Three Weddings and a Murder Read online

  “Don’t go, Anna,” he nearly growled.

  “I’ll see you around, Charlie. Welcome home.”

  He blinked rapidly and dragged a hand through his tousled hair. “How can you leave like this—after what just happened between us?”

  Reaching for her purse she said, “I’m sorry. I’ll admit I got caught up in the moment, but nothing happened between us except a kiss.”

  On top of her words, her phone rang, aiding her, jarring her back to planet earth. Charlie watched her with a we’re-not-done-here look on his face while she dug her phone out and put it to her ear.

  “Are you with Drex?” She heard Nate’s voice on the other end of the phone.

  “Yes, but—”

  “He left his phone over here.”

  Concentrating on Nate’s words, she cleared her throat and tried to sound composed. “I’ll tell him.”

  “Put Drex on.” Nate’s voice didn’t sound composed at all. “There’s something wrong with the baby.”

  Monday Morning

  “WHAT ABOUT THESE BRUISES here on his bottom, when did you first notice them?” Charlie swept his hand above Bobby’s buttocks indicating several yellow-green marks, and a tense silence stretched the air taut, making the small exam room seem even more confining.

  Simone shifted her weight from one foot to the other, flicked her gaze along the row of friendly dinosaurs bordering the ceiling, brushed a hank of red hair off her forehead, and then looked back at the dinosaurs. “Just now, when you pointed them out.”

  Her answer surprised him…and the bruises concerned him. When Nate had telephoned Saturday night, Charlie had reassured him that the bruises he described—small ones on Bobby’s shins—sounded normal. He’d explained that it’s common for children, especially ones who crawl and toddle, to develop contusions over bony prominences.

  The bruises he was looking at now, however, weren’t so normal. Unlike the knees and shins, a baby’s buttocks have plenty of padding, so bruising there raised a red flag. “What about you, Nate?” he asked.

  His lifelong friend cupped his hand in his chin, and his brow drew down. “I haven’t seen them before now either. I don’t do much diaper changing.” Nate turned to Simone and opened his hands wide. “That’s an area where I need to help you out more, but I promise to do better in the future.”

  Charlie frowned at Simone. “You’re at home with Bobby, right? No one else takes care of him. You don’t have a nanny? He doesn’t go to daycare?”

  “I wouldn’t trust a nanny.” Her voice faltered, and her eyes misted up. Moving Charlie out of her way with a gentle shove, she set about fastening Bobby’s diaper.

  Simone Carlisle was the last person Charlie would ever suspect of intentionally hurting her baby, and there were plenty of other etiologies on his differential. He hated the idea of even entertaining the idea of abuse. Still, as a pediatrician, he’d seen too many things he hadn’t wished to believe possible. So right now, he really needed a straight answer from Simone. “And yet you never noticed these bruises when you were changing Bobby’s diaper?”

  “If they’d been there, of course I would have noticed them. But you’re not listening, Drex. They’re new. I’m the only one changing the diapers, and if those spots were there, I would have seen them. That’s not why we’re here. We brought Bobby in today because Nate noticed these black spots on Bobby’s little legs Saturday night, and we got scared.”

  “But you made this appointment on Friday. If there were no bruises until Saturday, why did you call Friday to set up today’s appointment?”

  Simone finished snapping Bobby’s onesie and lifted him into her arms. Drawing him close to her chest, she dropped her gaze and kept silent.

  Nate crossed to his wife and child. “Babe, why didn’t you tell me that you already had an appointment set up for this morning? I wouldn’t have called Drex at home late like that.”

  “I—I don’t know. I thought you wanted to tell Drex about leaving his phone at the house anyway, so I didn’t think to mention it.”

  Charlie put his hand on Simone’s shoulder. A tremor ran through her. Keeping his voice steady, he said, “Here’s the problem I’m having right now. The bruises on Bobby’s bottom are yellow and that means they’re several days old. The bruises on his shins are newer—I know because they’re still dark brown and black.”

  Simone jerked away from Charlie’s touch. “You think I hurt my baby? Is that what this interrogation is about?”

  “Take it easy.” Nate put a protective arm around his wife’s waist. “Drex is our friend. He’s not accusing us of anything. He’s trying to help Bobby.” Nate’s Adam’s apple bobbed visibly. “But…are you sure those bruises started this morning, babe?”

  Simone started to shake outright, and Nate tightened his arm around her, and then turned back to Charlie. “Does it really matter when Simone made the appointment or when the bruises on his bottom happened? I just want to make sure our baby is okay. I mean, I Googled bruising while Simone was dressing Bobby, and I found an article that said that could be a sign of leukemia.” Nate’s voice dropped an octave. “This is my kid, Drex. So, I just need to know what the hell is going on.”

  “I’d like to put Bobby in the hospital overnight to run some tests and—”

  Simone tightened her hold on Bobby. “You can’t put my baby in the hospital unless I say you can.”

  “I certainly don’t want to put him the hospital without your consent, but the truth is I can get child protective services involved if I have to.”

  Nate’s face reddened, and his voice rose in alarm. “For Chrissake, are you both crazy? Butting heads isn’t going to help anything.” He pried his son loose from Simone’s arms and gently cradled him in his own. “Bobby comes first. Period. So if Drex says Bobby needs to go in the hospital for tests, that’s where he’s going.”

  Tuesday Evening

  CHARLIE OPENED THE Carlisle front door, registered the scene in front of him, and then, with a burst of adrenaline churning blood through his veins and turbocharging his muscles, he bounded across the room. This was no fight or flight response—this was a 100 percent, grade-A, punch-your-goddamn-lights-out response.

  Nathan Henry Carlisle Senior, also known to his family as Sir, had Anna’s wrists manacled in his grip. “All you gotta do is tell me where they are, sweetheart, and I’ll let you go.” His voice was urgent, yet low and cajoling—like he was coaxing a gun from the hands of a toddler.

  Anna stood her ground, not flinching or acknowledging the implied threat as to what might happen if she didn’t tell him where Simone and Bobby were hiding.

  Charlie hit his mark. Towering above Mr. Carlisle, he said, “Get your fucking hands off her now.” He could feel his voice vibrating through his clamped teeth.

  In a flash, Carlisle released Anna’s wrists and put his hands up in a take-it-easy gesture.

  Considering the fact that Charlie had a good three inches and at least forty pounds on the guy, it was smart of him not to argue the point. Unlike Charlie’s father, Nate’s dad wasn’t the type to resort to violence. He was, however, the type to try to make you believe that he might.

  Nathan Henry Carlisle Senior was all about intimidation.

  He ruled his family not with an iron fist, but with an iron heart.

  Before Nate’s glory days in football, his dad had referred to him as a super-sized momma’s boy. It was only after Nate made a name for himself that his father labeled him a chip off the old block.

  The cool thing about Nate, though, was that no matter how hard he tried to be one, he really wasn’t a chip off the old block at all. Nate cared far less about appearances than was befitting a Carlisle, and that had rubbed a sore spot in his relationship with his father.

  Charlie glanced around his old friend’s living room, where family photographs, rather than football trophies, set the tone—despite the fact that Nate had plenty of those trophies languishing in his closet. His gaze landed on Nate, who slumped o
n the couch, his chin boring a hole in his chest, his lips thinned into a worried line, his eyes downcast but red and puffy enough for Charlie to see from clear across the room that he’d been crying.

  His throat tightened, and his attention swung back to Anna, who was still waging a standoff with Nate’s father. Carlisle’s body canted toward her. Hands fisted at her sides, her body retaliated, canting toward Carlisle.

  The meek girl he knew in high school would’ve avoided confrontation and stepped back. This side of Anna was new to Charlie, and he wondered what else had changed about her in the past decade. Frowning, he smoothed a hand across his hair. It simply wasn’t possible she could be covering up for Simone.

  “Where are they, Anna?” he asked, with that same angry vibration in his voice. Deliberately, he relaxed his jaw, which was beginning to ache.

  Anna pulled her shoulders high, turned her back on Carlisle and looked straight past Charlie. Addressing Nate she said, “If I knew where Simone and Bobby were, I’d tell you. But I didn’t even know they’d gone missing from the hospital until you called me. I came here to help.”

  Turning back to Charlie, she met his eyes and then Carlisle’s. “If we can move past this ridiculous accusation that Simone told me where she was taking Bobby, maybe we can get this show on the road and figure out how to get them back home where they belong.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Carlisle grunted. “Simone tells you everything.”

  “In this case she didn’t.” Anna crossed to the couch and folded down beside Nate, rested a hand on his shoulder. “So can someone please fill me in?”

  “This afternoon, Simone took Bobby out of the hospital AMA—against medical advice.” Charlie sat down on the other side of Nate. “She apparently came home, packed some of Bobby’s things, and—”

  “And ran off with my grandson. So if you know where she is you need to come clean now.” Carlisle prowled the room as he spoke.

  Anna replied coolly, “What I meant was could someone please explain why Bobby was in the hospital in the first place?”

  “Simone abused him.” Carlisle’s voice held no empathy for his daughter-in-law.

  Nate’s head shot up. “That’s enough, Sir.”

  “Maybe you should try listening, Mr. Carlisle, because I have something to tell you.” Charlie motioned toward an armchair, and thankfully, Carlisle took the hint and sat down. “I did a full SNAT work up.”

  “What’s that?” three voices asked in unison.

  “Suspected nonaccidental trauma—child abuse. The results that had already come back were negative, and Simone knew that. The irony is, if she had only waited a few more hours, she would have also known that social services signed off on the case. When the last of the blood work came back…as I explained to your son on the phone, Sir…” He threw in that Sir to appease Mr. Carlisle for the sake of all concerned, but the word left a saccharine taste on his tongue. “When the blood work came back, it showed that Bobby has a minor bleeding disorder called Von Willebrand disease.”

  Carlisle didn’t react.

  Anna’s hand went to her throat. “Is that serious?”

  “Some types are worse than others, and we need to run more tests to know which type Bobby has.” He paused to let everyone in the room digest the information. “But usually, Von Willebrand can be safely managed, and in more good news, it probably explains the bruises.”

  “What do you mean probably explains the bruises?” Anna asked.

  Carlisle jumped to his feet. “He means an innocent person doesn’t yank her child out of the hospital and go on the lam. He means even kids with weird diseases can be abused. An innocent person doesn’t run.”

  “Simone was afraid social services would take Bobby away from her,” Anna fired back.

  Carlisle slammed a fist into his palm, and a loud smack added a soundtrack to the tension in the room. “So she did talk to you.”

  “No, she didn’t. I haven’t spoken to her since Sunday afternoon when she stopped by the library. I’m just speculating that she must’ve been frightened, and that’s why she ran. Simone would never hurt Bobby.”

  “Innocent people don’t run.” Carlisle repeated.

  Charlie chose to let this last statement dissipate into the air, rather than feeding Carlisle’s fears by continuing to talk about them. In fact, he wished he could ignore Nate’s father altogether. He didn’t have time to waste trying to mollify the arrogant bastard.

  Charlie felt responsible, at least in part, for Simone and Bobby’s disappearance, and he had every intention of seeing them home safe. Until then, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He made a point of directing his next question to Nate. “Have you considered calling the police?”

  Nate nodded. “Dad suggested we get the police to put out an Amber alert. I asked, but they refused. Said it wasn’t appropriate in this situation.”

  “Then what did they advise?”

  “They said Simone had every legal right to take Bobby out of the hospital, and that I should stay here and wait for her to come home—that I should be here when she did come home to calm her down and make her feel safe. They said they wanted to employ a watch-and-wait approach for now.”

  Charlie steepled his fingers. “I can see their point about the Amber alert, but still, with a mother and child missing, you’d think they’d want to help.”

  “They said this kind of thing, a mother taking off on her own for a few hours, happens all the time. I called her sister and her mom, but they say they haven’t talked to Simone in days.”

  “Not to state the obvious, but have you tried calling Simone? Even if she doesn’t answer, you can at least leave a voice mail to let her know what’s going on. I have to believe she’d come home right away if she knew about the Von Willebrand disease,” Charlie said.

  “I wish I could call her, but I found her phone sitting on the kitchen counter by the sink. I don’t know if she forgot it, or if she left it on purpose.”

  Anna closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples with her index fingers. “Why would she leave her phone behind on purpose?”

  Carlisle took back the conversational reins. “Because, sweetheart, she knows we can track her using the GPS on her phone—that’s why the bitch left it behind.”

  Tuesday Night

  ABANDONING HER KEYS in the front door of the library, Anna flipped on the lights and then sprinted for the security panel on the far wall. Her index finger connected with its target with an entire split-second to spare. Triumphantly, she planted her arms akimbo and turned to Charlie.

  His response: the high arch of one disdainful eyebrow. “Your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to sneak into the library where you are, in fact, authorized to be at any time, and stealthily disable the security system, which you, in fact, programmed yourself.” He gave her an exaggerated slow clap. “Dangerous business breaking into the Tangleheart library after hours.”

  Putting too much spin on her wrist, she waved a dismissive hand and banged it on the wall in the process. It stung a little—so did Charlie’s sarcasm. “Do you want to know what Simone was doing in the vertical file or don’t you? Go ahead and make fun, but I could lose my job over this.”

  “Mrs. Marlowe must’ve changed. Last I knew, she was as addicted to the pleasure of your company as to that nip of brandy she thinks no one knows about. Does she still bring you brownies on Saturdays and call you dear heart?”

  Nursing her wrist, she said. “I suppose you think protecting the privacy of a library patron is less important than doctor-patient privilege.”

  He shrugged. “You say so.”

  “This is serious stuff. Maybe Mrs. Marlowe wouldn’t fire me if she found out, but I’m violating a professional code of ethics. If I didn’t think Bobby and Simone might be”—her tight throat changed her voice into a thread—“in real trouble, I’d never allow you in here. I’d never misuse my position as librarian to snoop into Simone’s business or any other patron’s.”

  �
�I’m sorry.”

  He sounded sincere, but after that slow clap…

  “No. Really. I know how hard this must be for you.” He tapped his finger to his nose. “Hey, remember the time we went to see The Sixth Sense, and there was no one manning the ticket booth?”

  Surely he wasn’t still holding a grudge over ten dollars. She blew out an exasperated breath. “My stars. Do you have some sort of point?”

  “I wanted to just go inside and watch the movie, but oh no, you insisted on chasing down the manager and paying. You always did have an overdeveloped conscience. I never thought I would say this, but I miss that about you.”

  “You were mad at the time.”

  “Well, yeah. It cost me ten bucks, but when you don’t see someone for a long time, it’s the little things that sneak up on you and make you realize…” He looked over her shoulder. “I’m rambling, and we really should get on with it. I honestly don’t want to cause any trouble for you with Mrs. Marlowe, and the sooner we find Simone and Bobby, the sooner we can get this mess cleared up.”

  This mess was largely, if not entirely, due to Charlie involving child protective services as part of the hospital evaluation. Of course the fact that he had been looking out for Bobby mitigated Anna’s disapproval. That and the worry that Bobby might need a doctor once they found him were the only reasons she was willing to let Charlie in on whatever information she found in the files.

  She twisted a strand of her hair around her finger and sighed. This undercover operation at the library was most likely a wild goose chase. There was probably no connection whatsoever between Simone’s trip to the library on Sunday and her disappearance from the hospital on Tuesday.

  Only Anna couldn’t forget how agitated Simone had seemed after looking through the file, or the way she’d rushed out of the library without so much as a wave good-bye. Top that off with the fact that she desperately wanted to find Simone and Bobby, but was at a loss as to how to proceed, and there you had it—sneaking into the library and snooping through the files suddenly seemed like a completely reasonable course of action. She had to start somewhere, didn’t she? “Grab my keys and close the door, then. The vertical file is back here.”