She tilted her head, considering. “I’m not sure anyone but a physician would start the timeline there, but we’re brainstorming so it won’t hurt to include it. First rule of brainstorming is no censorship. Anything else you want to add to our murder board?”
“Yeah.” Two could play this game. “Put down that Simone called my office on Friday to set up an appointment for Bobby even though she swears she didn’t find any bruises until Saturday night after the party.”
The crestfallen look on Anna’s face told him she caught the point he was trying to drive home.
“Doesn’t make sense, does it?” He continued, “Write down that Simone lied.” There was no way to put this diplomatically. “Anna, I’m sorry, but I think we have to consider the possibility that Simone might actually have abused Bobby.”
She shook her head. “That doesn’t add up. Let’s go back to your timeline. Simone saw her doctor last week. We think she discovered Bobby’s bruises on Friday, even though she denies it, because that’s when she called your office. Does Von Willebrand run in families?”
Anna was handling his accusation about Simone well. She was thinking objectively, not defensively. “Yes. And Von Willebrand is often associated with anemia. And we know for a fact Simone’s anemic.”
Anna started scribbling on the board. “What if Simone suspected Bobby has Von Willebrand, because her doctor told her she has Von Willebrand, and that’s why she called your office on Friday?”
“It’s possible, I suppose, but if that’s true, all she had to do was say so and we could have avoided this whole mess. If Simone hadn’t been so evasive, if she hadn’t lied to me about those bruises, I never would have called in social services.”
Anna spread more of the clippings and skimmed her fingers over their headlines. The color drained from her face, and she let out a soft gasp. “I think I may have found what Simone was looking for in the vertical file.”
He took a look at where she was pointing, and what he saw knocked him back a step. A photo of Megan—from her obituary. Nervously, he jangled the bracelet in his pocket, and then pulled it out. He’d almost forgotten about finding it in the bathroom. Turning the bracelet over in his hand, he inspected it carefully this time. His fingers slid over one of the charms—a misshapen key. He touched the bend in the shaft of the key a second time and closed his eyes.
No way this could be what he thought it was.
Holding his breath, he ran the pads of his fingers over the bow of the key and just about came out of his skin.
When he opened his eyes, Anna was staring at the bracelet, her mouth gaping. “Where did you get that?”
“Bathroom.” He could barely choke out the word. “Simone’s?”
She nodded. “She was here, Charlie. We have to call Nate.”
“I tried earlier, no signal. Anna, how long has Simone had this bracelet?” His palm tingled everywhere the silver links touched his skin. He reached a hand out and braced himself against the table.
“Since high school. You should sit down Charlie, I think you may be getting dehydrated.”
He shook his head. “See this charm, this little key? I made this key for Megan.”
“Come on Charlie, that’s not likely. There are millions of key charms on sale at fine jewelers everywhere. It’s just a coincidence.”
Picking up Megan’s obituary from the murder board, he pointed to her photograph and handed it to Anna. Megan was wearing a chain with a misshapen key around her neck. “Take a good look. I made that charm in shop class. I got a C because I screwed it up. It’s all bent, and it has three little holes in the bow of the key.”
Anna turned back to the murder board with determination. She crumpled the obituary in her fist, and then dropped it. “It isn’t the same key.” She spread the remaining clippings with her hands, desperately seeking an alternative explanation to the one that was forming over their heads like thunderclouds ready to rain down poison gas.
“I’m sorry, Anna.” He could see how distressed she was, and he was sick to his stomach himself, but however horrible the implication, Charlie knew that key. It was the same key he gave to Megan when they first started dating. She always wore it around her neck. Zero doubt about it. “Why was Simone looking at Megan’s obituary on Sunday, and how did she get hold of the charm that I made for Megan in high school?”
Anna fussed with the clippings again, and then picked up the Tangleheart Gazette. Her hands started to tremble, and her eyes filled with tears. “Charlie,” she whispered. “Look at Sally.”
“You’re avoiding again.”
“Look at Sally.” She shook the newspaper at him. “Please.”
Nodding, he took the paper from her hand. He’d seen that picture of Sally McMahon several times, but because of her resemblance to Megan, his attention had always been drawn to her face. He’d never even noticed the emerald around her neck—the one that looked an awful lot like the stunner Nate had given Simone last Saturday night.