Family Skeletons (24 page)

“Well, you sure took off in a hurry,” Ryan said.

“Where’s Jonathan?”

“He took off, too. Didn’t tell me where, just said
there was something he wanted to do.” He picked up the basket of clean laundry,
and then they both stood there until he gave her a pointed look. “Are you going
to go open the door? I’ve kind of got my hands full.”

She mounted the steps, held the door open for him,
and he led the way inside. Cat dodged between them, padded into the parlor and
hopped up into her favorite chair.

“Mavis called,” Ryan said. “And she was a tad on the
frantic side. As I would be, too, after that message of yours. I calmed her
down, told her everything we knew but nothing we’d surmised. Tom won’t be home
until late tonight.” He stopped, turned to look at her. “I don’t like waiting
on this. Maybe you should go ahead and call this guy Hendricks, whoever he is.”

“Not necessary. I already talked to Joyce. He was
doing his laundry, too.”

“Good.” He nodded decisively. “Then it’s out of our
hands and in his.” He looked up the stairs. “Where do you want this basket? Not
up there, I hope.”

She pointed to the front bedroom. “In there is fine.
It needs sorting.”

After putting the basket atop the ivory bedspread,
he gave her a studying look. Curiously, she looked back.

“What’s with you?” he asked. “You look like...” He
snapped his fingers as if the proverbial light bulb had switched on in his
mind. “A cat with a bowl full of cream. Joyce made a pass, didn’t he?”

Sunny’s mouth fell open.
How can you do that
?

He chuckled. “How about that? You hide out for four
years then attract two men at the same time.”

Floored, she scrunched her eyes closed.

“Hey, this has got to be good for the ego. And you
needed the boost. Sunny, sweetheart, I couldn’t be happier for you.”

She opened her eyes. “Will you stop?”

“So who’s it going to be? The doctor or the deputy
sheriff?”

She drew in a controlled breath. “Ryan, there are
times, like now, when you overstep yourself.”

His face sobered. One reason she’d always trusted
Ryan was that he heard more than mere words. As flippant as he could be at
times, he was always listening. He stepped forward to cup her shoulders. “I
couldn’t love you more even if you were my sister. You know that.”

She nodded, conveying that the brother and sister
feeling was mutual.

“Then listen carefully. Jonathan wants to talk to
you. When you left he wanted to go with you, but not because he didn’t want you
off on your own, which is how you probably took it. He’s not a spontaneous
person. He has to plan what he wants to say and then look for the opportunity
to say it. I think my presence here has gagged him, and I regret that. When he
returns, invite him to go for a walk on the beach. Or give me a signal and I’ll
go for a walk.”

She frowned. “When and where did you pick up on
this? I haven’t—”

“Trust me, Sunny. The man’s got something on his
mind. Something important.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Whatever Jonathan was doing, it was taking him a
while, which meant that Sunny had nothing to do but wonder where he was and
what he was up to. She’d given up on packing, had finished her book at the Laundromat,
and she didn’t feel like going for a walk. She watched football with Ryan for
as long as she could stand it, and then she got busy in the kitchen making a
potato salad.

Once done with that task she rejoined Ryan, who was
sitting on the sofa with his feet adorning the coffee table. She crossed in
front of him, chose the corner chair, propped her elbow on the arm and her chin
on her fist while she watched grown men fight over a football. And take time
out to regroup, then another time out, and then another one.

She went back to the kitchen and cut up all the
fruit she could find into another salad.

“Got some chips you could bring back with you,
Sunny?”

The fruit was healthier but if he wanted chips, he
could have chips. He accepted the wrinkled bag with his attention glued to the
set. He angled his head to see around her and then snapped it back the other
way when she went on to her chair.

“Awright!” The crowd roared at the same instant his
fist hit the arm of the sofa.

She glanced back
. Pitiful
.
Downright
pitiful
.

She reached for the newspaper, thumbed it, and when
she found the puzzle page she thought maybe she wouldn’t go crazy after all. But
when she got up to get a pencil so she could work the crossword puzzle, she
evidently passed in front of the TV set one too many times.

“Sunny, dammit, you’re like a yo-yo! Will you settle
somewhere?”

“Oh, for...” She figured her frown had to be as
severe as his. “You want me to settle? That’s your problem? We’ve got a
skeleton with a dented skull, a bloody baseball bat, a missing victim with at
least one murderer, maybe two, questions and puzzles all over the place and
you’re watching a stupid football game?”

“Yes. I’m watching a stupid football game and would
appreciate your settling down while I do it. It’s really not that hard. Shut
up, be still, and you’re halfway there.”

Sunny glared at the ceiling, blew her breath out in
a long exhale, then settled in the chair with her pencil and puzzle. At
halftime, Ryan surfed channels until he found another game that then also went
into halftime. He put the TV on mute and wandered toward the kitchen. She
watched the silent commercials; they were more interesting than the game was.

On his way back, Ryan came to a dead stop in the
middle of the doorway, a can of beer held inches from his mouth as he stared
into space as if hypnotized.

Sunny looked up. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s a grave,” he whispered.

His shock was contagious. Sunny rose. “What’s a
grave? What are you talking about?”

He set the can on top of the TV so fast that beer
sloshed out of it. “A shovel. I need a shovel.” He headed down the hall.

“Ryan!” She sprinted after him, caught up in the
utility room, slammed the outside door closed that he’d just opened and placed
herself in front of it. “What...are...you...doing?”

It took visible effort for him to stand still. His eyes
snapped at her.

“It’s a grave, Sunny, in that clearing in the trees.
The flowerbed is almost a perfect rectangle and nothing else is growing
anywhere else. Unless I miss my guess, that’s a grave and I’m going to prove
it. Now get out of my way.”

He elbowed her aside and went out the door. She
followed him to the tool shed. “Will you hold on a minute? If you’re right, you
need Tim Joyce. You can’t just go over there and—”

“Yes, I can. I might be wrong and I hope I am, but I
can’t, absolutely cannot, sit here and wait for some uniformed cop who’s out of
uniform to take it into his head to check his messages.”

The tool shed wasn’t equipped with electricity, and
impatiently Ryan mumbled while waiting for his vision to adjust to the dim
interior. Then he grabbed the one and only shovel that leaned against the wall,
checked the edge and frowned, then slammed the door shut.

“At least wait for Jonathan,” she suggested. “And
while we’re waiting, I’ll look for Tim Joyce’s number. This isn’t like you, to
go off half-cocked.”

He gave her an are-you-serious look, and then went
into long-winded mode. He didn’t often exhibit stress, but when he did he
expressed it through verbiage. “This isn’t like me? Just how many skeletons
have we discovered? Unless I’ve drastically lost count, it’s been one and this
would make two. How could either of us know how either of us would react in a
situation like this?”

She’d positioned herself in front of him, so he
walked around her. She wished she had a rope. She watched him, looked at the
house and then again at his fast-moving figure, swore loudly and ran after him.

“All right, Sherlock, suppose you find your
skeleton,” she said when she caught up. “Whose is it? Have you figured that out
yet?”

“Howard Wilkes.”

She stopped, but he didn’t. She ran again to catch
up. “Howard?”

“Think, Sunny, think. It adds up. It makes sense.
It’s the only answer that answers everything.”

“Bev?” she whispered, and stopped again. “Bev killed
Howard?” Then she had to break into another sprint. “Ryan, please, I can’t keep
up. Slow down.”

With visible effort he waited for her, then matched
his stride to hers. “She had equal access to whatever bats were around the
house. He might’ve guessed the baby wasn’t his and confronted her. Maybe she
swung at him in self-defense, probably did. However it happened, she panicked
and called Franklin for help. He had to have been in on it at some point
because he hid the bat.”

“Insurance,” she murmured. A stunned daze threatened
to overtake her, and she fought it back.

“Exactly. He helped her bury the body, and then he
stole the murder weapon.”

“So she was trapped. She couldn’t force his hand. As
long as he had that bat he had complete control over her.”

“But she snapped. In time, something made her snap
and she killed Franklin, too. But she was still trapped. She didn’t know where
the bat was that she’d killed Howard with.”

“I was right,” she said tonelessly. “Mavis and
Franklin’s affair was the catalyst. Bev had seen them together, guessed the
rest, confronted him and then lost it.”

The trees loomed. Sunny found herself wishing she’d
stayed behind. She didn’t want to discover another grave.

A rifle shot cracked and Ryan fell to his knees.

Without conscious thought, Sunny dropped with him.
“What—”

“The trees, Sunny. The trees. Get in there.”

“But...”

“Move!”

She half crawled and half rolled until she was in
the blessedly dark and safer shade. He was at her side.

“Ryan, are you...” She choked on the words,
mesmerized by the spreading stain in his shirt. “Blood,” she whispered. “You’re
bleeding.”

“I got shot, Sunny. Of course I’m bleeding.”

Still on their knees, they looked back across the
field toward the house and the pickup parked in front of it. Neither of them
had heard the vehicle approaching, but Bev now stood at the driver’s door,
rifle in hand.

She’s here because Joyce talked to her.
She’s running out of time and she knows it. She already saw the shovel so she
knows we’ve guessed.

And the shovel now rested behind them where Ryan had
dropped it when he’d been hit. They couldn’t even use it as a weapon.

His wound had dulled Sunny’s wits but seemed to have
sharpened his. His gaze darted everywhere. Then he pointed toward the beach.
“You go that way. I’ll lead her this way. Go.”

“I can’t leave—”

“You have to. You can’t get back to the house, and
she can cut you off from the road. You’ve got to get to the beach and then to
town that way. That’s our only chance.”

They scampered back several more feet before feeling
safe enough to stand upright. Ryan was bleeding from his left side. He wore a
long-sleeved shirt that he tore down the front, not taking time with buttons,
and with her help he pulled it off. She winced at the raw, ugly hole gaping in
his side. The blood was seeping steadily, but, thank goodness, wasn’t gushing.

“Help me with this, Sunny, then get out of here.” He
wadded the shirt and put it in place, and she tied the sleeves at the right
side of his back. Her fingers trembled.

“Okay. Now go,” he ordered.

“But...”

“But nothing!” He grabbed her arm and squeezed so
hard she winced. His eyes resembled hard gray marbles.

“Listen to me.” He bit off the words. “I think the
bullet went clean through, but I’m bleeding and will leave a trail. I can’t
move as fast as you can on your own. If you’re worried about me, then you need
to get help back here as soon as you can. Now get the hell out of here.”

She couldn’t think coherently. If he weren’t holding
on to her, she would’ve held on to him. “Ryan, I can’t—”

“It’s you she wants, dammit! I’ll be safer without
you than with you. Now go!”

Roughly he shoved her away, then started inland
toward the eucalyptus trees and the road. His walk was just short of a stagger.
She looked back across the field. Bev was almost halfway across it. With an
audible sob, Sunny turned and ran toward the ocean.

He’s on his feet. He was thinking
coherently. He’ll be all right
.

She tripped over a trailing root and sprawled
headlong, knocking the wind out of herself. Gasping, she got onto all fours,
then to her feet and took it slower. Panic wasn’t far away. She needed to slow
down in more ways than one.

The shirt padding may absorb the blood
and keep him from leaving a trail.

But Bev is going to expect us to go to
the road, not the beach. She’ll follow him anyway.

Uh-huh. That’s why he sent you this way,
dummy.

A shot rang out. Sunny froze.

No. No!

“Sunny?” Bev’s voice.

“This way,” Ryan hollered, and Sunny sagged in
relief at the sound of his voice.

“Sunny!” Bev sounded angry. “I don’t want your
friend, but I’ll go through him to get to you if I have to.”

“Why, Bev?” Ryan asked. His voice was mild, as if he
had nothing more on his mind than idle chitchat. “She didn’t do anything. It
was Franklin. Roberta, too, I guess. But Sunny had nothing to do with
anything.”

Their voices were a little distance apart. Bev could
easily zero in on him, but Sunny had to trust that he knew what he was doing.
Sunny had entered a dense cypress thicket and was trying to work her way out.
The limbs didn’t bend so she had to maneuver around and under and over.

“I’m out of time, but I don’t care anymore.” Bev’s
chilling lack of emotion lent credence to her words. “Matthew should get this
place, but I can’t do that for him. But I can make certain she doesn’t get it.
You didn’t know you had a brother, did you, Sunny?”

“Actually, we had figured that out, Bev.” Ryan
sounded closer to her. Was he stalking her now?

Get the rifle, and we’ll be home free.

“Matthew knows, too, doesn’t he?” Sunny called out.
She was giving away her position, but distracting Bev now seemed more to their
advantage. “But he doesn’t hate me like you do. In fact, I think he’s been
trying to protect me from you.”

Silence. Was Bev too smart to be distracted?

The ocean was getting louder and would mask
traveling sounds Sunny made, but would also cover Bev’s approach. One more tree
stood between Sunny and the edge of the ravine.

Goad her. You’ve got to find out where
she is
.

“There have been phone calls at strategic times,”
Sunny hollered. “Matthew must’ve missed you the day you pushed me off the cliff
and guessed you were out here. The men came after me and sent you running
because he’d called and asked for me.”

More silence.

“You gave him an alibi, as I remember, but it must
not have occurred to anyone that no one asked him to give you the same alibi.”

Still nothing from Bev.

Be careful, Sunny. You’re trying to play
her, but it seems she’s playing you instead.

But she went on anyway; what else could she do? “You
may hate the idea, but Matthew doesn’t seem to mind having a sister. Did he
guess, or did you tell him his father wasn’t the man you were married to? If
you did, that’s a tough thing to do to a kid. Had your hate warped you so much
that you lost consideration of him?”

Ryan, I haven’t heard anything from you
for a while. What are you up to?

As if in answer she heard a sudden sound of surprise
from Bev—a high-pitched squeal—and then another shot cracked. In the relative
silence between crashing waves, Sunny caught muted sounds of a struggle and
then a loud grunt of pain.