Midnight Secrets

chapter

TWENTY SIX


Rain, like small dismal streams, drizzled down the windowpane. From the window of her bedroom, Savannah looked out into the water-drenched backyard. The gloom of the weather couldn’t have reflected her mood any better. She hadn’t slept all night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Zach’s face. She had never meant to hurt him.

Even as she had the thought, her conscience snarled a reprimand. How could he not be hurt? Even if he hadn’t learned the truth on his own and she had told him first, he would have asked her when she’d read the first letter. Not telling him immediately was a breach of his trust.

She had to come clean about everything. He would be hurt again, but the longer she waited, the worse it would be. Adrenaline-charged panic flooded through her, familiar and unwelcome. She took deep, cleansing breaths, fought for control and won. What remained was a cold lump of dread that settled in her chest. She didn’t talk about that time … hadn’t in years. But what would be worse? The pain of remembering or keeping the truth from Zach? He had every right to know.

A glance at her watch told her she was going to be late if she didn’t get a move on. Gibby’s house was only a few miles away, but the rain might slow her down. She hurriedly finished dressing and then ran down the staircase. Just as she reached the bottom step, she spotted Zach getting out of his patrol car.

Straightening her shoulders, she composed herself as she went to the door to let him in. She would invite him to come with her to Gibby’s. If her aunt had significant information, then Zach needed to hear it, too. And she would apologize again. Knowing she had hurt him was tearing her apart.

She opened the door before he could ring the bell. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to—”

The grim set of his face barely gave a warning of impending bad news. “I’m here in an official capacity.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Gibby. Someone broke into her house last night.” He paused and softened his voice. “I’m sorry, Savannah. She looks to be in bad shape.”

The hospital in Midnight was more of a clinic than anything else. Though it had a half dozen beds and three full-time doctors, most people with life-threatening injuries or illnesses were transferred to County General in Mobile. Zach figured that’s where Gibby would end up.

The small waiting room was empty with the exception of him and Savannah. The uncomfortable plastic chair squeaked as he shifted his weight. Savannah paced back and forth in front of him. The worry and guilt etched on her face diminished his anger. Seeing Savannah hurting was a hell of a lot worse than anything she could do to him.

The doctors were still working on her aunt. So far, no one had updated them. The extent of her injuries was unknown but Zach had seen her before the ambulance arrived. No one deserved to be beaten like that, least of all a little elderly woman who’d never hurt anyone in her life. Her house had been cordoned off and his deputies were standing guard. As soon as he talked to the doctor, Zach planned to go back to the house and cover every square inch for evidence.

Savannah had been customarily calm until she’d gotten a glimpse of Gibby’s battered face through the small window of the emergency room door. Her gasp of distress had slashed at his self-righteous anger, bringing things into perspective. Finding out who’d hurt an elderly woman was his priority, not his bruised ego.

Abruptly stopping her pacing, she stood in front of him and whispered her words like a confession. “This is my fault.”

He’d known that was coming. He wasn’t about to let Savannah take the blame for the sick bastard who’d done this. “No, it’s not. First, we don’t even know if this is related to your parents. It could be a burglary gone wrong. She may have surprised the guy when she came in last night.”

Silent, she dropped down into the chair beside him. They both knew it wasn’t a burglary gone wrong. He’d stayed up most of the night reading through her grandfather’s letters. Daniel Wilde had no proof of his suspicions, but the vague references he’d made of threats to Savannah and her sisters if Daniel didn’t drop his questions struck a strong chord in Zach’s gut.

The letters, the dead animal at Savannah’s doorstep, and now Gibby’s injuries didn’t exactly scream conspiracy and cover-up, but he’d trusted in his instincts too long to ignore them now.

Had Savannah’s questions stirred up a hornet’s nest? If her parents were indeed murdered, was the killer still out there or was this just someone’s fear that the truth would come out?

“And even if this is related to your parents’ deaths, the a*shole who did this is responsible. You had every right to ask questions if you thought there was a cover-up.”

Before she could say it, he added, “Telling me about it wouldn’t have prevented what happened to Gibby. There’s no way we could have predicted he’d go after her.”

The woman beside him swallowed hard and then gave him a heart-wrenchingly sad smile. “Thank you, Zach, for trying to make me feel better. I don’t deserve it.”

Zach’s fists clenched to keep from reaching out to hold her. When she turned away with a soft sob, he said to hell with it and put his hand on her shoulder. “Savannah … don’t.”

“Miss Wilde?”

They went to their feet. Zach’s chest tightened when Savannah grabbed for his hand. He squeezed it gently as they waited to hear the news.

The on-call doctor didn’t look old enough to be out of high school, much less a full-fledged physician. Looks were deceiving. Zach had dealt with the doctor several times and knew him to be competent.

“Your aunt is going to be fine. She’s got some facial lacerations from her fall, a severely bruised nose, a couple of bruised ribs and a sprained wrist. I was afraid of a broken hip, but it’s bruised, not fractured. I’d like to keep her here for a couple of days to monitor her.”

Savannah slumped against Zach in relief. “Thank you, Doctor. She looked so hurt, I was afraid—”

Frowning, Zach zeroed in on one word. “Fall? Is that what she told you? That she fell?”

“Yes. She regained consciousness a few moments ago. Said she tripped on the carpet at the top of the stairs and that’s the last thing she remembered.”

Savannah gasped. “I can’t believe she’s alive. Those steps are so steep. I told her that—”

Zach interrupted. “She said nothing about an intruder?”

“No. We’ve not pressured her to talk. She’s still groggy and in some pain. You can see her as soon as we get her into a room, but I’d advise against questioning her too much and getting her agitated.”

While Savannah asked a few more questions, Zach thought back over what he found when he’d arrived at Gibby’s house. The back door had been unlocked, the bed unmade, and she had been wearing a nightgown, indicating she had either been about to get into bed or had possibly even been asleep when the assailant entered. No way in hell did he believe she had tripped on the carpet and fallen. Had she forgotten what happened or was she too afraid to say?

Zach nodded his thanks to the doctor, who walked away with the promise that a nurse would come and get Savannah when Gibby was in a private room.

The relief on Savannah’s face said she bought the story of a fall; she hadn’t seen Gibby’s house.

“She didn’t fall, Savannah.”

“Are you sure? She said—”

“I don’t care what she said. The back door was unlocked and she was either in bed or getting ready for bed when this went down. Don’t tell me an eighty-year-old woman is going to leave her back door unlocked and go to bed. Not even in Midnight, Alabama.”

“She could have forgotten to lock the door, Zach. Her memory might not—”

“Agreed. However, I’ve not seen any indication that she has memory problems. Have you?”

“No. You’re right. I was just hoping a fall was all it was.”

“You and I need to talk. I read through the letters. I need to know what you’ve learned.”

A multitude of emotions whirled through Savannah. She wished she could take a moment and put her thoughts together but knew that would have to come later. If Gibby’s injury was in any way related to her investigation of her parents’ deaths, there was no time for the slow, methodical thinking she preferred.

“Give me five minutes to see my aunt and then let’s go over to her house.”

“While you do that, I’m calling a couple of friends of mine, Brody James and Logan Wright. They run a private security company in Mobile. I want Gibby guarded 24/7 and I don’t have the manpower to spare.”

An ache that had nothing to do with today’s events swept through her. Zach, ever the protector and defender—the boy she had fallen in love with still had the same strength and honor as before. Had her hurt blinded her to that fact? Was that why she hadn’t told him about the letters from the beginning? Guilt sliced at her conscience with the decisive precision of a machete. He had tried to exonerate her, telling her that this wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t so sure. If they’d been working together all this time, could Gibby’s assault have been prevented?

Savannah pulled her cellphone from her purse. “While you do that, I’m going to call Sammie and Bri. They were coming here this weekend anyway, but they need to know about Gibby.”

His expression stoic and grim, Zach nodded and pulled his cellphone from his pocket. Was his serious, businesslike demeanor because he was in chief-of-police mode or something else? Had her selfishness and lack of trust destroyed what she was only now realizing she wanted above all else?

The Wilde house was strangely silent. Zach and Savannah sat at the kitchen table, both lost in their own thoughts.

After a thorough search of the inside and outside of Gibby’s house, Zach was convinced of a break-in. The rain overnight had washed away any telltale prints outside, but a large muddy footprint in the kitchen gave him an idea of the size of the man. Problem was, there were a hell of a lot of men in Midnight with a 10½ shoe size.

Another giveaway had been the back door. The lock was so damn flimsy, a two-year-old could have broken in, but the wood surrounding the latch had fresh gouges and scratches. Someone had jimmied the lock.

Savannah had walked through the house with him and didn’t believe anything had been stolen. Gibby would have to confirm that, but the house was neat and seemingly untouched. The television and DVD player in the living room and laptop computer in the small study beside the kitchen were out in the open and would’ve been easy to carry out. Gibby’s purse lay on the hallway table with her wallet, cash, and credit cards intact. This had been no burglary.

Brody James was now at the hospital guarding Gibby’s room. Had Gibby’s attacker meant to kill the elderly woman or just scare the hell out of her? Zach believed the former. She’d been pushed down an entire flight of stairs. It was a miracle she wasn’t dead. And when the bastard learned she wasn’t dead, would he be back to finish the job? Brody James would make sure that didn’t happen.

Before they’d left the hospital, he and Savannah had briefly visited Gibby. Seeing the usually cheerful and spry woman so beaten up and hurt had infuriated Zach. Whoever had done this wouldn’t get away with it. He’d make sure of it.

Gibby had been so out of it, she’d barely recognized Savannah. He hoped like hell she would remember something when he talked with her again.

He glanced over at Savannah, who looked both worried and furious. While he wanted to reassure her, Zach held himself back. The blow she’d dealt him last night still stung. He had to push it aside for right now, though. Nothing was more important than learning the truth.

“Okay, let’s go over what you know,” Zach said.

Her huff of exasperation was reassuring. He hadn’t liked seeing the fear and sadness in her eyes. Anger was a much healthier emotion.

“You act as if I’ve known about this forever, Zach. I found the letters last week. All I’ve done so far is talk to Gibby, read the newspaper accounts of the events, and ask a few vague questions at Faye’s Diner, which was the biggest bust of all. I learned nothing. And I’ve talked to a few of Mama and Daddy’s friends about when they were alive. The one person who I thought could really tell me something was Harlan Mosby. Unfortunately I got to the hospital too late.”

“That’s why you went to Mobile?”

She grimaced. “That was the main reason but I really did drop a load of stuff off at the Salvation Army.”

“So the night before you go to talk to Harlan about his investigation of your parents’ deaths, he conveniently dies.”

She nodded. “Exactly what I thought. The doctor swore his death was imminent … completely expected. He practically laughed in my face when I suggested someone might have killed him.”

Zach already knew that Harlan’s body had been cremated. Proving that someone had assisted Harlan into going on to the next life would be impossible.

“You said you’ve talked to your parents’ friends. Did you learn anything from them?”

“No. Since I didn’t want to arouse anyone’s suspicions, I tried to keep my questions more of a conversation than a questioning. Subtlety yielded zero results.”

“Since someone tried to kill your aunt, I’d say it did produce one result.”

She wilted in front of him like a scorched flower. His remark had been a low blow and he knew it. He’d said it to intentionally hurt her and immediately felt like shit. “I’m sorry, Savannah, I—”

The hurt in her eyes disappeared and was replaced by determination. “Fine. You’re right. I screwed up. But here’s the thing—why go after Gibby? Why not come after me? I’m the one asking the questions, not her.”

“Maybe he thinks she knows something.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

The light bulb came on and Zach cursed himself for not thinking of it before. Last night at the dinner party, Gibby had, very loudly, told Savannah she had thought of something she needed to tell her that would aid in her investigation. Anyone in the house could have heard her.

Zach grabbed the notepad she had in front of her. “Name everyone who was there last night and their relationship to your parents.”

While she jotted down the names, Zach stood and, without giving it much thought, opened the fridge and took out a pitcher of lemonade. Holding it up, he said, “Want some?”

A small smile curved her lips. “Yes. Thanks.”

“What’s so amusing?”

“Nothing, really. I just like the way you make yourself at home.”

He poured two glasses and set them on the table. “Get used to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that until this is over, I’m living here.”

He prepared himself, sure that his blunt statement would get her back up. She surprised the hell out of him when she said, “I like the sound of that.”

A gut punch of arousal stole his breath. Damn, he wanted her. Here. Now. On the table, stripped bare, begging for pleasure. Zach downed his beverage in two gulps, hoping the ice-cold drink would diminish the heat. Until they got some things settled between them, that wasn’t going to happen.

She slid the notepad across the table. “I can’t believe any of them would do this. They all seem so harmless and have been so kind to me.”

His eyes scanned the list. “I agree, but you know as well as anyone that looks can be deceiving.”

She nodded. “Seems like every few months, I prosecute someone for a heinous crime while everyone else claims shock, saying he seemed like such a nice, quiet guy.” Savannah pushed away from the table and stood. “I need to go back and check on Gibby.”

“I’ll drive you. Maybe she’ll be alert enough to talk.”

“The doctor said she should be able to come home in a couple of days. I’m thinking about asking her if she wants to stay here.”

“I’d let her go home. She’ll be more comfortable there. Brody can protect her.”

“Sammie and Bri can help out, too. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

He was surprised Savannah didn’t suggest that Sammie or Bri would be protection enough for her, too. Not that it would do any good. Until this case was closed, he would be with her day and night. After that? Zach pushed aside the thought.

Fury swept through Savannah once more as she gazed down at Gibby. The bruises and swelling were more apparent than ever. Her sweet aunt was almost unrecognizable. How could anyone hurt an innocent old lady?

“I promise you, honey, it looks worse than it is,” Gibby insisted.

Savannah refused to believe this wasn’t her fault. If she had been more discreet, none of this would have happened. Was this the reason her grandfather had never pursued the truth? A killer in the midst of Midnight seemed ludicrous. Evil wasn’t limited to urban areas, she knew; it was just that her hometown had always seemed to stay the same. Now she knew that sameness had been hiding her parents’ killer.

“Miss Gibby, you feel up to talking?” Zach asked.

Gibby tried to sit up and then gasped. Savannah was there immediately to stop her and then raised the bed slightly. Zach put another pillow behind her head to help prop her up.

“I’ll try my best, Zach, but I can’t say I remember much. If I rightly recall, I was getting ready for bed and Samson started meowing real loud. He only does that if something upsets him. I went to pick him up and heard something out in the hallway. I opened the door and didn’t see anything, so I stepped out of the bedroom and went to the top of the stairs. I felt someone’s hands push me forward. Next thing I knew, I was waking up here in the hospital.”

“The doctor said you told him you’d fallen,” Zach said.

“Well, I wasn’t about to tell him what really happened. What if he mentioned it to someone?”

“Last night at Lamont and Nesta’s, you said you had something to tell me. What was it?”

“After your mama and daddy passed, your granddaddy was in a pickle. He was just so worried about you three girls and how this was going to affect you. Lots of people offered to help, some of them even wanted to adopt one of you or all of you, but there was one person who specifically wanted only you, Savannah.”

A chill zipped up her spine. Though Savannah and her sisters were identical, the discerning eye could tell them apart. However, even at an early age, people were calling Savannah “Little Maggie” because, except for the wavy hair she’d inherited from her father, she was the spitting image of her mother. She met Zach’s eyes and then looked at Gibby again. “Who was it?”

Gibby grimaced. “That’s the thing … I don’t know. Daniel was insulted by all the offers but that was the one that made him uncomfortable.”

Revulsion roiled in Savannah’s stomach. Someone had wanted her because she looked like her mother. Had that someone had anything to do with Maggie’s death?

“Did you notice if Granddad started treating any particular person different than before?”

“Oh, honey, he treated everyone different. Even me.” A fleeting expression of hurt appeared on Gibby’s battered face. “Guess he didn’t trust anyone after that, even family. You and your sisters were his life. He would have done anything to protect you.”

Savannah knew that to be true. Her granddad’s life had changed dramatically when her parents died. He had stopped socializing with friends and had rarely gone anywhere unless it pertained to his granddaughters. She had often felt guilty about them taking over his life so completely. Now she wondered if he’d closed himself off for a different reason. Because he had no real idea who might have killed her parents, had he suspected everyone? And not knowing who was responsible, had trusted no one?

How she wished she had known these things earlier. If he had shared this secret, maybe they could have discovered the truth together. A fresh wave of grief immobilized her. She had known her granddad had dealt with a lot, she just hadn’t known how much.

A large hand grabbed hers and squeezed gently. She looked up into Zach’s face and was surprised at the depth of sympathy in his eyes. Longing built up inside her for this wonderful, caring man. She had hurt him with her silence but he was still here for her, offering her his sympathy and support.

Zach held her gaze for a moment, giving her the comfort she so desperately needed. Then, squeezing her hand once more, he turned back to Gibby. “Do you have any suspicions about anyone?”

“I wish I did, Zach. Lord knows there’s lots of mean people in this world and this town has its share. Problem is, this person is probably someone we know and would never suspect.”

“When you’re released, I want you to come stay with me until this is over,” Savannah said.

An unusual hardness changed Gibby’s expression from that of a badly battered victim to that of an infuriated, determined woman. “I most certainly will not. I’ve lived in that house more than seventy years. Nobody’s going to run me out of it.”

“Then Brody, Zach’s friend, will stay with you until it’s over.”

“If you think I’m going to argue about having that sweet young man who’s standing outside my room staying in my house, you’ve got another think coming.”

While Zach swallowed what sounded like a snort, Savannah grinned at her aunt. Brody James had probably not been called sweet since he was in diapers. Zach had introduced her to him when they arrived at the hospital. The man was well over six feet tall and more than two hundreds pounds of mostly muscle. A look from his dark brown eyes would make the meanest criminal turn tail and run. But Aunt Gibby had always had a different way of looking at people.

“Do you need anything?”

Gibby shook her head. “Hester, bless her heart, is coming back in a few minutes with some of my things. She’s also going to take care of Samson and Oscar for the next few days.” Waving her hand at them, she closed her eyes. “You go on now and find out who this terrible person is before he hurts someone else.”

Savannah leaned over and kissed Gibby’s forehead, feeling an intense affection for the woman who had been in her life for as long as she could remember. They had often laughed at Gibby’s antics and tolerated her eccentricities. This incident had brought home to Savannah just how much she loved the older woman. It could have been so much worse.

Zach opened the door for her and they walked out of the room together. Brody was leaning against the wall. Heavily muscled arms were crossed in front of him in a forbidding pose, the vivid tattoos on them making him look all the more fierce.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice and looking out for Gibby. She’s very special to me.”

Brody gave a nod. “My pleasure, ma’am. She’s a real sweet woman.”

Savannah held back a laugh. Apparently both Brody and Gibby thought the other was sweet.

“Besides,” Brody continued, “Zach only has to ask. He knows Logan and I would do anything for him.”

Based on her earlier conversation with Zach, Savannah knew that both Brody and Logan had served with him in the army. She was surprised to see a slight flush of color on Zach’s cheeks at Brody’s words. There was definitely a story there.

Zach backslapped Brody once again and then they headed outside, back to the patrol car.

Savannah breathed in the hot, humid air of another steamy summer’s day in Midnight. Everything seemed peaceful, normal and nonthreatening. The phrase “still waters run deep” aptly fit this town. Who would have guessed that her lazy little hometown held a murderer in its easygoing, laid-back midst?

Suddenly remembering a question she’d meant to ask Zach the moment she saw him this morning, she said, “The police and coroner’s reports. Did you have a chance to find them?”

His already grim face went darker. “Yes and no.”

She stopped in the middle of the parking lot. “What does that mean?”

“The police report was half-assed … barely one page. No photographs of the scene. Two statements from witnesses claiming your father was enraged at the country club. One statement from the bartender at Shorty’s Bar saying your father had four bourbons. Two more witness statements from the bar’s patrons who said he sat at the bar drinking for a couple of hours and then left.”

“No photographs?” Savannah shook her head, appalled at how unprofessional and inept Mosby had been. “What about the coroner’s report? There should be a—” She broke off abruptly when he started shaking his head.

“Only one coroner’s report—your mother’s. Nothing for your daddy.”

“That makes no sense. There has to be.”

“If there was, it’s been lost or was destroyed.”

At a loss, she could only stare at him. She would review the police report and coroner’s report for her mother’s death, but it was the one for her father she had hoped to glean the most information from. That report was the only substantial piece of evidence she would have had to prove that he didn’t kill himself. The coroner would have pointed out any other injuries her father had, including defensive wounds. Beckett Wilde would have fought tooth and nail to save not only his life, but also his wife’s. The murderer would have had to be as large as or even larger than her father to be able to hang him. And he would have fought with all of his might to prevent that. The report could have revealed so much. Without it, she had nothing.

Unknowingly, she spoke the words out loud. “What am I going to do?”

“Not you, Savannah. We. And what we’re going to do is find out who killed your parents.”

She took him in then—strong, determined jaw, intelligent eyes, and the honor that had drawn her to him so many years ago. This was a man she could depend on. It shamed her that she had told him she forgave him and trusted him but she so obviously hadn’t. But now they had come full circle. The trust was there as it had once been.

She held out her hand to him and blew out a silent relieved sigh when he took it. Giving him a smile of confidence because she truly believed that between the two of them they could conquer anything, she said, “You’re right. We are.”