23
Robin Strauss wasn’t a minute late. With her gray hair combed into a bun at her nape and a multitude of lines around her mouth, she appeared to be about fifty-five and rather...harsh.
Sadie could tell that Dawson grew even more nervous once he saw her. The media hadn’t been kind to him, and the media reports had to be at least part of what Robin Strauss would use to judge him by. With her sober demeanor, button-down suit and thick glasses, she looked like a no-nonsense nun, or maybe a spinster librarian—someone who would view him as skeptically as possible.
Once they let her in, she didn’t say anything overtly negative, but she wasn’t friendly, either. She walked through the house, peering into each room before pausing at the master.
“This is where it happened?” She turned to Sadie, since Dawson had stopped at the doorway rather than follow them inside.
“Yes.” Sadie had asked Petra to watch Jayden for a couple of hours. She hated to leave him, in case Sly tried to cause trouble, but she’d known it wouldn’t be wise to have him here during the visit in case the discussion turned to the murders, and Petra had assured her she wouldn’t let Sly take Jayden no matter what.
“Is anyone using this room?” She focused on the box springs that didn’t have a mattress.
“Not yet.”
Ms. Strauss turned around to address Dawson. “What do you plan to do with it? Anything?”
“Sadie and Jayden will move in here once Angela is allowed to come home,” he said.
Her eyebrows, carefully drawn in with pencil, rose slightly. “Sadie doesn’t mind the fact that there was a double homicide here?”
Sadie spoke up before Dawson could attempt an answer. “I’m not pleased by the idea, of course. No one would be. But, as we’ve already explained, I’m living here because Dawson felt it would be better for Angela to have round-the-clock care. Or are you saying the bedroom should be closed off and never used again?”
Ms. Strauss seemed to realize how impractical the alternative would be. Despite the Reeds’ deaths, there were still living and breathing people who needed shelter. A house couldn’t be boarded up or burned down every time someone committed an act of violence inside its walls. “Some people are funny about those types of things—superstitious—is all,” she said.
“I’m not superstitious,” Sadie told her, but she had to admit, at least to herself, that the thought of sleeping in this room was a little discomfiting. She didn’t feel it was fair to put Angela here, however. And she knew how hard it would be for Dawson. So she’d insisted on being the one. Given that she wasn’t paying rent, it only seemed fair. “And just so you know, Dawson isn’t to blame for what happened, despite what you might’ve read about his case. He’s currently looking for the man he believes to be responsible.”
Ms. Strauss pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “That’s what he told you?”
Sadie couldn’t help bristling at the skepticism in her voice. “Yes. And I believe it’s true.”
She made no comment, merely clasped her clipboard to her chest. “So where is Angela’s room?”
“That’s where Jayden and I are staying at the moment. Right this way.”
Dawson stepped aside as Sadie led her back into the hall.
Ms. Strauss peered into Dawson’s room before taking a long look at Angela’s. “I’ve spoken to Angela,” she announced, rather abruptly.
“Did she tell you how badly she wants to come home?” Sadie shot a hopeful glance at Dawson. He’d rejoined them once they came out of his parents’ room, but he wasn’t doing a lot of talking. Sadie was trying to fill the long awkward silences, to make Ms. Strauss more sympathetic, if possible.
“She did.”
“She loves her brother. He’s always been good to her.”
“How long have you known Dawson?” she asked.
There was that skepticism again. Sadie barely managed to keep her smile in place. “Not long, which is why it’s so great that you don’t have to take my word for what a nice guy he is. The one person in town who’s known him the longest, since he was a freshman in high school, has said all along that he could never have perpetrated such a terrible crime. Feel free to talk to her, if you need a character reference.”
“I’ll do that,” she said, but Sadie got the impression she only agreed in order to be thorough. “Who should I contact?”
“Aiyana Turner. She’s the owner of New Horizons Boys Ranch.”
“Where he went to school.”
She’d done her homework. “Yes. Her sons also know Dawson and believe the same thing she does. His detractors, on the other hand, are virtual strangers. They’re judging him by what was presented in the media—which is, of course, what we both hope you won’t do. For Angela’s sake.”
When the older woman’s eyes narrowed beneath those thick glasses, Sadie feared she might’ve been a little too zealous in his defense. She didn’t want to reveal her romantic interest. That would only make Ms. Strauss question her credibility. “You told me that you started working here a week ago, correct?”
What Ms. Strauss really meant was, “How would you know?” Sadie could tell. “Yes.”
“Were you familiar with Dawson before that?”
“Not really, no.”
“Well, you certainly seem to be getting along so far.”
That would be a good thing for Angela, wouldn’t it? But Sadie wasn’t sure Ms. Strauss meant her statement in a positive way.
After that, she tried to keep her mouth shut. Dawson finished the tour, answered several more questions—about where Angela was when the murders occurred, how much she saw, what she understood.
Before Ms. Strauss left, however, she asked if Sadie would walk her out to her car—and made it clear that Dawson wasn’t to join them.
A rush of nervous energy flooded through Sadie as she agreed. “Sure.”
Sadie guessed Dawson was watching from the window while they crossed the porch and descended the stairs. Ms. Strauss didn’t speak immediately—didn’t say anything until they were well out of earshot of Dawson. Then she used her key fob to unlock the doors to a black sedan and turned. “You seem very supportive of Mr. Reed.”
“I am,” Sadie admitted. “I’ve spent a lot of hours with him over the past eight days and have seen nothing that would lead me to believe he would be anything other than a devoted brother. We’ve even been to visit Angela at Stanley DeWitt together. He wanted to take me along, so she could meet me.”
“Eight days isn’t a long time,” she said, refusing to be persuaded.
“Like I said, you can speak to Aiyana, Elijah or Gavin, if you’re looking for someone who has known him longer.”
“I’m not sure they could convince me.”
Ms. Strauss spoke with such resolution, Sadie felt her jaw drop. She was going to deny Dawson’s request for Angela to come home! “Because...”
“If we turn Angela over to him, and something happens to her, the blowback could be severe. The press will make a lot of the state releasing a mentally handicapped woman to a man we had reason to believe might be dangerous, and—”
“Whoa, wait a minute,” Sadie broke in. “He was tried and found innocent. I think the state has done all it can do.”
“Not in this regard, I’m afraid.”
“But refusing to let Angela come home makes no sense,” Sadie argued. “Dawson wants her here, and she wants to be here. Why would the state insist on continuing to pay for her care when she has a family member who’s willing to step up?”
Unperturbed, as if she dealt with emotional situations all the time—and, of course, she probably did—Ms. Strauss climbed behind the wheel. “Because we’re responsible for her well-being. I don’t feel it’s wise to take the risk, not when Angela is receiving the care she needs at Stanley DeWitt.”
Dawson was going to be heartbroken. He would believe he’d let Angela down—and his dead parents by extension.
Sadie caught the door before Ms. Strauss could close it. “But you can’t believe the media reports,” she said. “Please. They don’t always get it right.”
She put her key in the ignition. “I’m not basing my decision on the media reports.”
“You have to be! What else could be influencing your decision?”
She sighed audibly. “I received a call from someone yesterday that definitely made an impact.”
Sadie’s mind raced as she tried to imagine who might’ve contacted the state in regards to Dawson getting his sister back, but no one came to mind. Who else would care? Distant relatives? The prosecutor? The detective? “From who?”
“From someone who’s very concerned about this situation, concerned enough to let me know where things really stand.”
“Who?” Sadie repeated with more insistence. “It couldn’t be anyone who knows what he or she is talking about.”
“It was an officer on the Silver Springs police force,” Ms. Strauss announced, as if that cinched it. “He let me know in no uncertain terms that Dawson Reed has gotten away with murder.”
Sadie felt the blood rush to her head. “Excuse me?”
Ms. Strauss looked a little shocked by the power behind her outburst. “I was saying that I have it on good authority—”
“No. That isn’t good authority. The officer who called you was Sly Harris, wasn’t it.”
A hint of color crept into her cheeks. “Yes. How did you know?”
Closing her eyes, Sadie shook her head. “Because he’s my ex-husband. He hates that I now have a job that enables me to move on without him, so he’s been doing everything possible to make life for me miserable—Dawson, too, since Dawson’s been kind enough to help me. Officer Harris wasn’t acting in Angela’s best interest when he contacted you, Ms. Strauss. He was acting in his own best interest, was trying to cause trouble for Dawson.”
“I’d rather not get involved in any domestic disputes.” She lifted a hand as if to indicate that what Sadie had said was none of her business.
“Then don’t,” Sadie responded. “I’m telling you Dawson Reed didn’t kill his parents. Why would he be so intent on catching the real culprit if he was the guilty party? Why would he spend over $2,000 on a forensic specialist to come out and collect specimens from the bedroom? Why would he move back here, where he’s been treated like a pariah, and try to take care of his mentally handicapped sister, when he could take the money he received from his parents’ estate and start over, footloose and fancy-free, somewhere else?”
“To make himself look innocent, of course.”
Sadie shook her head in disgust. “Don’t you see how weak of an argument that is? He wouldn’t waste the time or the money. Especially because nothing he’s done so far has changed anyone’s mind! He’ll have to find the culprit and prove his innocence in order to make the people of Silver Springs believe him, and he knows he has little chance of that. He’s only fighting because he feels he owes it to his parents.”
A scowl suggested she would continue to resist Sadie’s logic. But what she said next indicated some softening. “I’ll think about it.”
There was nothing left to do but let her close the door. Sadie’s heart sank as she watched Dawson’s only hope of getting his sister back put her car in Reverse and start backing down the drive. She didn’t want to go in and tell him that his sister would have to remain institutionalized.
“Damn it. Can’t anything go right?” she mumbled.
Knowing that he was waiting to hear what Ms. Strauss had wanted to talk to her about, and feeling the weight of the inevitable, she turned, heartsick but resolute, toward the house. She needed to leave town sooner rather than later, she decided. Sly would not leave Dawson alone as long as she was here with him.
Before she could go more than two steps, however, Ms. Strauss stopped, rolled down her window and poked her head out.
“Fine,” she called out. “I’ll check into it. If what you say is true, that Officer Harris has a personal interest in this situation and there are others who will vouch for Mr. Reed’s character, I’ll recommend that the state allow Angela to come home.”
Sadie couldn’t believe her ears. “Call the chief of police. I’m not asking you to take my word alone. You could visit Lolita, who owns the diner in town, too. She saw Officer Harris nearly strike me in the restaurant on Sunday. It was right after that I applied to get a restraining order against him—although I haven’t yet had my hearing on that.” She thought about telling Ms. Strauss about the fire. In her book, Sly had done a lot more than almost strike her. But she had no proof he was the arsonist and didn’t want to come off as unbalanced or too acrimonious.
“It is what Angela wants, so...I’ll reevaluate and get back to you.” Her lips curved into a smile—the first Sadie had seen from her. “Tell Dawson he’s lucky to have you in his corner.”
Sadie let her breath go in relief. “I’m equally lucky to have him in mine,” she said and waved as Ms. Strauss left.
* * *
The following morning, nervous sweat ran down Sadie’s back, causing her blouse to stick to her as she stood, with Chief Thomas, at Sly’s door. After telling Dawson the good news about Ms. Strauss, she’d spent the rest of the day and night thinking about how she could neutralize the threat Sly posed, if not to herself—that had proved impossible, thanks to his obsession—at least to Dawson. And this was the best she could come up with: something she couldn’t tell Dawson about because she knew he’d try to dissuade her.
Although she’d stopped by the police station and asked for an escort, she’d nearly come away without one. None of the other police officers would even speak to her—not like they used to, anyway. A few cast her dark or disgruntled glances. Others muttered under their breath. All gave her a wide berth.
Sly had done a solid job of making her look like the bad guy. No doubt he’d painted her as a woman he couldn’t rely on when he needed her, a wife who wouldn’t support him in his difficult job, an ex who was launching slanderous and unfair accusations and had now taken up with a “known” murderer, as if that was the last piece of proof anyone would ever need in order to be convinced that she was “the problem.”
But she got lucky when Chief Thomas happened to hear her talking to the sergeant at the front desk. Although Dixie Gilbert should’ve been more sympathetic—she and Sadie got their hair done at the same place and were casual acquaintances—Dixie wasn’t about to break rank with her brothers in blue. As the only woman on the force, it was probably hard to fit in, so Sadie could understand. She just couldn’t admire her lack of courage. Dixie was giving Sadie the brush-off by telling her that someone would “be in touch”—while Sadie knew that call would probably never come—when Thomas saw her, came out of his office and asked what was going on. As soon as Sadie told him, he said he’d be happy to drive her over to Sly’s place so that she could speak to him.
Sadie was fairly certain he was hoping to play mediator. He wanted to bring them together so they could arrive at an understanding, one in which she wouldn’t embarrass the department by pursuing the restraining order (she did, after all, have witnesses to Sly’s explosive temper at the restaurant, which gave her legitimate grounds). She, on the other hand, merely wanted the opportunity to deliver a message to him without creating a record on her phone of calling or texting him after telling the police she was afraid of him. She knew how quickly Sly would capitalize on that to try to prove she wasn’t remotely intimidated by him.
As soon as Sly opened the door, squinting out at them and stinking of alcohol, she was glad she hadn’t come alone. Not that she ever would have. She knew better than to give him an opportunity like that. But she was frightened even with Chief Thomas at her side. She’d never seen Sly looking so rough. He’d always been a big drinker. He prided himself on his ability to “hold his liquor.” But that was just it—he’d never been a “sloppy” drunk, never let himself go.
Chief Thomas didn’t like what he saw, either. “What the hell’s the matter with you? You smell like you just crawled out of a bottle.”
Sly managed to stand up straighter. “Couldn’t sleep last night. Insomnia’s a bitch.”
So he’d tried to drink himself into a stupor? Judging by the way the light hurt his eyes, he’d managed that quite nicely—and now he had a raging hangover.
“What are you doing here?” he growled, glaring at her.
Chief Thomas gestured to draw his attention. “Whoa! Let’s not start off like that. We’re here to make peace. Can we come in?”
Sly shook his head. “I don’t want her in this house. She’s the one who walked out of it. But...we can talk in back. Let me comb my hair and brush my teeth. Let yourselves through the side gate and meet me on the patio.” He glared at her. “She knows the way.”
Sadie felt Chief Thomas’s frown, rather than saw it, as she led him through the side yard to the patio. The large barbecue that had been Sly’s pride and joy when they were married stood open without its cover and his barbecuing utensils lay scattered about, along with several plates, some with wasted food, and a slew of empty beer cans.
“Looks like you had a party last night,” Chief Thomas said when the sliding door opened and Sly came out.
“It’s been a few days,” he said with a shrug. “Some of the guys came by. That’s all.” He knocked a plate with a half-eaten hamburger, covered with ants, off the closest chair, swung it around to face them and slouched into it. “What’s going on now? Why are you here?”
“I’m trying to help you save your job. That’s why I’m here,” Chief Thomas said. “And, judging by what Sadie’s told me already, she might be able to help you, too.”
Sly hooked his arm over the back of the chair. “How? She certainly hasn’t helped me so far.”
“Things don’t have to be like this between us, Sly,” Sadie said. He had to get a grip on his life, on the divorce. Soon it would be his weekend to have Jayden, and although he typically didn’t exercise his custodial rights, and he hadn’t mentioned this weekend specifically, he could always surprise her. She wouldn’t put it past him. She didn’t want to let Jayden go with a man who might’ve set fire to their house and who looked so uncharacteristically out of sorts now, even if Sly was his father. “I never wanted any trouble to begin with,” she added. “I’m hoping we can back up, take a deep breath and find some way to avoid the bitter divorce so many others experience.”
“You think you’re going to accomplish that by shacking up with Dawson Reed?”
“Sadie has a right to work—and even sleep—with anyone she wants, Sly,” Thomas interrupted. “You two have been split up for some time. That’s no longer any of your business.”
“I’m not supposed to care?” he argued.
“Caring is one thing. Creating a problem is another.”
“So I’m the problem? What about the restraining order? She knows how that looks—accusing me of stalking her, of being dangerous.” He wiggled his fingers like he was impersonating a bogeyman.
But he was dangerous. Maybe Sadie was the only one who truly believed it, but she was absolutely convinced. That was another reason it scared her to think he could take Jayden this coming weekend.
She cleared her throat. “I’ll forget about the restraining order, so long as you fulfill a few of my requests.”
He looked around as if he was wishing for a beer, despite the fact that it was only ten-thirty in the morning. “I’m all ears,” he said when he couldn’t find an unopened can.
“I want you to stay away from Dawson, quit trying to make his life miserable.”
“I haven’t done shit to that asshole,” he growled.
Maybe he hadn’t done what he wanted to do, but he’d done what he could. “You called the state and tried to convince them not to let him bring his sister home.”
A smile slashed his face as if the mere mention of that was some sort of victory. “I was acting as a concerned citizen.”
“You’re not a concerned citizen. You identified yourself as a police officer and implied you had insider knowledge to suggest that Dawson was guilty. You understood you’d be taken seriously and that you could severely damage his chances to get his sister released, and that’s not fair. You don’t know anything about him, nothing more than what’s in his police file, anyway. And he’s had enough trouble. I don’t want to make his situation any worse, just because he was nice enough to try to help me.”
“Help you?” His gaze swept down over her breasts. “Believe me, he’s getting what he wants out of that deal.”
Sadie squared her shoulders. This wasn’t a topic she cared to discuss in front of Chief Thomas, but she doubted Sly would let her out of it, so she dived in. “If you’re talking about sex, he could get that from plenty of other women, Sly. You’ve said it yourself. Women have a thing for him. It’s not as if he’s hard to look at.”
A glint of surprise and possibly jealousy flashed in his eyes as he rubbed the beard growth on his cheeks. “Got a soft spot for the guy you’re riding these days, do you?” he said when he finally dropped his hand.
“How Sadie feels about Dawson also has nothing to do with this conversation,” Thomas broke in. “She can fall in love with him, sleep with him, marry him, whatever. None of that’s illegal, which means none of it’s your concern—or the concern of the department.”
Afraid that Sly would reject her offer out of hand, Sadie hurried to get back to the conversation. “Not only will I drop the restraining order, I’ll accept your last offer of child support and no alimony.” She wanted to bring up the issue of Sly exercising his parental rights this weekend, but she knew the moment she let him know she didn’t want him to take Jayden, he’d make sure to insist. Her best chance of keeping her son out of his company was to pretend she would welcome the break—so she could spend the weekend alone with Dawson. That was how she planned to handle it if he asked when he could come get Jayden tomorrow.
His bloodshot eyes latched onto her face. “So now you’re in a hurry to get it over with.”
“Yes. That way we can wrap up the divorce and be done with each other.”
Sly spat at the cement as if it were her words that’d left a bad taste in his mouth and not the alcohol he’d drunk before bed. “He doesn’t need you to come over here and beg for him. I’m sure he can take care of himself.”
“He doesn’t even know I’m here, Sly. I doubt he’d agree with it if he did. This is me talking. I want to...to stop what’s happening before it goes any further. I don’t like that you’re out to get him. He’s never done anything to you.”
Sly sprang to his feet. “Except hire a specialist to try to prove me guilty of arson!”
“I’m behind that! It has nothing to do with him.”
“Bullshit! He’s coaching you and helping you and loaning you money and shit.”
Chief Thomas, a dark scowl on his face, rose to his feet. “If you didn’t set that fire, you have nothing to worry about. So what if Sadie and Dawson have hired an independent investigator?”
Sly’s mouth opened and closed twice before he managed to say, “Silver Springs can handle the investigation! We have competent personnel. You’ve said so yourself.”
“That’s true. But if Sadie and Dawson want to pay for someone else to redo the same work, I’m fine with it, because being ‘fine with it’ proves that the department isn’t trying to hide anything, that we’re not merely trying to cover your ass. That aspect should appeal to you, too. If their arson inspector can’t prove you’re guilty, you’ll never have to worry about this popping up again.”
“What if he pretends to find something that isn’t there?” Sly asked.
“What are you talking about?” Thomas snapped. “Why would he do that?”
“Who knows? Maybe they’re paying him a little extra.” Sly focused on Sadie. “Get rid of the investigator, too, or I’m not making any deals with you.”
Sadie couldn’t go that far. If he set the fire, it wasn’t safe to leave him out on the streets. Even if she could get free of him, what would happen to the next woman who became part of his life? “I’m sorry. It’s too late for that. He’ll be here today—in just another hour.”
“You could meet him at the property and send him away.”
“That’s true.” She adjusted her purse in her lap. “But I won’t. I have to do this for my own peace of mind. You say you didn’t do it. I’d like to believe you. But I can’t take your word for it. I need to see what he has to say.”
He kicked over a can near his feet. “You’re so full of bullshit! You come here with my boss, pretending to offer me an olive branch, but you’re still going after me.”
Thomas lifted one eyebrow. “She’s not going after you. She’s going after the criminal who set fire to her house, right?”
Sly flung out a hand. “You’re taking her side?”
Thomas stared him down. “You know what? You’re really starting to piss me off. She’s offering you a fair deal. I suggest you take it.”
“You couldn’t possibly understand all the nuances between us,” Sly argued.
“I don’t need to,” Thomas said. “You’re essentially divorced. She has the right to move on. And you’re going to let her do it. Furthermore, if you set that fire, you’re going to prison. It’s that simple.”
Although Sadie had always suspected Sly was the culprit, she was never more positive of it than in that moment. Something about his expression gave him away. But when he quickly recovered and shouted, “I had nothing to do with it!” he was so convincing.
Was she wrong?
She wanted to believe she was. She just couldn’t.
“Good. Then you have nothing to worry about,” Thomas said. “So we can leave, knowing that you’re going to leave both Sadie and Dawson alone in the future. Is that true?”
“Of course,” Sly grumbled, now sullen, but Sadie knew then that she’d wasted her time coming here. Regardless of what he told Chief Thomas, Sly wouldn’t back off. Maybe he would’ve appreciated her concessions on the restraining order and the divorce if he didn’t have something much bigger to worry about. But he did. He had the fire. And if the truth came out, he’d lose everything that mattered to him, including his freedom.
As Sadie walked out, she realized there was no telling what he might do. She’d never had more reason to be frightened of him.