, always staying just beyond the required hundred feet. Cady looked out her window one night, and he was parked just up the road. He was watching her. She called the sheriff’s department, but Greg was more than a hundred feet away. Technically, he was obeying the order.”

  With a man like that, a restraining order was about as useful as cardboard body armor.

  Bree fumed. “He wanted to punish her.”

  “Cady was grieving, and the man who should have been supporting her was acting like a dick.” Matt swallowed. “I’m not particularly proud of what I did next.”

  “You encouraged him to leave her alone?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go with that. I strongly encouraged him to leave Cady alone.” He curled a hand into a fist. “He never bothered Cady again.”

  I’ll bet he didn’t.

  Some people only respected physical superiority.

  Bree glanced at Matt’s profile. It wasn’t just his height and coloring that always brought Vikings to mind. He was big-boned and powerful-looking, from his square jaw to his hands. She could easily picture him swinging a broadsword or battle-ax.

  Matt’s fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel.

  “I assume you know where he lives?” she asked.

  “I might keep track of him.”

  Bree turned on the dashboard computer. “What’s his last name?”

  “Speck.”

  Bree confirmed his address with Matt. “Gregory Speck, age thirty-eight. No priors. Except for that restraining order you mentioned, his criminal record is clean.”

  “What does he do for a living?”

  “He works at a gym.”

  Matt parked and they stepped out into the street. Bree smelled rain in the damp night air. She squinted at the sky, where clouds drifted like heavy fog in front of the moon. More storms were forecasted. Rain washed away evidence.

  “Hold on.” She opened the back of the vehicle and removed their vests.

  Matt waited, impatience vibrating through his body. She tossed her sling into the back of the vehicle and shrugged into the vest. Her bullet wound throbbed. Matt put on his own armor and helped her with the straps of hers. Then he turned toward the house.

  “Hold on.” Bree stepped in front of him and held out both hands. “You wait here.”

  Matt folded his arms across his chest and glared at Greg’s front door.

  “Please,” she said. “Your presence will not make him more cooperative, and you’re wasting time.”

  Matt returned to the SUV. He used the ramp to let Brody out of the back seat and stood in the street with the dog at his side. She sighed. Matt and Brody were damned threatening even from a distance.

  Bree wasn’t in uniform, but she was wearing her badge on her belt, and her marked SUV was parked at the curb. She knocked on the door. The man who answered it was about six feet tall with the chiseled face and body of a male model. He coughed into his fist, the sound wet and nasty. Bree took a quick step backward.

  “Mr. Speck, I’m Sheriff Taggert.” She showed her badge. “When was the last time you had contact with your ex-wife, Cady Flynn?”

  He didn’t answer. His gaze lifted over her shoulder. He bristled and stepped forward.

  Bree assumed he’d seen Matt.

  Brody barked, and Greg’s
forward motion stopped as if he’d hit a force field. “Get him off my property,” he said to Bree without taking his eyes off Matt.

  Bree glanced over her shoulder. Matt was still in the street.

  “He isn’t on your property,” she said.

  Greg walked out of his house, letting the screen door slap shut behind him. His chest puffed as he pointed and yelled at Matt, “Get the hell out of here, or I’ll sue you!”

  “For what?” Bree asked. “He’s on public property.”

  A vein in Greg’s forehead pulsed.

  “Mr. Speck.” Bree commanded his attention. “I’m looking for Cady Flynn. Have you seen her?”

  “No.” He jabbed his finger at Matt again, then did a quarter turn to face Bree again. “Did he say I did something?”

  “No. But Cady is missing. We’re checking with all of her acquaintances. You’re just one person on the list. We know you saw her at the pet supply store.”

  His eyes went small and mean as he glared down at her. “That was an accident. Before I ran into her there, it’d been, like, six years since I’ve seen her. I wrote her off a long time ago.” He jerked his chin at Matt. “Cady and me might have gotten back together if he didn’t interfere.”

  “Where were you tonight?” Bree asked.

  “Home.” He backtracked to his door and yelled, “Jenn, get out here!”

  A brunette appeared behind the screen door. She held a baby on her hip. She was a tiny thing, and young. Really young. In ripped jeans and a T-shirt with a spit-up stain on the shoulder, she didn’t even look old enough to be served at a bar.

  “Come out here,” Greg commanded. “Tell them I was here all evening.”

  Jenn pushed the screen door open and stepped outside. She nodded, her eyes huge, dark, and just a little fearful. Her voice quivered as she said, “He’s been here all week. He’s just getting over the flu.”

  Greg propped his hands on his hips and squared off with Bree. “Get off my property or I’ll call my lawyer. I’ll sue the sheriff’s department for harassment.”

  If not for the flu germs, Bree would have gotten in his face. She would not be intimidated by this jerk. “Do you want to take this discussion down to the station?”

  He glared at her. Bree maintained eye contact.

  Ten seconds later, he backed down. “Like Jenn said, I’ve been here all week.”

  Typical bully. He didn’t have the courage to face someone who would stand up to him.

  “Thank you for your time,” Bree said.

  Greg waved an angry hand at his front door. “Go inside.”

  Jenn dropped her gaze to the ground and scurried back into the house. Greg followed her. He shut the door with a firm bang.

  Bree hurried back to her vehicle. Matt’s eyes were flat and cold. He loaded the dog into the SUV and jumped into the driver’s seat. The SUV shot away from the curb with a small squeal of tires.

  “He’s an ass,” she said. “But I don’t think he took Cady. He looked genuinely confused when I asked about her.” Bree grabbed the door handle as Matt barely slowed for a bend in the road.

  “I agree.” Matt was trying to maintain his cool, but Bree could sense emotions gathering inside him like the storm clouds thickening in the sky. Tension corded the muscles in his forearms and neck, and his jaw was clenched tight.

  She couldn’t blame him for losing control. She remembered her sister’s call asking Bree for help, the burning anxiety in her gut on the long drive from Philly to Grey’s Hollow, and the punch of grief when she’d learned Erin was dead.

  Please, don’t let anything terrible happen to Cady.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Shannon Phelps’s house was dark when Matt parked down the street. Worry burned in his belly as if he’d swallowed fire. They stepped out of the vehicle. Wind gusted, and dead leaves tumbled along the gutter. Overhead, the sky darkened with thickening clouds.

  Matt let Brody out of the back. He slid the ramp back inside and closed the door. “I don’t know whether I should hope she’s inside or not. If she isn’t, we have no idea where to look.”

  Or who might have taken her.

  His scarred hand ached. He looked down to discover he’d been clenching his hands into tight fists. He uncurled his fingers and flexed.

  Stop freaking out. Keep a clear head and find Cady.

  They walked up to Shannon’s front door and flanked the doorway. Bree raised a hand and knocked. Inside, they could hear Shannon’s little dog barking. It must have been confined, because the sound stayed in the back of the house.

  Bree rang the doorbell. It chimed inside. The dog barked louder. Matt cupped his hands over his eyes and peered through a window next to the door. He saw no one in the dark foyer.

  He jogged around the side of the house and looked through the garage window. Empty. He returned to the front step. “Her car isn’t here.”

  Bree stepped back and scanned the front of the house. “Now what?”

  Matt paced while Brody watched him. “If Cady was here, Brody would know.”

  Bree’s phone rang, and she pulled it from her pocket. “It’s Dana.” She answered. “Hey. I’m putting you on speaker. Matt is here.” She pressed a button and held her phone between her and Matt.

  “I found several more fake payable accounts,” Dana said. “In addition to the two owned by Paul’s sons, two more are owned indirectly by Paul himself. You’ll never guess who owns the last one.”

  “Who?” Bree asked.

  “Shannon Phelps,” Dana said. “About thirty thousand dollars went into that account over the past year.”

  Matt looked up at Shannon’s house. “Holly did the payables. She must have known what Paul was doing. What if she was blackmailing him?”

  “That would explain her late-night phone call and the brief visit to his house,” Bree said.

  “We already suspected Paul liked to buy people with envelopes full of cash,” Matt added.

  Bree frowned. “Maybe Holly decided that wasn’t enough. She really liked to spend money. Maybe she started funneling some money to her sister.”

  “But why use her sister?” Matt asked. “Why not just put the company in her own name?”

  “Too easy to trace.” Bree shook her head.

  “So, was Shannon in on it?” Dana asked.

  Matt turned back to the house. “She must have been. But why would she have taken Cady?”

  A few seconds of silence ticked by.

  “Do you have anything else for us, Dana?” Bree asked.

  “No,” Dana said. “I’ll call you if I do.”

  “Thanks.” Bree lowered her phone. “How does all of this translate to Shannon killing Holly?”

  “I don’t know.” Matt resumed his pacing. “Shannon had an alibi for Paul’s murder.”

  “Maybe Angela killed Paul.”

  “But why would Shannon kill Holly?”

  Bree grimaced. “Shannon was angry that Holly wanted their mom to go into hospice. We learned that the very first time we talked to her.”

  Matt glanced back at the house. “We know Cady called Shannon. Maybe she remembered something about her. Something incriminating.”

  “What could Cady know?”

  Matt shook his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t have time to analyze all the data. Cady is missing. I’m going into that house to see if Shannon left any clues of where she was going. You don’t have to come with me.”

  It was a gamble. They had no probable cause, other than the fake account in Shannon’s name collecting money from Beckett Construction. But they had no way to connect that activity to Cady’s disappearance. But Matt didn’t care. He’d do whatever was necessary to find his sister.

  Bree stared at him. “We’re doing this together.”

  “Are you sure? You could get sued.”

  “Cady is more important,” Bree said. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “The alarm will go off.”

  “And the alarm company will ca
ll my department.” Without hesitating, Bree pulled her flashlight from her pocket and used the handle to break a small window near the front door. She reached in, unlocked the door, and opened it.

  They both halted, waiting for the alarm to sound. Most security systems allowed only thirty seconds to a minute to turn them off.

  But they heard nothing. Matt looked for the alarm panel. The lights were green. “She didn’t turn on the alarm.”

  “If she’s the one who killed Holly, then she doesn’t have a reason to be afraid.”

  “The break-in here and doll in the sink were fake,” Matt said.

  “It’s possible she wanted to throw off the investigation. If that was her goal, I’m sorry to say it worked.”

  He led Brody inside, making sure the dog didn’t step on broken glass.

  Bree drew her weapon, and they swept through the house. Brody’s presence made the search quick and easy. He’d been trained to clear rooms, and he could sense people who were hiding.

  Back downstairs, Bree stood in Shannon’s kitchen, her gaze scanning the room.

  “I’ll look in the home office.” Matt walked toward the small study.

  “Wait.” Bree picked up a framed photo of the two girls with their softball bats and balls on the shelf. She looked up at Matt, her gaze stunned. “I’ve figured out what was bugging me about Shannon’s last interview. Now everything makes sense.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Bree shoved the picture at Matt and pulled out her phone. Nerves roiled inside her. She wavered between horror at what she was thinking and exasperation that she could have missed something so basic.

  Matt took the photo. “What is it?”

  “Give me a second. I want to verify this. It feels crazy.” Bree called Dana. “Could you open the murder book? Find a picture of Holly with her sister as kids. Would you take a picture of it and send it to me?”

  “Sure,” Dana said. “Anything else?”

  “No.” Bree ended the call and waited. A few seconds later, her phone beeped. She stared at the image on her screen. Next, she called the sheriff’s station. A deputy answered. “I want you to access the video recording of the interview with Shannon Phelps. Stop at the spot when she signs the Miranda acknowledgment, take a photo of the screen, and text it to me.”