The Widows of Braxton County Read online

  “When will we get the autopsy results back?” the first voice continued.

  “Soon, but based on the initial examination, the emergency room doc is convinced his death was caused by internal bleeding.”

  His poor family, Kate thought dimly. Wait, what were two men doing having a conversation outside her bedroom at Rose’s? Was the TV on in Rose’s room? She brushed her face with her hand and felt something cool touch her skin. She struggled to open her eyes, then jerked to a sitting position.

  A clear bag of liquid was strung from an IV pole to the bed and a thin plastic tube ran from the bag into her right arm. Kate stared in terror at the liquid drip . . . dripping into the tube.

  Reality crashed in, chasing away the fogginess from her mind. It wasn’t a nightmare.

  “No . . . no,” she gasped. Grief clawed its way into her mind and heart.

  “God, no,” she cried.

  “Nurse,” one of the voices called out, “I think she’s awake.”

  The door swung open and a nurse, along with two men, entered the room. The men were Sheriff Tom Shaw and the other man who’d been with him last night. Kate’s head began to pound. What was the other man’s name?

  Both men hung back as the nurse checked Kate’s vitals. When she had finished, she patted Kate’s arm. “Everything looks fine. We’ll be back later to take out the IV, then you should be able to go home.”

  After the nurse left, the men approached her bed.

  “Joe’s dead, isn’t he?” she asked bleakly as the tears ran down her face.

  The sheriff nodded. “Do you remember Detective Shepherd?” he asked, handing Kate a tissue from a box on the nightstand.

  “Yes,” she answered in a thick voice.

  Sheriff Shaw noticed a glass of water and handed it to her.

  Kate took a sip. “How long have I been here?”

  “Since last night. Dr. Adams said that you were in shock, and he wanted to keep you overnight for observation. Mrs. Clement and Will Krause were here for part of the night, but Will took Mrs. Clement home so she could rest. They’ll be back later when you’re released.” He exchanged a look with Detective Shepherd, then with a nod, moved to the window.

  Detective Shepherd pulled a chair over to the bed. “I need you to answer a few questions. Are you feeling up to it?”

  She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, then nodded.

  “When was the last time you spoke with Joe?” Detective Shepherd asked.

  “Yesterday morning,” she replied, clearing her throat.

  “Did you call him?”

  “No, he called me.”

  “Why?”

  Kate took another drink of water, stalling in order to gather her thoughts. Somehow telling these strangers about their marital problems seemed disloyal to Joe. He couldn’t tell his side of the story.

  “Kate,” Detective Shepherd said quietly, “we know you were separated.”

  She had a dim memory of someone mentioning it last night, but did they know the reason why she had left Joe? Joe’s reputation was all he’d left behind, and she wanted to protect it.

  “We were separated, but were working on mending our marriage. Joe wanted to talk to me in person.”

  “You agreed?”

  “Yes. I debated—” No, that will open a line of questions that I don’t want to answer. Better keep my responses short. “Yes.”

  Detective Shepherd flipped opened a notebook and quickly scanned it. “You’re staying with Rose Clement?”

  “Yes.”

  “What time did you leave Rose’s?”

  Kate rubbed her forehead. “About eleven thirty.”

  “What time did you arrive at the farm?”

  “I didn’t go straight to the farm. I’m a receptionist for Doc Adams, and I stopped by the office to finish some last-minute billings.”

  Detective Shepherd scribbled on his notepad. “Is it normal for you to go in on a Saturday?”

  “No, but I hadn’t finished the statements and wanted to get them done.”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “No, the office was closed.” Kate’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “No reason. We’re just trying to establish exactly what happened yesterday. How long were you at Doc’s office?”

  “I left at twelve forty-six.”

  Detective Shepherd cocked his head. “Not twelve forty-five or twelve fifty?”

  “No, I glanced at the clock on my way out the door.”

  He made another note on his pad. “What did you do next?”

  “I drove out to the farm.”

  “Did you see anyone on your way out there?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you notice any other vehicles on the road on your way to the farm?”

  “No.”

  “What time did you arrive?”

  “A little after one.”

  “Were any other vehicles parked in the driveway?”

  “I parked out by Joe’s office, so I don’t know.”

  “Why did you park there instead of in the main driveway, then walk over from the house?”

  “I didn’t—” She stopped herself again. Another thing that they don’t need to know—my conflict with Trudy. “I—ah—well—there was a storm moving in,” she said quickly as she picked at the wadded-up tissue in her palm, “and I didn’t want to get caught in the rain.”

  “I see,” Detective Shepherd said in a neutral voice as he wrote again on his pad. “What happened next?”

  “I went inside Joe’s office.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual?”

  She thought about the notice of the lawsuit lying on Joe’s desk. “Not really,” she hedged. “The lights were on and so was his computer. His cell phone was on his desk. I assumed he’d be coming right back.”

  “But you didn’t go looking for him?”

  “No. No, I didn’t.”

  “How long did you wait?”

  Kate rubbed her temples, trying to ease the throbbing of her skull. “I don’t know . . . I found the kitten—” She drew a sharp breath. “The kitten! . . . It’s out—”

  Detective Shepherd held up a hand. “You mentioned the cat last night,” he said brusquely. “Mrs. Clement took it home with her when she left.”

  Kate teared up again. “Joe was giving me the kitten as a present . . . he killed the other one . . .” she began to babble, wiping her eyes with the shredded tissue.

  “The cat’s okay,” Detective Shepherd said, his tone short. “Back to your actions yesterday—”

  “I already told you. I waited for Joe and played with the cat,” she cut in, tired of answering all the questions. Why couldn’t they leave her alone and let her grieve?

  She exhaled slowly, then continued. “After Rose called and said Joe was in the hospital, I drove here. You know the rest.”

  “Did your husband have any enemies?”

  Kate frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Was there anyone he felt had a reason to harm him?”

  She shook her head in confusion.

  Detective Shepherd shut his notebook and stood. “Mrs. Krause,” he said, looking down at her. “You haven’t asked how your husband died.”

  He was right. She hadn’t. It was all such a shock, she couldn’t think straight. God, she wished they’d go away.

  “I assumed it was a farm accident,” she said halfheartedly.

  “Your husband died as a result of a knife wound in his back. Someone stabbed him.”

  When Rose arrived to drive Kate and her Jeep back to the farm that afternoon, she appeared to have aged over the past twenty-four hours. Her skin had a gray pallor to it and her eyes had lost some of their sparkle.

  “Are you okay?” Kate asked once Rose had settled her into the car and they were on their way back to her farm.

  “Joe’s death has shocked everyone, but don’t worry about us. You’re the one who’s lost her husband. What did the sheriff say?”

/>   “I didn’t talk much to Tom. A Detective Shepherd asked most of the questions.”

  “Did they say what happened?”

  Kate drew a shaky hand across her forehead. “Trudy wasn’t very coherent, but from what they can piece together, Joe came stumbling into the house, wounded, and Trudy rushed him to the hospital.” Her breath hitched. “He died before they got there.”

  “They don’t know where it happened?”

  “No, he was somewhere on the farm.”

  “And he didn’t say anything to Trudy about who’d hurt him?”

  “If he did, Detective Shepherd didn’t share it with me.”

  “Kate, I’m so sorry. What an awful thing,” Rose exclaimed.

  “I should go out to the farm and check on Trudy. Joe would want that,” Kate said, staring out the window.

  “Don’t think about Trudy now. Right now you’re worn out. You can visit her tomorrow,” Rose replied in a tone that brooked no opposition. “And she’s not alone. Agnes Forsyth is staying with her.”

  Kate faced Rose. “What do I do now?” she asked, her voice despondent.

  “I don’t have an answer for you,” Rose replied, her brow crinkling. “It’s never easy losing a loved one, but to lose Joe like this . . .” Her voice trailed away and she shook her head. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”

  Kate traced a line on her jeans. “That’s just it—I don’t feel anything right now. I’m numb. I suppose I’ll need to think about the funeral.”

  “Not today, you don’t,” Rose said sternly. “Today you rest. You can start making arrangements once we know when the body will be released.”

  He’d gone from being Joe to being “the body.” Gut-wrenching sorrow pushed the numbness aside, and Kate’s eyes welled with tears. How did she have enough moisture still left in her body to cry?

  Rose lightly touched her leg. “Life hasn’t been very kind to you since you came to Braxton County, has it?”

  She dashed away the tears. “I feel like I’m at the bottom of a big black hole and it keeps getting deeper,” she said in a dismal voice. “Who hated Joe enough to kill him?”

  Rose let out a long breath. “That’s for the sheriff to find out.” Her mouth twisted in a frown. “But it’s a question a lot of people are asking. The snoops came out in droves this morning. I got so many calls this morning that I finally shut my phone off.”

  “I’m sorry, Rose.”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” she huffed. “They ought to know enough to mind their own business at a time like this.”

  “But—” Her cell phone rang, cutting her off. She answered without glancing at the screen. “Hello.”

  “Didn’t I tell you that no good would come of this?” her grandmother’s voice sounded in Kate’s ear. “Now your husband’s been murdered. Murdered,” she exclaimed, continuing her tirade. “We’ve never had anything like this happen in our family. It’s all over the news. Why, I can hardly step outside my own door without someone asking me about it, and what do I tell them? You never even thought to call me.”

  Cold replaced the sorrow in Kate’s heart. Such cold, she began to shiver.

  “As soon as this is all over,” she huffed, “you’re moving home. You can live with me.”

  Kate thought of her sessions with Dr. Mike and the shivering suddenly stopped. She took a deep breath.

  “Thanks for asking about me, Gran,” she said, her voice hard, “your concern is positively underwhelming.”

  “There’s no need to get spiteful with me, young lady. I—”

  Kate broke in. “Believe it or not, this is one time it isn’t about you, and if you can’t see that, I don’t want to continue this conversation.” She went to push End, but her grandmother’s voice stopped her.

  “Wait. I’m sorry.” Her tone had changed from forceful to whimpering in a flash. “It’s such a shock, and for a person my age . . . of course I was going to ask about you. I’ve been so worried.”

  Yeah right, Kate thought, but kept silent

  “You poor thing,” her grandmother continued. “You need your grandmother.”

  “No—w-wait,” Kate stammered.

  “I’ve already made the arrangements. You’ll need to reimburse her for the gas, but Mrs. Cutter is driving me out there tomorrow.”

  “You can’t,” Kate cried into the phone, but her grandmother had ended the call.

  Chapter 27

  Fall 2012, the Clement family farm

  The next morning, Kate braced her hands against the bathroom counter and stared at her reflection. Her eyes were swollen and her hair hung in clumps. She should take a shower, but she didn’t have the energy. She had to see Trudy today and also steel her nerves in preparation for her grandmother’s visit. Hanging her head, she took a deep breath. The idea of the two of them in the same room boggled her mind.

  An hour later she was dressed and, with Rose along, pulling into the driveway at the farm. Agnes Forsyth greeted them at the door with a sour expression.

  “How’s Trudy?” Kate asked as Agnes stood aside and let them enter.

  “Not well,” she replied with a haughty look toward Rose. “I wanted to take her in to see Doc Adams, but she refused.”

  “Is she awake?”

  “Yes, can’t you hear the TV in her room?” Agnes answered with a sniff as she turned and led them back to the kitchen. “I don’t know what you’re going to do. She can’t be left alone and I need to get home. Albert missed his supper last night because I wasn’t there.”

  Kate heard Rose mutter something from behind her that sounded like, “Maybe Albert should learn how to use a stove.” She shot Rose a look over her shoulder and shook her head.

  Once in the kitchen, Rose smiled sweetly at Agnes. “I’ll stay here and help Agnes.”

  Rolling her eyes, Kate went out the back door and found Trudy sitting in an old rocking chair. She was dressed much the same way she’d been the first day Kate had met her—in an old housedress and stockings rolled to her knees—but her skin looked blanched and her hair straggled around her face. Slowly, she turned her head; eyes that were once sharp and assessing were now dull and empty.

  “Trudy?” Kate said as she knelt in front of her.

  “My son’s dead,” she said in a flat voice.

  “I know.”

  “Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children,” she continued, her gaze traveling over Kate’s head and toward the apple orchard. “The farm was the only thing that mattered until he met you.” Her attention returned to Kate and anger flashed in her eyes. “It’s your fault. You brought the curse down on us.”

  “Trudy, you’re not well. I think we should let Doc Adams take a look at you.”

  Her lips twisted in a bitter line. “No. You want to get rid of me.” She wagged a bony finger in Kate’s face. “You were going to make Joe send me away.”

  “Trudy—”

  “Only Joe was the one who went away,” she cried and clutched at the front of her dress. “I’ve lost my son and now I’m going to lose my home.”

  Kate sighed and bowed her head. She’d never seen a person so distraught. Raising her head, she looked at Trudy, and the woman seemed to shrink before her eyes.

  “I’m tired now. I want to go lie down,” she said, hoisting her body out of the rocking chair. “Will you take me back to my room?”

  Kate gently took Trudy’s arm and began to guide her across the porch. Trudy abruptly slid to a stop.

  “They’re all gone now,” she whispered, “all of Joseph’s sons. But the land’s still here and so is she. Be careful, girl, that you’re not the next.”

  She tugged away and shuffled into the house, leaving Kate bewildered. By the time Kate followed, Trudy had disappeared into her bedroom.

  Rose handed her a cup of coffee. “How did it go?”

  “Badly,” Kate answered with a shake of her head. “She’s really confused. I wonder if she hasn’t had a minor stroke.” Kate looked over at
Agnes. “What do you think? How did she act last night?”

  “She spent most of the evening in her bedroom while I was on the phone with Albert.”

  “Why? Was Albert having problems finding the bathroom?” Rose asked in a snarky voice.

  “Rose—please,” Kate said. “I’m going to call Doc.”

  A few minutes later, Kate returned. “Doc wants us to take her in to the emergency room. He said someone should have called him last night.”

  Rose looked pointedly at Agnes, who in return glared at Rose.

  Agnes then switched her attention to Kate. “I’ll have you know I barely slept last night,” she said with a lift of her chin. “In case you’ve forgotten, there’s been a murder here. How did I know they wouldn’t come back and kill us in our beds?”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten,” Kate replied coldly, “but I hardly think you were in any danger.”

  “You don’t know. There could be a crazed homeless person out there right now, waiting to strike again,” she said, waving an arm toward the window.

  Rose rolled her eyes. “I haven’t seen a homeless person in Dutton since Vivian Patton threw Wally out after one too many trips to the Silver Goose. They found him sleeping it off on the park bench.”

  Agnes ignored Rose. “What about drug dealers? We don’t know. Maybe Joe wound up mixed up with them. Everyone knows he had money—”

  “Agnes Forsyth,” Rose said, cutting her off, “I always knew you were an idiot, but—”

  Agnes shoved her hands on her hips. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone saw it as an easy way out of their problems.”

  “Of all the callous things to say,” Rose exclaimed. “Kate—”

  Kate held up a hand, stopping her. “I’ll take it from here,” she said, turning on Agnes. “You’re supposed to be Trudy’s friend and you’re trashing her son’s memory by spreading rumors about him?”

  “I’m not spreading rumors. They’re going around like wildfire,” Agnes huffed.

  Kate gave her a steely glare. “And instead of putting the fire out, I bet you’re fanning the flames.” Kate walked over and picked up a purse and a bag sitting by the back door. She held them out to Agnes. “You know, I’ll take over from here. Thanks for your help.”