SAY YOU LOVE ME (Eva Rae Thomas Mystery Book 4) Read online

  “But you still miss her,” Annie said.

  “It’s hard not to,” he said, then nodded, “Goodnight.”

  Matt walked to the car and got in. He sat for a few minutes and just stared into the darkness. Why was he dragging it out? Was it really that hard for him to go home?

  Matt started the car up with a deep sigh. It was hard for him. His son, Elijah, waited at home. Matt’s mother had taken care of him all day, and now Matt was supposed to put him to bed. He had promised his mother that he’d at least come home in time to do that. She wanted him to prioritize the boy more, to spend more time with him, but Matt found himself trying to find excuses to stay at work. Why? Because Elijah hated his guts. The way he spoke to him or even ignored him tormented Matt.

  Matt hadn’t been in the boy’s life until recently when his mother died. And since the boy now blamed Matt for the death of his mother, things didn’t exactly go down smoothly at the house. Matt found himself taking on more work and dragging out the day just so he didn’t have to deal with him when he came home.

  It wasn’t a good way to deal with this; he knew that much, and Eva Rae kept telling him so. But he didn’t know how else to deal with it. He felt like he had tried everything, yet nothing made things better. With Eva Rae out of town, he had no reason to leave work at all.

  Matt thought about Eva Rae as he drove down A1A and stopped at the Sunoco on the corner. He wanted to buy a few beers to take home and maybe some candy for the boy. Maybe he could buy his love with some sweets.

  Matt parked and walked inside to get the stuff, then came back out just as a black Lincoln Navigator drove up. Matt sighed when he saw Chad step out of it. Chad — Eva Rae’s ex — had landed some very high-paid sales job and the brand new 2019 Navigator was leased to him by the company. He wore that smirk on his face as he approached Matt, giving him a casual wave.

  “Hi there, buddy.”

  Buddy. It made him cringe every time Chad called him that. It was patronizing just like everything else with Chad was. Matt didn’t understand why Eva Rae had ever married the guy.

  “Just stopping by to get some candy for our kids,” Chad said. “I see you got the same idea.”

  He looked at the bag of candy in Matt’s hand.

  Our kids. Chad always made sure to rub that one in Matt’s face every chance he got. Making sure Matt knew they shared a family, while he and Eva Rae didn’t. Matt loathed that this man had been married to Eva Rae and had three children with her. He hated even more that Chad was back in Eva Rae’s life again. It was good for the kids, but not for Eva Rae. Matt feared he’d end up hurting her again. The guy cheated on her for more than a year of their marriage. In Matt’s book, that’s not something that is easily forgotten. How anyone could ever do anything like that to Eva Rae was a mystery to Matt. It showed the guy’s character, and men like him weren’t very likely to change. At least not in Matt’s experience. Eva Rae didn’t see it in quite the same way. She believed in giving people second chances, she said when they discussed it. Besides, it was only for the children’s sake that she let him back into her life again.

  But Matt wasn’t so sure it was that easy. He was certain that Chad was trying to get Eva Rae back.

  “Anyway, I should be going …” Matt said.

  “Of course, yeah. Well, it was nice seeing you again, buddy. I’ll tell Eva Rae I bumped into you when she calls to say goodnight to the kids. See ya.”

  Matt stared at him, nostrils flaring lightly as Chad entered the shop.

  “Or maybe I’ll tell her when I talk to her...first,” he mumbled, then got back in the car and took off, slamming his fist into the steering wheel.

  Chapter Seven

  “Who said dumpster diving can’t be classy?”

  Evelyn looked into the camera of her phone and smiled. She was wearing a black and white striped dress and a fake pearl necklace with earrings and a bracelet to match. Her black hair was straightened and pulled back in a ponytail, also held up by white plastic pearls, as she stepped out of her car, holding the phone up so all of her viewers could follow her every move. She always recorded what she did with her phone and then uploaded it to YouTube later. She had twelve thousand subscribers who loved to get good advice on finding stuff in other people’s garbage.

  “Remember how I found a set of brand-new kitchen towels last week? This was the place I found it, tags on and everything. Nothing wrong with them, just tossed because people didn’t like what they looked like or whatnot. Who knows why ‘em rich folks throw out stuff that is brand new and unused?”

  Evelyn grabbed her tote bag and walked to the dumpster, still filming herself. She stopped in front of a big green dumpster.

  “Now, the best places to go, I think I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again to all of my new viewers who haven’t been around so long and seen all of my earlier videos. But the best places to go dumpster diving is first of all affluent neighborhoods like the one I am standing in right now.”

  Evelyn turned the camera so her viewers could see all the big condominiums surrounding the park.

  “All of those condos over there are oceanfront,” she continued. “And owned by lots of rich folks from up north who come to Amelia Island and throw out all of that good stuff that I show you. Y’all remember the tablecloth with the nice skirt on it, the silver one I showed you a few weeks ago? Also from this dumpster. It had never been used, nuh-uh. Taken out of its original packaging, but never used. Some folks are just pigs, throwing out all that good stuff. But you know what I say; one woman’s trash is another woman’s treasure; yes, it sure is. Now the second-best place to go is behind retail stores, like behind Bealls or JJ Cooper. All those returns that they can’t re-shelve, they go straight into the dumpster, did you know that? I haven’t bought new clothes in ten years. I find all of my clothes behind these stores. Stick around, and I’ll show you later on.”

  Evelyn turned the camera to face the dumpster in front of her. “Now, let’s see what this baby has for us today.”

  She lifted the lid till it was fully open, then filmed inside. “Now, what you see here is mostly trash bags, and some of it is worthless, but if you just lift one bag and then look further in … ah-ha, see here.”

  Evelyn pulled out a roll of wrapping paper. “See, this is brand new. Never even been unwrapped. Perfect for my son’s birthday that is coming up. I haven’t bought wrapping paper in years. I always find these brand-new rolls. Now let’s see what else is in here.”

  She put the roll on the ground next to the dumpster, then looked down again. She grabbed a plastic bag and pulled it open. She looked inside, then grimaced. “Nope. Nothing but trash, yak. All right, let’s look a little over here.”

  She moved the stinky trash bag to the side, then looked underneath it. She grabbed a grey trash bag and pulled it up toward her.

  “Now, this looks promising. It’s long and seems hard. Something big inside of that one, I’m sure. This looks like a scoop. Let me just see what it can be,” she said and pulled it upward. But it was heavy, and she had to give up. Instead, she pulled it open and peeked inside.

  “What’s in there?” she mumbled, still holding the camera so the viewers could follow along. “What is that? Is it a mannequin doll? Now, who would throw out a …”

  Evelyn went quiet. She stared at the head inside the bag, heart pounding in her chest. Then she turned to the camera and felt like she should say something, yet she couldn’t. There simply were no words for this. Instead, she turned the recording off, then called nine-one-one instead.

  Chapter Eight

  THEN:

  “I don’t understand. Why am I here?”

  Marlene looked at the two law enforcement officers in front of her. They had come to her house earlier in the morning and asked her to go with them. They were wearing badges, but she didn’t know if they were police officers since they were in civilian clothes. They had presented themselves as criminal investigators and nearly given her a heart attac
k. They had told her nothing about why they were taking her to the station or what was going on, even though she asked again and again during the car ride there.

  “What is this regarding?” she asked again. It felt like a terrible song playing on repeat. “Did something happen?”

  The one on the right leaned forward and cleared his throat. She couldn’t remember if he was the one that had presented himself as Rivers or if it was the other one. She was pretty sure he was Rivers and the other was Waltman.

  Marlene shook her head. It didn’t matter. She just wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible and get back to her kitchen. She was supposed to make chicken for dinner tonight and had left it out on the counter when they came for her. She feared the dog was going to eat it before she got back, and then she’d have nothing to serve tonight.

  “It’s regarding your son,” the one she was pretty sure was Rivers said. He had a goatee that he kept rubbing.

  Marlene looked at him, baffled. Her heart started to pound at the mention of her son.

  “My son? He’s in school. Did he do something? Did he get himself in trouble? Did something happen to him?”

  “Now, I need you to calm down, ma’am,” Waltman said and stretched his hand out toward her like it would help her feel less agitated. “We’re here to conduct an investigation. Your son is all right. He’s in safe hands.”

  “What do you mean he’s in safe hands?” Marlene asked. “Of course, he is. My son is always in safe hands.”

  “It means he’s with protective services and they’ll keep him there till we have conducted our investigation.”

  Marlene wrinkled her forehead. What on Earth were they talking about? It had to be some mistake. All of it. Her being taken there, what they were saying now.

  “Investigation? But … why is he with protective services? I don’t understand,” she said, feeling frustrated. She was wasting her entire day doing this, being there, and frankly, was just waiting for them to realize there had been a mistake. It was the wrong woman or the wrong child. Something. “Could someone please tell me what is going on here? What is this investigation?”

  Rivers cleared his throat again and sipped from his coffee cup. It took forever before he put it down, and Marlene felt like screaming at him.

  “We’re investigating your husband,” he finally said. “We have reason to believe that he is abusing your son.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Mom, Christine and Alex aren’t helping with the bunnies at all. I’m the one doing all the work.”

  I held the phone close to my ear while listening to my daughter, Olivia. She was the oldest of the three with her fifteen years to Christine’s thirteen and Alex’s seven.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, not very interested, but just enjoying hearing my daughter’s voice. It was Chad that had promised them they could have bunnies, and I was never asked about it, probably because they knew I would have said no. I knew it was going to cause problems, and so it did. The kids were constantly fighting about them and who was supposed to do what.

  “I cleaned the cage three days ago, and now it needs to be cleaned again,” she continued. “I feed them in the morning and give them water, and Christine and Alex never do any of it. I don’t want to have to clean the cage again.”

  I was sitting in the waiting room, in a lonely spot where no one could hear me, taking a break from what went on in the hospital room. The kids were staying with their dad while I was gone for a few days.

  “How’s the boy doing?” Olivia asked. “Your brother? My … uncle? Gosh, it sounds weird to say that.”

  “Especially since he’s the same age as you,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know, to be honest. The doctors don’t know much either.”

  Olivia went quiet. “So … did he really take a gun to school and start shooting?”

  “Mm-hm,” I said.

  “Who does that?”

  I shrugged with a sigh. It was a thought that kept bothering me as well. What kind of a kid was my brother? “Someone who is mentally ill, probably.”

  “But … is he that?”

  “I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t think he has a diagnosis. I am not sure he was ever evaluated.”

  “Did he show any signs? You know … before he did it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know … you hear these stories about the shooters, how they’ve talked online about doing it or written something on social media about it.”

  I took in a deep breath. “I haven’t … I haven’t actually talked to his dad about any of this.”

  “Maybe you should,” she said like it was the simplest thing in the world. I hadn’t spoken to my dad for thirty-six years, and I could barely stand the sight of him or be in the same room as him. Why didn’t I just talk to him about the brother I didn’t know existed for fifteen years?

  “It’s not that easy, sweetie,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  I exhaled. “It’s complicated. Listen, kiss your siblings for me, will you? I need to get back.”

  “Bye, Mom.”

  We hung up, and I stared at the display on my phone. I found Matt’s number and was about to call him when Sydney came into the room, a distressed look on her face.

  “Something has happened,” she said. “You need to come.”

  Chapter Ten

  The man in the blue car drove up in front of the liquor store and stopped the engine. He stared in the mirror at his own reflection, and at the alligator-shaped scar on his cheek, then let out a deep sigh. He stepped out of the car, looked over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t seen, then rushed inside the store.

  The store’s manager behind the counter didn’t even look up from his phone as he entered. The store was nearly empty, only some older guy standing by the beers, wearing a hat and his jacket covering half of his face.

  The man grabbed a bottle of vodka, then sighed when thinking about how he ought to stop, how this bottle was definitely going to be the last one. The man with the scar paid the cashier and grabbed the brown bag, then turned around when the man from earlier in the brown jacket stood right behind him, and he knocked into him. The man dropped his phone from his hand.

  What an idiot. He doesn’t deserve to live.

  “Here, let me give you a hand,” the man with the scar said. He picked up the phone and handed it to the man with the six-pack in his hand. The man smiled underneath his hat.

  “Thank you. That is very kind of you.”

  “No problem.”

  He’s nothing but an object to you — a means to an end. You kill him and receive your reward.

  The man with the scar smiled and let the man with the hat pay for the beer. The man with the scar walked outside and was smoking a cigarette as the other came out, holding his beers in a bag. Rain had started to pour down.

  “Just gonna wait it out,” the man with the scar said as smoke emerged from between his lips. His eyes lingered on the other man. He had opened the bottle of vodka inside of the brown bag and took a sip while thunder crackled above them. “Just the walk to the car is gonna soak me.”

  “Me too,” the man with the hat said. He looked at the cigarettes. “Say, do you mind?”

  “Not at all,” the man with the scar said and handed him a cigarette. He lit it with his lighter. The man with the hat blew out smoke with a relieved sigh.

  “Been a while, huh?”

  He’s nothing but a piece in a puzzle. An object to reach your goal. You kill for one reason only.

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “I know how it feels — been trying to quit for years. Same with this,” he said and lifted the brown bag to his lips.

  The man with the hat nodded.

  To get famous.

  “I’m Jeff, by the way,” the man with the scar said and reached out his hand.

  “E.T,” the other man said with the cigarette sticking out between his lips and his eyes half-closed to avoid th
e smoke.

  “E.T, huh? What an unusual name.”

  They shook hands. Two men waiting out the rain. Two men meeting by coincidence. All of it was quite ordinary and boring really if it hadn’t been for the fact that one of them was a killer who had already begun filming his future victim using his phone.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I’m going to kill him!”

  I rushed back from the waiting area when I heard the loud voices. Outside of my brother’s hospital room, I saw a man in his mid-forties, his face red. He was being held back by Deputy Corel from the sheriff’s office, who had been guarding Adam’s room. David was standing by the door, a look of terror on his face.

  “What’s going on?” I asked and stepped closer to David. “Who is he?”

  David’s nostrils were flaring, and he looked at me, terrified. Tears were springing to his eyes, and he could hardly speak.

  “He’s Allyson’s father,” he finally said.

  “And … Allyson is?”

  David stared at me, shaking his head. I could hear Allyson’s dad still screaming and yelling. Deputy Corel was talking to him in a strained manner.

  “You need to calm down, Ryan, or I’ll have to take you to the station; you hear me? You have to calm down.”

  Ryan nodded and stopped fighting him. The deputy eased up. Ryan stared at David, his lips quivering.

  “He killed her, you bastard; your son killed my daughter!”

  “I … I’m …” David said, holding a hand to his chest. Allyson’s dad held up a phone where some video was playing.

  “See for yourself. This went viral this morning. She was pulled out of a dumpster. Your son killed her and threw her out like she was trash! Trash! My daughter, my beloved Allyson!”

  “Was she killed at the school?” I asked, confused, looking from one to the other.

  David shook his head. “She wasn’t in school that day. She’s been missing since … since two nights before, and no one knew where she was. We’d all hoped and prayed that she’d turn up alive …”