A small car filled most of the space in the tight garage, piles of paper towels and toilet paper squished against the far wall, so close to the driver’s door she wondered how he’d gotten out of the car.
Another hoarder.
Charlotte took a deep breath.
I was afraid of that.
With Jamie possibly on the loose, she remained the most likely suspect for any murder, but Charlotte wrestled with the fact the day’s deaths had looked like accidents. Jamie liked to make sure everyone knew when she killed someone. To disguise her kills as accidents wasn’t her M.O. That meant one of two things: Either she had changed her style to remain hidden during her time on the lam, or, it wasn’t her at all.
The idea of another killer proved both frightening and comforting. No one wanted more murderers roaming around Charity, but Charlotte didn’t want confirmation Jamie had escaped, either.
A third troubling thought had been germinating in Charlotte’s brain. The golf course couple stockpiled water. She’d been hoping Ted wasn’t a hoarder, too, but the mountain of paper goods in his garage dashed those dreams.
Her conversation with Darla confirmed Gloria’s devious little mind had locked on hoarders.
Has Gloria graduated from pranks to murder?
Charlotte spent a few more minutes poking around and finding nothing suspicious, returned to her golf cart. She sat inside, running through her phone to see if there had been any other reports of accidental deaths.
Something thudded the back of her cart, shaking it, the knock so loud it made her jump. She twisted around to find Jack Canton staring at her, looking angry.
“You scared me,” she said, her tone not without accusation.
“Are you going to sit parked in front of my house all day?”
Charlotte frowned.
Boy, you are an unpleasant person.
“I was just leaving,” she said turning the key, but even though Jack headed back towards his house, she found she couldn’t leave it there. “This is a public street,” she added.
Jack turned and pointed to Ted’s house. “Whatever happened to him is a police matter. Get going before I call them and tell them you’re playing detective.”
Charlotte felt her face tingle with embarrassment. Had Jack been home, after all? Had he seen her break into Ted’s house?
“I am a detective,” she said, caught off guard. Even she didn’t totally believe it.
“Sure you are, girly.” He snorted a laugh and continued toward his house, but not before he pointed down the road, insinuating that’s where he’d like to see her go.
Charlotte grimaced and pressed the pedal.
What a jerk.
Chapter Eighteen
Charlotte stood at her bedside packing a suitcase for her hurricane retreat with Declan when she heard the sound of a car outside her house. She moved to the window to find Declan’s Jeep at the curb and heard a knock on the door.
“Come on in.” She heard Abby greeting someone, her toenails tapping a happy dance around the visitor.
She strode out to the living room. “I was just putting together some clothes— Why are you wet?”
Declan stood before her, soaked, his dark hair slicked back against his skull, his clothes spotted with what looked like mud.
“She’s here,” he said.
“Do you want a towel?” She bobbed into the bathroom to grab one. “Who’s here?”
“Jamie. I just chased her into a lake.”
She handed him the towel, laughing. “You’re kidding.”
“No. I literally chased her into a lake. Car and all.”
“Your car is outside.”
“Her car went in the lake.”
Charlotte gaped. “You’re going to have to start at the beginning.”
Declan rubbed the towel over his head and took off his shirt. She loved it when he did that. She never tired of ogling his swimmer’s body. But something wasn’t right...
“There’s a reed sticking out of your armpit,” she said, motioning.
He plucked the grass from his body. Fishing in his pockets, he pulled out his phone, checked to see if it still worked, and then set it on the counter. “Can I take a quick shower?”
Charlotte scowled. “You can’t leave me hanging. What happened? Why didn’t you stop home?” She realized how her question sounded and waved her hands as if trying to wipe away the thought. “I mean, of course you can take a shower, but it’s weird you didn’t stop home.”
His eyebrows bobbed skyward. “Did you not hear the part where I told you Jamie was in town?”
“Yes. But we’ve known that since this morning.”
“No. We heard it might be true this morning. Now I’m sure. I’m officially your shadow.”
She sighed and held out a hand. “Give me your shirt. I’ll throw it in the dryer.”
He turned over the shirt and slipped past her into the hall and to the guest bathroom.
“You’re really going to make me wait until you’re out of the shower to tell me how you ended up in the lake?”
The sound of the water turning on served as his only response.
She shook her head and looked at the dog. “How can he do this to us?”
Abby ignored her and headed down the hall.
Charlotte tossed the wet shirt into her dryer. Abby sat herself outside the bathroom door like a sentry, until Declan reappeared five minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist and his shorts in his hand. Charlotte heard him toss his shorts and, presumably, underwear into the dryer with his shirt before he joined her in the kitchen.
“You’re killing me,” she said.
He kissed her. “Thank you
