Moonlight slashed through the holes in the roof that needed patching, illuminating the newly poured foundation. It gleamed under its celestial bath, suggesting that spots of it were still wet.
I started to walk around the barn when Rufus grabbed my arm. I instinctively yanked away.
He flinched but didn’t comment on my action. “Wait,” he murmured, staring into the barn. “What’s that?”
“Foundation,” I replied caustically.
He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“That there.” Without my permission, Rufus stalked into the barn and knelt beside something.
I peered into the open doors and saw a shape in the foundation. Forgetting all about how much I hated Rufus and how it would be best if he didn’t exist, memory or no memory, I strode over, curious.
“What is that?” I said.
“Maybe you shouldn’t see this,” Rufus said, acting like he was one step ahead of me.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I pulled out my phone and snapped on the camera. “I can’t have animals coming in here and ruining the foundation. This will have to be done all over again.”
The light bathed the hump, revealing a pair of feet.
I screamed, dropping the phone. Rufus quickly retrieved it for me. With shaking fingers, I illuminated the body again. Two feet in high heels were embedded in the foundation. One of the heels had fallen off and I wanted to shut my eyes then and not see the rest, but I forced myself to look on.
The feet led to a knee-length skirt and pale pink cardigan, now smudged with concrete. A mess of tangled brown hair covered a face that was embedded in the foundation.
Rufus tenderly placed two fingers alongside the woman’s neck. “She’s passed and cold. It’s too late for us to save her.”
For that moment, I forgot all about Rufus Mayes and how much I hated him. All I cared about was that the body that lay in the concrete, the one that Rufus said was too far gone to be saved, was no stranger to me.
Sadie lay dead. A whimper of sorrow sounded in my throat. Rufus rose and I opened my mouth to accuse him of this, to accuse him of murdering my best friend to get to me. I wanted to tell him that his whole amnesia thing was a ruse, but when his gaze met mine, I knew he’d had nothing to do with this.
Sadness filled his eyes. It wasn’t the same sorrow that rocked my body, making my knees quake, but he felt sympathy all the same.
He squeezed my shoulder, and I turned away to call the police.
Chapter 8
Icalled the chief of police, Tuney Sluggs, who was as old as dirt—literally. The man must’ve been seventy-five with one foot in the grave.
He arrived at the scene in his bathrobe. At least he had the decency to keep it tied. I had no interest in seeing his boxer shorts.
All the other cops in town showed up, too—five in all. There hadn’t been a strange death in Peachwood in so long all the police were trying to figure out exactly how long it had been.
“I think it’s been twenty years,” one deputy said.
Another deputy, with thinning hair and a penchant for spitting out his dip juice at all the wrong times, replied, “No”—spit—“I’m pretty sure it’s been longer than that.”
“No, I say it’s been twenty,” the only one with common sense, Earl Granger, said. Earl was probably early forties and should have been police chief, but the folks kept on voting old Sluggs in. I think because they felt sorry for him.
Sluggs strode up to me. “You find her?”
Rufus stood beside me, and for the first time in my life I was glad for his company. “Yes, we did,” he answered.
“It’s Sadie March all right.”
I wiped away tears. “I know.”
