Her sister’s casual tone was like nails on a chalkboard.

“I was there,” Madison replied in the same tone.

That made Emily swing around, her eyes narrowing, a slight frown on her face. “I didn’t see you.”

“I was standing by Uncle Rod. I saw you at the back with the two FBI agents.”

“I didn’t notice Rod either. I bumped into Agent McLane in the parking lot.” Emily’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Agent Wells showed up later.”

Madison cocked her head at the subtle change in her sister’s tone as she mentioned Agent Wells.

She’s attracted to him too.

Her mouth twitched as she studied Emily. How long would it take them to realize it was mutual? Madison wasn’t jealous; Agent Wells was attractive but not her type; he kept himself restrained behind his cool exterior.

The agent’s and her sister’s mutual attraction was a moot point. Any professional would know better than to become involved with a witness in a murder investigation.

“It got pretty heated in there,” Madison said, just to keep the conversation going. “Sounds like no one knows what’s going on.”

“Two days haven’t even passed since they died,” Emily snapped as she glared at her sister. “This is real life, not TV. Murders aren’t solved in an episode.”

Madison lifted her chin. “I’m well aware of how long Lindsay’s been dead.” The words were spoken to dig at her sister, but they pierced her own heart. Her breath seized at the sharp pain, and she looked away.

She felt Emily’s perceptive gaze on her and fought to get her mourning under control.

“It’s like losing another sister,” Emily said.

Sister . . .

“Tara’s not dead.” Madison refused to believe it. Anger emboldened her. She brushed her hair off her shoulder and met Emily’s stare. “Why does no one care or talk about Tara? Why did we let her push us out of her life?”

Her sister’s face went blank. “Her life, her decision. If she doesn’t want anything to do with us, so be it.”

Madison glared. “I can’t believe you’re still that cold.”

“I simply said what everyone else is thinking.”

“This is our sister we’re talking about. Don’t you care?”

“Tara left; she had that right. Something made her decide to put a lot of space between us and herself, and until she wants to talk about it, it’s none of our business.”

“But what on earth would make her never contact any of us? Don’t you ever wonder?”

“No.” Emily spun around to her papers. “Let it go, Madison.”

Madison stared at her back. This wasn’t the Emily she knew. Emily released spiders outdoors instead of killing them. She let senior citizens talk her ear off for an hour at the diner without interrupting once. She was blunt, but Emily proved over and over that she was a caring human being. Except when it came to Tara.

“What did Tara do to you?” Madison whispered as the hair rose on her arms. Something wasn’t being said.

“Go to bed, Madison.”

“You’re not a fucking post without feelings. Why will no one talk about this? Why am I the only person who’s bothered to search for our sister?”

Emily said nothing.

Suddenly light-headed, Madison took a half step back, understanding that secrets were being kept and it was possible that lies had been told about Tara for decades. She touched the bulge of the watch in her pocket. More lies.

What is going on?

17

Madison guzzled an energy drink for breakfast as she quickly handled the mess in the mansion’s kitchen and kept an eye on the time. She needed to be out the door in five minutes to get to the diner by six thirty. Her aunts had left dishes on the counter from what appeared to be apple pie and vanilla ice cream. Dessert must have been needed after last night’s meeting.

“Morning, dear. Is there coffee yet?” Dory yawned. Her white hair was flat against her head on one side, and mismatched slippers peeked from below her faded chenille robe. Thea and Vina had the same robe.

“I’ll get it started for you.” Madison snatched the carafe and held it under the faucet. “I don’t make coffee the mornings I work. I get mine at the diner.”

“Oh. I guess Thea makes it on those days. It’s always ready when I come down.” Dory peered at the clock on the microwave. “My goodness. I didn’t realize it was so early.” She rubbed her backside. “My sciatica bothered me all night. Nothing I take seems to touch the pain. It’s been good for months, so I don’t know why it’s suddenly acting up.”

Madison knew all about Dory’s sciatica woes. The doctor had assured Madison that her great-aunt had the healthy spine of a fifteen-year-old and suggested the lower pain was from something else. Madison measured coffee grounds into the filter. “Maybe it flared up from those hard pews last night. They always make me sore.”

Her aunt’s mouth opened in a large O. “I bet you’re right. It was impossible to get comfortable during that meeting. Thea threatened to sit elsewhere if I didn’t hold still. You’re a smart girl.” She chuckled and patted Madison’s arm. “You look very nice today.”

Dory always gave her a compliment when Madison wore the wide-legged swishy jumpsuit. It felt like weightless silk against her skin, and she knew few people could pull off the thick black and white vertical stripes the way she could. Emily hated the jumpsuit. Which might have been part of the reason Madison had put it on that morning. A slicked-back high pony along with nude makeup—except for her favorite fire engine–red lipstick—completed her look du jour.

“Is Emily up?” Dory asked.

“No. She doesn’t work until later.”

Madison closed the top of the coffee maker and hit the START button, wondering if Dory knew anything about her father’s pocket watch. Like how in the hell something that was missing for about twenty years had suddenly turned up in Emily’s drawer.

“Dory . . . do you remember that pocket watch that Dad always carried around?”

“Of course.” She tilted her head, sympathy in her eyes. “Have you been thinking about your father?”

“Sometimes. I remember how upset Mom was about its disappearance.”

A wistful expression crossed her aunt’s face. “She was crushed, the poor thing. I think it was the one thing that she truly missed of your father’s. It would have been a good keepsake.”

“It never turned up?”

Confusion wrinkled the soft skin of Dory’s forehead. “Not that I know of. I think I’d remember that.”

The conversation wasn’t revealing the information Madison wanted.

“It was horrible what was done to your father, leaving you girls with nothing. Even he didn’t deserve that.”

Even he?

“You think so?” Madison asked casually, watching the coffee start to stream into the pot.

“Oh yes. Even with the kind of man he was, that sort of cruelty shouldn’t happen to anyone.”

Chills lifted the hair on Madison’s forearms. No one had ever spoken of her father in those terms.

“What did people say?”

Dory yawned again. “Is the coffee almost done?”

“It’s barely started. Give it a few minutes. You were going to tell me what people said about Dad.”

“Oh, you know. Just talk. It meant nothing.” She gazed longingly at the coffee maker.

Has Dory never made coffee?

“I know people used to spread rumors.” Madison knew nothing of the sort, but she hoped it would fuel the chatty moment Dory had started.

“Oh yes. People are cruel. Your poor mother. We all begged her not to marry him.”

Madison’s head spun. Again. She’d never heard such talk.

“Poor Mom. How did she handle it?”

Dory waved a dismissive hand. “Like she handled everything. She did whatever the hell she wanted. Look what it got her.”

Is Dory drunk? Madison subtly leaned toward her aunt and sniffed the air. Nothing.

“I’m so sorry, dear. It was very unfair to you children. Tara most of all.”

What was unfair?

Madison didn’t want Dory to stop but knew the conversation was treading on thin ice. Either Madison would hear something she did not want to hear, or Dory would lose her train of thought and the moment would be over. “Why do you think it was the worst for Tara?”

“Well, she was older. People viewed and treated her as an adult.” She shook her head sadly. “She was still a child. It was so wrong.”

“It was wrong.” Madison had no idea what she’d just agreed with.

“It was the money, you know. Everything was always about the money.” Dory sighed. “But that had been gone for years. No one knew. Even today they still believe we’re rich.” She opened a cupboard and frowned. “Oh, my cows. Are there any Pop-Tarts left? The cinnamon ones are perfect with coffee.”

Madison was lost, and she suspected Dory was too. She automatically opened the adjoining cupboard and handed Dory the Pop-Tarts box. “People like to gossip about the Barton money?” Madison already knew this was true. She’d heard the gossip all her life.