The Last Sister (Columbia River)(39)

Greer took a deep breath. “I’m not going to pretend everything will be fine. We don’t know who killed the Fitches, and we don’t know why.” His face softened. “I can’t stand here and honestly tell you nothing else is going to happen. I can’t predict the future.”

The brief stunned silence was disrupted by voices. Just about everyone’s voices. Some people stood and worked their way past the others in the pews, their children’s hands clenched in their own. Several streamed past Zander, fear and anger in their eyes, bits of their conversations reaching his ears.

“—going to Grandma’s in Portland.”

“—out of my gun safe tonight.”

“—dogs go bonkers if they hear someone outside.”

Beside him Emily tensed as people passed, many of them stopping to pat her hand or say a brief word about Lindsay.

“Folks!” The sheriff knew he’d lost the crowd. “Any more questions?” He was ignored as more people stood and left. A few gathered at the podium, peppering Greer with questions. Others met in small groups, their heads together as they spoke, occasionally casting suspicious looks at him and Ava or the sheriff.

“Fuck.” Ava was succinct. “This accomplished nothing except to rile up everyone.”

“What do you expect when they’ve been told that they could be the next murder victim?” snapped Emily.

“That’s not what—”

“I know that’s not what the sheriff said,” Emily stated. “But that’s what they heard.”

Zander couldn’t argue with Emily’s logic. Her color was better. Anger had replaced the earlier anxiety.

He liked her better this way.

She turned to him. “When will you have a motive?” Her dark-blue eyes probed him, expecting an answer.

“I don’t know.” He couldn’t lie.

“You’ve figured out nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Am I in danger because I was there at the same time as Nate Copeland?”

Zander held her gaze. “We can’t rule it out yet.”

She swore under her breath. “Now what?”



Madison stepped quietly through the mansion’s front door and slowly closed it, the knob tight in her grip, attempting to be as silent as possible. Her aunts were home from the meeting at the church, and Madison didn’t want to listen to a discussion in which they rehashed every word. Emily’s car wasn’t parked in its usual spot out front—which was fine with Madison. She didn’t believe her sister had seen her at the meeting; Emily had been focused on the FBI agents.

Emily probably wonders why I didn’t attend.

Her sister was always looking over Madison’s shoulder, checking up on her, being a mother hen. It made her feel like a teenager with a chaperone.

The staircase creaked as she lightly jogged up the treads, keeping one ear open for her aunts. She passed the open door of Emily’s room. And then stopped. The coins from her earlier memories reappeared in her mind and drew her inside Emily’s room.

Is this where I saw them?

It couldn’t be. The memory felt very, very old.

She flipped on the light switch and studied her sister’s things. Madison had nosed through Emily’s things in the past simply out of curiosity and because she had the opportunity. She assumed her sister had done the same with Madison’s belongings. The three sisters—and then two—had constantly gone through each other’s things for as long as Madison could remember.

All sisters snooped. Right?

Madison slid on her stomach, the hardwood cold against her bare knees. The space under Tara’s bed was tight, and Madison kept a cheek to the floor to stay low enough without banging her head. Tara’s bed was pushed into the far corner of her room, and Madison had spotted a large box underneath in that corner. She wanted to know what was in it. She pushed shoes and games and smaller boxes out of her way. She’d already rooted through those little boxes and found nothing of interest. But that large box by itself was like a beacon to her nine-year-old brain.

Emily shared a room with Madison, but at seventeen, Tara had her own. Jealousy ran rampant in Madison’s heart. Tara got to do everything. Dates, movies, driving. She got to work in the diner and earn money to buy all the clothes she wanted.

Madison couldn’t wait to be a teenager.

Her fingers reached the cardboard box, its brown surface rough to the touch. It was too tall to open under the bed. She backed up the way she’d come, sliding with one hand awkwardly grasping a corner of the box. It was heavy and kept slipping from her grip. Excitement curled in her chest.

What would it be?

She emerged from under the bed. Dust from the floor left odd pale patterns on her navy T-shirt, and she tasted it on her tongue. Kneeling, she flipped open the box’s flaps. And exhaled in disappointment.

Books. The box was full of books. She dug to the bottom, searching for hidden treasure. Nothing but books. She picked one up, wrinkling her nose at the embracing man and woman on the cover. Flipping it open, she noticed someone had used a pen to underline sentences.

Mom would be furious if Tara had marked in books.

“Madison!” Tara stood in the doorway, fury shining in her eyes.

Dropping the book back in the box, Madison felt her stomach swirl and churn, ready to vomit.