Dying to Tell

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Book: Read Dying to Tell for Free Online
Authors: Rita Herron
sister, or to the person who’d called her from her grandfather’s house to warn her that Amelia was about to kill her grandfather. It was a little girl’s voice. A child about three. Sadie had met her before.
    “Bessie,” she said, “is that you?”
    Amelia’s head bobbed up and down, then she glanced around the dingy jail cell. “I wanna go home. I don’t like it here.” A lone tear rolled down her cheek, and she rubbed her nose with the back of a grimy hand. “I heard the chimes. One, two, three...they’re singing.”
    The chimes—the wind chimes or the chimes of the clock? Sadie never was quite sure what her sister was talking about. She had an odd obsession with both, as if they were somehow connected.
    “I’m trying to hear them, Bessie,” Sadie said softly. “Tell me where they are.”
    But Bessie began to wail. “He took us in the dark. I don’t like it, I hate the dark.”
    Sadie sighed. Dr. Tynsdale claimed Bessie was the innocent little child her sister had once been before her mind was fractured. Amelia resorted to Bessie when life became too traumaticfor her to deal with the ugly reality. When bad things—violence—happened.
    And her grandfather’s murder was as bad as it could get.

    Jake watched the scene between Sadie and her sister with a mixture of pity and frustration. If Amelia were any other criminal, he could throw the book at her and not lose a wink of sleep. And if she would snap out of it, confess, and explain why she’d killed her grandfather, it would make his job a helluva lot easier. Then everyone could understand and move on.
    But she was a mentally ill woman, one who saw the world through a distorted lens. No telling what thoughts had been in her head when she’d pulled that trigger.
    He’d hoped seeing Sadie might shake Amelia back to reality, but judging from the disturbing sound of the little girl’s voice, this was one of the “others” Sadie had talked about years ago. He’d never met any of them, but Sadie had assured him they were real.
    As real as an insane person could make them.
    Sadie’s face twisted with anguish for a brief moment. Then, with an effort, she set her face, her expression unreadable.
    But when she spoke, her voice was soft and soothing, as if she were speaking to a child.
    “Bessie,” Sadie said, “do you know what happened with Amelia?”
    Bessie frowned, the innocence of a child who was lost behind those steel bars. “She’s sad.”
    “Yes,” Sadie said matter-of-factly. “Because of Papaw.”
    Bessie wrinkled her nose. “This place smells. I want to go home.”
    Jake jammed his hands in his pockets, looking for signs that Amelia was faking the child persona, but if she was, she was a damn good actress.
    “Do you know what happened to Papaw?” Sadie asked.
    Bessie swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks with the back of one hand. “No...Amelia said he’s gone.”
    “Do you remember me?” Sadie asked. “We used to play together when I was a little girl.”
    Bessie’s face brightened. “We had coloring parties.”
    “That’s right.” Sadie laid a hand on her sister’s arm. She was trying to be patient, act unaffected, but the slight tremble of her fingers as she stroked Bessie’s hand betrayed her suffering.
    Jake retrieved his cell phone from the clip on his belt and stepped aside to phone the doctor. If Bessie was talking, maybe Tynsdale knew how to reach the alters.
    He’d also heard Sadie was some kind of therapist. Maybe she could get Bessie to open up.
    Still, he didn’t stray so far that he couldn’t watch his prisoner. Amelia had shot her grandfather. Who knew what she might do next?
    She might attack Sadie. Or she might confess the crime and her reason for resorting to murder.

    Sadie wished like hell that Jake wasn’t watching. But he was the sheriff, and he’d be peering over her shoulder at every turn. Demanding to talk to her sister. Grilling her to confide whatever Amelia or the alters

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