She drove. She saw the road, the rare other vehicles, the sky, the trees, all with no consciousness of seeing them. Except to notice the designs the lengthening shadows of budding trees made on the road’s surface.
Designs…
Patterns.
They look like each other — and you.
Had Charlotte followed a pattern?
Are you testing if I know up-to-date research says many serial killers don’t stick to the rigid timelines and MOs popular media portrays? I do.
J.D. said that at the Monday briefing. He was right.
The image of serial killers operating like clockwork was only one behavior. They could react to triggers that had nothing to do with time, sometimes spaced out, sometimes not.
Had Charlotte’s trigger been thinking Pan and Laurel would get their happy endings — Pan going off with J.D., Laurel getting the money she wanted from Eugene.
But, wait, how could Charlotte know Pan was going off with J.D.? Only Rick and the divorce lawyer had known that. Everyone else thought Pan was going to stay, to work on the marriage.
Except the mysterious “someone coming.” Pan could have told that person.
Charlotte?
Standing up on that ridge, in the woods, watching Pan until her shoes sank deep in the muck?
It was possible. Emotions strong enough to drive someone to murder could overcome other habits.
But which emotions had been strong enough?
Had Pan been killed because the murderer thought she was going back to her husband? Or because the killer knew she wasn’t?
And the same thing with Laurel.
Another connection — the uncertainty of their marital futures.
Patterns.
What was it Renee Tagner said about men following a pattern when it came to affairs of the heart?
More’n likely it starts with their mama’s like those old Greek plays say… and unless they’re smart enough to heed a strong woman, they keep repeatin’ it.
Eugene, for sure. Rick Wade, with his affairs.
Ed Smith?
Being controlled by Blankenship women, perhaps. Anything else?
J.D. Carson.
He had let Pan go — telling her to go back to her husband. Just now he’d told her to go back to her job.
But she wasn’t part of this pattern. She was outside of it. Except for the calls.
And the break-ins?
No sign there’d been break-ins for Pan or Laurel. But then they’d been living with their families. Harder for anyone to break in undetected.
Complicated families.
Jamie and Ally. … Aunt Vivian.
Not going there.
Stick to patterns. What Renee had said.
But instead of Renee Tagner’s voice in her head, she heard Mrs. Barrett’s.
Teddie would talk about the other boys, this one saying that funny thing and that one making this joke, but the names came so fast and it seemed all were the same, if you know what I mean. This one somebody’s brother or uncle or cousin.
Why did that gnaw at her? Gnawing — like the something in the transcript? God, if something was telling her to dig deeper into Teddie’s death, she hoped she had better luck than she’d had with the transcript.
There was no indication Charlotte had a motive for hurting Teddie.
Didn’t fit any pattern.
Jealousy could give her a motive to kill Pan, certainly to kill Laurel. And covering her tracks could explain Rick Wade if he got on to something. But then why was he making those phone calls? Happenstance? And what about Teddie?
His mother did some sewing for Charlotte, but what direct dealings did she have with him? Certainly not sitting in Shenny’s plying him with drinks, directing his memories. They’d have heard that.
No. To have Charlotte be the murderer, Teddie’s death had to be an accident.
Her gut said it wasn’t.
She chuckled shakily. Great. Listening to her gut.
Her phone rang. Audio caller ID announced Nancy Quinn.
“I heard about the arrest of the judge’s older daughter. Where are you?” her assistant asked.
“On the way back.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound it.”
“Nancy—”
“Fine. I’ll butt out. Heard Bel got you some intel. Any help? Did it fit in?”
Fit in with the pattern.
Maggie braked, saw a crossroad ahead, braked harder, and flipped on her signal.
“No, it didn’t help. Yes, it fit in.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m going back, Nancy.”
“You mean you’re coming back.”
“No. I’m turning around and going back to Bedhurst. You’re right. What Bel found doesn’t point to Charlotte, but it does fit the pattern. That needs to be looked at.”
Nancy was silent a moment. “I don’t know what that’s about, but you sound more like yourself. The most like yourself you’ve sounded since you went up there. Hell, since before you got involved with Isaacson. What should I tell Vic in the morning?”
“Nothing.”
Maggie could imagine Nancy’s smile as she said, “My favorite thing to tell Vic Upton.”
* * * *
Once headed toward Bedhurst, Maggie hit speed dial.
“I’m not going to make lunch tomorrow.”
“Oh?” There was something odd in Jamie’s voice. Not the usual I’m-too-upbeat-to-show-I’m-disappointed tone that served up double scoops of guilt.
“They’ve arrested someone in Bedhurst.”
“But then why…?”
Was Jamie asking why was she headed back there or why was she telling Jamie about it? Couldn’t blame her for either question. Neither answer made much sense based on Maggie’s history.
“I don’t think she’s the one — well, she is the one who pushed my car down a ravine, but—”
“Pushed your car—? With you in it?”
“Yes, but—”
“My God, Maggie — Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. A little sore, but fine. J.D. got me out in time.”
“In time,” Jamie echoed faintly. Maggie regretted the phrase. Jamie had already moved on. “J.D.? J.D. Carson? The guy you prosecuted up there?”
Now she regretted saying anything. “Yes. It’s complicated. But maybe it’s one of those omens you like so much, because it turns out I forgot to give the key back when I left. Anyway, the point is, I’m not going to make lunch. There’s more to do up here. You and Ally—”
“What more is there to do up there? What do you know, Maggie?”
“Know? Not much. It’s not a matter of knowing.” She gave a harsh laugh. “You’ll love this, Jamie. It doesn’t feel right.
* * * *
6:45 p.m.
Maggie hadn’t seen Bedhurst anywhere close to busy this week, but Sunday evening, sliding into twilight, it was beyond slow.
No visiting cars remained around Monroe House. Nothing stirred.
If Dallas and Evelyn were smart they were tucked up for a long nap or early-to-bed. He’d looked wan at brunch. Relieved, but wan. The man definitely needed rest. She felt the effects of a sleep deficit herself.
She sent Dallas a text that she’d returned, was in the guesthouse, and they needed to talk as soon as he was rested.
In the guesthouse bedroom she unpacked only the files. The rest could wait.
She spread them out on the bed, organizing them one way, then another. Jotting notes on a legal pad.
Then she picked up the transcript and began reading again.
Commonwealth v. J.D. Carson
Closing Statement Excerpts
Assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney Margaret Frye
Reason, not emotions.
Mr. Monroe has focused your attention on emotions during this trial. The story of a man from a difficult background who seemed to make good in his adult life. He has focused on emotions because that is all he has.
What you have are facts. Reason and facts that the testimony of all these witnesses have given you.
Even J.D. Carson acknowledges that his relationship with Pan Addington Wade had taken a turn from the friendship they had enjoyed since she befriended him in childhood. Even J.D. Carson acknowledges that they had spent a great deal of time together and that they were seen in public places in intense and intimate conversations. Even J.D. Carson acknowledges that he had given her the address and phone number for an apartment complex near where he was posted at the time. And here is where your reason is put to use — why would he give that to her if he didn’t want her to leave her husband and run away with him?
And, finally, even J.D. Carson acknowledges that Pandora Wade had been last seen by him at the spot where she was found dead — also by him. The defense asks you to believe that she drove him there, they had an ordinary conversation, then he left, walking down the path to his cabin in the woods. What? No breadcrumbs to follow later? Because it sounds just like a fairy tale doesn’t it?
The defendant also says that he heard no gunshot.
For that to be true, there would have to be a gap between the time he says he left her and the time she was murdered.
Apply your reason here, too. Why would Pandora Wade remain by her car after J.D. Carson left after this friendly, ordinary conversation? Waiting for some stranger to happen along and kill her? Pure coincidence?
And what about the other facts we have given you? Pandora Wade was shot with her own gun. There was no sign of struggle, no signs she was trying to get away or escape. Reason says that rules out the stranger-happening-past theory. Reason says she was killed by someone she knew, someone she trusted. Someone she never believed would hurt her.
And here are more facts for your reason to consider. J.D. Carson found Pandora Wade’s body. He would have plenty of opportunity to remove or alter evidence at the crime scene. Ah, but there was no evidence at the crime scene, was there — because someone had time to wipe it away, thinking he had erased every bit of it.
But he didn’t. Not every bit of it. Not Pandora Wade’s hair wrapped around the cuff button of the shirt you’ve heard witnesses testify he was wearing that last day of Pandora Wade’s life.
And here’s another fact for you to consider. J.D. Carson is a trained killer. An expert marksman. A man who could shoot Pandora Wade through the heart in a blink.
The last to see her alive, the first to find her dead body. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the murderer of Pandora Addington Wade. That is J.D. Carson.