Where Shadows Meet(49)

“No, absolutely not! I won’t even ask her.” Hannah shuddered at the thought.

“Okay, fine.” Angie’s voice held disgust as she stood. “I’m going to run downtown. I need to email your publicity shot.”

“Could you drop me at Aunt Nora’s? I really need to talk to her about this whole mess, see what she knows.” Hannah rubbed her head. “Oh wait, it’s Monday. She always goes to visit her friends on Monday.”

“You need to work anyway.”

“I need some inspiration. There’s a quilt fair going on at the dime store two blocks over. I think I’ll take a look.”

Angie frowned. “I’m not sure it’s safe.”

“I’ll be in a crowd. Call me when you’re ready to come back and I’ll meet you at the curb.” The cats entwined themselves around her ankles, but she booted them out of the way, then grabbed her purse and joined Angie at the door, locking it behind them.

Angie let her out in front of the dime store, then drove on. Hannah stopped to glance at the quilts in the window. The traditional solid jewel tones shimmered against the black background. Looking at them made her want to keep working on her own, just as she’d hoped.

She slipped into the busy store and made her way to the back, where other women were admiring the quilt display. Some were only for display, but she stopped beside a stack of quilts for sale. Her hand smoothed the top one, its cotton fabric soft and lustrous. She lifted it aside and began to sort through them. It was a habit she couldn’t stop. The hope of finding one of her mother’s never left her.

After reverently looking through the stacks, she realized there was nothing of her mother’s here. Someone had those quilts. Their disappearance was the one piece that didn’t fit in the puzzle she’d stitched together convicting Reece of the crime. If he’d killed her family, what had he done with the quilts? If he’d sold them, they would have turned up on the market somewhere. She’d been everywhere, looked online and at flea markets, studied other museums’ collections. Not one had ever come to light.

Her obsession with finding them had infuriated Reece. Had he kept them from her deliberately to exert control over her?

She made her way back into the fresh air. Surely he wouldn’t have destroyed something so valuable, but she had no other explanation. She was so lost in her thoughts, she nearly collided with a figure on the sidewalk. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and steadied her. She looked up into Matt’s face.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It was my fault. I wasn’t looking.”

“I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

“Something about the little girl?” The hopeful words sprang from her mouth.

His smile faded. “No, nothing about her. I just wondered if you needed anything. And to say I’m sorry Vanessa bothered you.”

He turned and began to walk toward his SUV. “Get in. I’ll drive you home.”

Such an infuriating man. Just because he thought her quest was a wild-goose chase didn’t mean he could ignore her. Maybe she needed to start through town herself and ask everyone she met. She pressed her lips together and got into the vehicle. He shut the door behind her and went around to his side. She called Angie to tell her she had a ride.

She put her cell phone away, then glanced around his SUV. It was neat and smelled clean with a hint of his cologne. The vehicle shifted when he got in. She’d like to ask him about his family. Vanessa’s visit had made her curious about him. Would he answer any of her questions? If she got to know him better, maybe he’d help her find the little girl.

He glanced at her. “I hope Vanessa’s visit didn’t upset you too much. She can be rather . . . overbearing.”

“She was larger-than-life,” Hannah admitted. “You were married to her sister?”

He nodded. “Analise died three years ago.”

“Vanessa told me she’d died. I’m so sorry.”

“So was I. Our daughter misses her terribly. Analise was a great mom. And a good wife.”

“What happened?”

“She had a brain aneurysm. She was prone to migraines, so at first that’s what we thought it was. If I’d taken her sooner . . .” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “Now Caitlin has no mother.”

“Guilt is hard to get over. I know all about that.” She stared out the window.

He turned his head to look at her. “Are you talking about the lemonade? There was no poison in it.”

She stared out the window. “I killed my family.”

“The cookies killed them. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was my sin God punished.” She turned her head to look at him. “You don’t think Cyrus killed them, do you?”

“No, not anymore.”

“I—I think it was Reece. Except . . .”

“Except for what?”

“What did he do with the quilts?”

“Sold them, maybe?”

She shook her head. “They would have turned up on the market. There’s no trace of them.”

“Tell me, what about the murder itself? Would Reece have had time to arrange the bodies after you left, gather up the cookies, and help Cyrus get rid of the quilts before he came to meet you? How late was he?”