The Last Lie Told (Finley O’Sullivan, #1)(64)

He looked around again. Listened for the sound of his colleagues moving around in other rooms. “Between you and me, I don’t think there was enough blood for the stabbing to have been the cause of death.” He shrugged. “The ME will be the final word on that, of course.”

“I totally agree. Something doesn’t fit here.” She shrugged. “I’m sure the ME will run all the usual tox screens.”

He scoffed. “Oh, count on it. Janzen is the best. And he’s fast. The chief put a priority on this one.”

“That’s good to know.” She had a contact in Janzen’s office.

“This is an odd family,” he said. “No offense, but I don’t envy you figuring this one out.”

“No kidding.” She backed toward the door. “I should get out of your way. Thank you for taking care of the place. We should catch up sometime.”

A blush swept across his face. “Sure thing.”

It was good and dark when Finley walked out the door and to her car. That had been a lot easier than she’d anticipated. Now, the big questions were these: If the knife didn’t kill Sophia Legard, what did? And, if that was the case, what was the point of the big knife?

Two very good questions for the twins.

Assuming they found Cecelia. And she was still alive.

Finley called Jack as she climbed in and pointed her Subaru in the direction of home. She brought him up to speed on what the CSI team had found—or, more accurately, what they hadn’t found. While she had him on the phone, she told him about the Judge’s unexpected visit. Jack immediately launched into a monologue about how this was just further proof that the Judge actually cared about Finley. Rather than listen, she pondered how it was that she and the Judge could have nothing in common. Couldn’t see a single thing through the same lens. Most daughters had issues with their mothers during puberty and the emotional roller-coaster ride of the teenage years. But Finley and her mother’s issues had magnified only after all that. While Finley was away at school, it wasn’t so bad. They rarely saw each other or had time for calls. Her mother had been anointed with her robes, and Finley had been buried in exams. When Finley returned to Nashville to begin her career, things had gone downhill.

If not for her dad and the occasional case that landed on the Judge’s docket, she and her mother would likely never see each other at all anymore.

Finley ended the call as she turned into her own driveway, and she was damned tired. It had been a long day. She put the car in park and shut off the engine, then reached for the door.

“I need your help.”

Finley froze. Her gaze shot to the rearview mirror.

Cecelia Legard sat up in her back seat, the same blanket her sister had used for hiding pulled around her.

What the hell?

Finley tightened her hold on the door handle to prevent lunging over the seat and shaking the woman. There were many answers she wanted, but first things first. “Are you injured?”

“No . . . just scared.”

“Do you know something about what happened to your mother?”

“No,” she wailed. “It wasn’t me. I’ve been hiding all day. I didn’t know what to do after I found her. I panicked and went into my place.”

“Your place?” Finley had searched the house and the grounds.

“In the attic there’s a maintenance room. It’s climate controlled like the rest of the house. I discovered it when I was a kid. I used to hide there to smoke.”

“Did Olivia ever go there with you?” Finley would be pretty pissed if she learned Olivia had known about the hiding place and ignored it during their search.

“No. Just me. That’s how I knew I’d be safe there. No one knew about it.”

“I searched for you,” Finley said. “Why didn’t you come out then? I called your name over and over.”

“You can’t hear anything in there. It’s like soundproof or something.”

Made a sort of sense. If the home’s heating and cooling systems were part of the maintenance area, then there would certainly be soundproofing.

“When I dared to sneak out and have a look, the police were everywhere. The last time I came out to look around, I saw your car. I figured it was my one chance to escape. I . . . I wrapped my arms around my head and made a mad dash to your car and hid under the blanket.”

“You should have come out and spoken to the police. They’re looking for you,” Finley warned. “They’re running your photo on the news and social media asking that anyone who sees you call it in.”

Cecelia leaned forward, her lips trembling. “I’m telling you,” she cried softly, “I didn’t do this. I’m running for my life.”

“Let’s go inside,” Finley said. “We can talk, and you’ll be safe.”

“Thank you.”

Finley got out of the car and walked to the door. The idea that she should call the police flitted through her mind, but her need to hear the rest of what Cecelia had to say overwhelmed any concern for the rules or her own safety.

Cecelia was slower getting out. She was cloaked in the blanket like a swaddled baby; only her head was covered too. She made her way to the porch, bumping into anything in her path. When she was inside, Finley closed and locked the door.