ScandalandSin (22 page)

Alaina didn’t understand what the ghost was
trying to tell her. “I don’t know what you want.”

Laura held up three fingers.

Alaina felt like stomping her foot in
frustration. She wished Laura could talk. “Three what?” Suddenly, it clicked in
her mind. “You mean the paintings, don’t you?”

Laura nodded. Once again, she held her arms
out and brought her hands together, fingers interlocked.

“You want the paintings joined?”

Laura nodded even harder.

“How?”

The ghost vanished.

“Well, shit,” Alaina muttered. “I wish
you’d stick around longer.”

She hurried down the stairs, eager to tell
Rye what happened. She found him in the living room with his brothers and
Vince. He gave her a quick smile before turning his attention back to Vince.
She wandered into the dining room for something to drink while he finished the
conversation with his glazer.

The sound of a pickup starting signaled
Vince’s exit. She downed the rest of her Dr Pepper as Rye came around the
corner.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Not yet. Come with me.”

She led Rye back to the living room. Alaina
walked to the corner by the front door, where Rye had leaned the three
paintings against the wall and covered them with a plastic tarp. Picking them up,
she carried them to the piece of plywood that Rye used as a makeshift desk.

“I just saw Laura again upstairs.” She laid
the paintings on the plywood, end to end. “She told me the paintings have to be
put together.”

“Put together how?” Rye asked.

“I don’t know. She vanished again before I
could get that information from her.” Rye stood to her right, Dax and Griff to
her left. “Y’all know this area. What’s special about these, or what do they
have in common?”

“They’re all of the river,” Griff said.

Dax nudged him in the ribs. “Way to be
obvious there, bro.”

Griff frowned. “Okay, smartass, what do
you
think ties them together?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

Alaina tapped one finger against her lips
as she studied the three paintings. She changed the order, hoping something
would jump out at her.

Nothing.

She changed the order again. When she still
saw nothing special, she started to change the order once more. Rye laid his
hand over hers before she could.

“Wait. Look at those rocks at the bottom of
these two paintings.”

As separate paintings, the rocks simply
looked like rocks. Together, they seemed to fit and formed a shape. “What is
that?”

“Look at this,” Griff said. He pointed to a
shape at the top of the third painting, the one closest to him. “It looks like
the rocks in the other paintings.”

Alaina pushed the two paintings forward on
the plywood. Griff placed his in the middle of the others. A shape formed from
the three, a shape that wasn’t just a pile of rocks.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It looks like…” Rye stopped and turned
around. He pointed across the room. “That.”

Alaina, Dax and Griff also turned to see
where Rye pointed. The white rock fireplace in the living room looked exactly
like the object in the paintings.

Dax shivered. “Goose bumps just popped out all
over me.”

“What does this mean?” Alaina asked Rye.

“I think it means we’ll find something
inside the fireplace.”

The fireplace would be torn down when the
living room was refurbished, but that wouldn’t be for several weeks. That’s
what Rye had told her. “So do we tear apart the fireplace early?”

Rye looked at his brothers. “What do y’all
think?”

Dax grinned. “I say we get the mallets.”

“Alaina?” Rye asked her. “What do you want
us to do?”

The fireplace had already started
crumbling, so Alaina figured taking mallets to it now would be a head start to
tearing it down for replacement. “Go for it.”

She stood back while the three brothers
began the demolition process. Rocks tumbled, mortar fell to the floor in
chunks. Dust floated in the air, covering the guys in a fine coat of white. She
could tell they put all their strength behind their swings, but were also
careful not to damage whatever might be hidden inside the fireplace.

Alaina had no idea how much time passed
until Dax stopped swinging his mallet. “I think I found something.”

Heart pounding, she moved closer to the
fireplace as the guys picked up hammers and chisels for closer work. Dax
reached inside the hole he’d made and withdrew something wrapped in burlap.

He handed it to Rye. “It’s too small for another
painting.”

Alaina stepped up next to Rye as he
unwrapped the bundle. A knife with a wooden handle lay inside the burlap.

“Holy shit,” Griff breathed. “Do you think
that’s the knife that killed Laura?”

“Yeah, I do.” Careful to keep the burlap
over the knife so he wouldn’t touch it with his bare hand, Rye examined the
antique weapon. “The hilt is broken on one side. I’ll bet this brown stuff in
the wood is blood.”

Alaina crossed her arms over her stomach,
suddenly cool despite the heat still lingering in the house. “What do we do
with it?”

“Take it to our sheriff. Brad can send it
off for DNA testing. I’m sure Laura’s blood is on it, but maybe the killer’s is
too. Our grandfather is still alive. His blood can be compared with the blood
on the knife to see if it’s a match. If it isn’t—and I’m sure it won’t
be—that’ll prove his father didn’t kill Laura.”

“I don’t understand why Laura didn’t just
point me to the fireplace. Why the whole deal with the paintings?”

“Maybe there’s a clue in the paintings we
missed.”

Alaina walked back to the plywood, followed
closely by the brothers. There had to be something, something that would solve
the mystery of Laura’s murder once and for all.

“Too bad we can’t make out the signature,”
Griff said.

Alaina had thought that with the first
painting she’d seen. Where a signature should be was nothing but a series of
little loops, almost like backward letters.

She drew in a sharp breath. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Rye asked.

“I’ll be right back.”

Alaina hurried into the dining room and
located her purse on one of the tables. She dug through a side pocket and
withdrew her folding mirror. Clutching it in her hand, she jogged back to the
living room.

“Alaina,” Rye said, “what are you doing?”

“Watch.” She held the mirror behind one of
the loops on the painting. “The signature is a mirror image of the artist’s
real name.”

Each brother closed in so they could all
see the name in the mirror.

bella

Chapter Seventeen

April 29, 1937

My sister is dead. Laura is dead.

I can barely write these words for my
hand is shaking so hard and I’m sobbing. I feel as if my heart has been ripped
out of my chest. My best friend is gone. No more late night talks about boys.
No more rolling each other’s hair. No more borrowing each other’s clothes. All
that has been stripped away by a man with a knife.

My first thought was that
he
did
it, but his daughter swore he’d been with her the entire afternoon. How
convenient that his wife was out of town and couldn’t back up his alibi.

Raymond Coleman was arrested for the
murder. My father said Raymond was found standing over Laura’s body, holding a
bloody knife in his hand. I can’t believe that sweet man killed my sister. It
doesn’t make any sense.

Whoever killed Laura will pay. I won’t
rest until he does.

* * * * *

Alaina slipped into the front seat of Rye’s
car while Dax and Griff took the back seat. “Are you sure we should just show
up at Bella’s house without calling?”

“I did call.” Rye drew the seat belt over
his chest. “I talked to Susan. She said Bella was in a meeting with her
attorney, but would be finished by nine-thirty. She has nothing else scheduled
until this afternoon.”

Glancing at the digital clock on Rye’s
dash, she saw it read 9:25. Since it took less than ten minutes to get to
Bella’s house, they would arrive as she finished her meeting.

“Did you tell Susan we’re coming?” Griff
asked.

“I told her
I’m
coming. I didn’t
mention anyone else.”

“She’ll get all huffy and deny knowing
anything.”

“Probably.” Rye turned the key and the car
purred to life. “But we aren’t leaving her house until we get answers.”

The drive took eight minutes. Alaina
slipped her hand into Rye’s as he led the way to the front door. He pressed the
doorbell with his free hand and gave her an encouraging smile.

“Everything will be fine. We’re here for
the truth, and that can’t hurt us.”

She hoped he was right.

Susan answered the door to Rye’s ring. Her
eyes widened as her gaze swung to Alaina and the brothers. It obviously shocked
her to see four people when she was expecting one.

“Good morning, Susan,” Rye said.

“Good morning. Mrs. Olinghouse is in the
living room. I’ll tell her y’all are here.”

“That’s okay. We’ll announce ourselves.”

He brushed by a sputtering Susan and turned
to the left. Bella stood by one of the large windows, looking out at the
backyard. She was dressed impeccably in an ivory suit and pearls, but seemed so
much smaller today. She appeared sad and alone. Rye had told Alaina that
Bella’s three children rarely visited her, and Rufus was the only grandchild
who stayed close.

She might own half the county, but that
money didn’t keep her family close to her.

“Mrs. Olinghouse,” Rye said softly.

Bella straightened her shoulders before she
turned. Surprise flickered in her eyes, but she quickly masked it. Her chin
came up an inch. “I wasn’t aware your brothers and Ms. May would be coming too,
Mr. Coleman.”

“We decided it was important that we all
come to talk to you.”

“Oh? For what reason?”

He motioned toward her “throne”. “Perhaps
you would like to sit down?”

She shook her head. “I prefer to stand.
What is the meaning of this visit, Mr. Coleman?”

Dax withdrew the three paintings from their
plastic cover and spread them out over the large table in the center of the
seating arrangement by the windows. Bella’s skin was light to begin with, but
all the color drained from her face. Alaina tensed, ready to make a grab for
the older woman in case she fell.

“We found these in Stevens House,” Rye said
to Bella. He pointed to the signature at the bottom of one of the paintings.
“Is this you? Did you paint these landscapes?”

Bella clasped the strands of pearls around
her neck. “Yes,” she said softly. “Many years ago.”

“Did you hide them in the house?”

Bella slowly sank down on the circular
couch. She didn’t say anything, but her silence spoke loudly. Sympathy touched
Alaina’s heart. She sank to her knees in front of Bella. “Why did you hide
them?”

Bella pressed her lips together and
remained silent. Hoping to get the older woman to confide in them, Alaina
opened her purse and withdrew Miriam’s diary.

“This is my great-grandmother’s diary.” She
watched Bella’s eyes widen. “You know who that is, don’t you?”

She nodded again, but didn’t say anything.

“You knew her?”

“Yes. I knew both Laura and Miriam and
their parents.”

“I’d like to read one of the entries to
you.” Alaina carefully opened the fragile book to a place she’d marked with a
Post-It. “It’s dated May 15, 1937.”

She glanced at Rye as he and his brothers
sat on the couch beside Bella, then began to read.

“Raymond Coleman was hanged today for
the rape and murder of my sister. His trial—if that sham could be called a
trial—had lasted barely a day. All the jurors found him guilty in less than an
hour. The judge ruled that Raymond be hanged in three days. ‘Justice’ happens
quickly when a county is ruled not by law officers, but one man.

“I could have witnessed the hanging. I
couldn’t bear to. I’ll never believe that sweet, gentle man killed Laura.

“Raymond came into the store with his
son a few days before Laura’s death. Such a precious baby, and the exact image
of his father. I’ve never seen a prouder man than Raymond when he looked at
Ray.

“No, it wasn’t Raymond Coleman who
killed Laura. I’ll always believe
he
did it—that awful Edward Stevens.”

Alaina closed the diary. Bella sat with her
head lowered, one hand grasping her pearls. “Edward Stevens was your father,
wasn’t he?”