75

Traffic was light and Alexa saw no evidence of a door-to-door forced evacuation as she drove into Casey’s neighborhood. No cops stopped Alexa’s car to demand to know why she hadn’t yet fled the endangered city. The guard Decell had stationed there was ignoring the reporters clustered outside Casey’s gate. Several yelled at Alexa as she walked past them.

“Mrs. West is expecting me,” she told the guard, who looked like a Midwestern college quarterback with perfect teeth.

“She’s inside,” the guard said.

The front door was opened by another guard, who accompanied Alexa back to the kitchen, where a woman in a white uniform was cooking lunch. Casey sat at the table holding her daughter in her lap.

“How’s Gary?” Alexa asked as she placed her purse in one chair and sat down in the one beside it.

“He’s going to pull through,” Casey replied. “They won’t know how much brain damage he has until he regains consciousness. Bad concussion, but thankfully not bad enough to be fatal. He was horribly dehydrated. They’re very hopeful, though. He’s being moved this afternoon by air ambulance to the Mayo Clinic because of the hurricane. They think he’ll be stable enough in a few hours. We can’t risk him being in a hospital here without power or water, and the best doctors are there.”

“Casey, I need to tell you some things about all of this before you get blindsided. I’m not sure it’s my place, but I thought it might be better coming from me than—”

“The reporters,” Casey interrupted. “I’ve been getting calls, but I’m not taking any from numbers I don’t recognize.”

“Good idea.”

“I can’t get Grace on the phone to tell her we have Gary back. Have you spoken with her? Maybe she left with her parents, but she should have called.”

Alexa looked at the cook, then back at Casey. “This is something I think you alone should hear.”

Casey scooted back her chair. “Mary, could you finish feeding Deana? Coffee, Alexa?”

“No. Thank you.”

Casey led Alexa to the den.

“Grace is dead,” Alexa said bluntly.

“Oh, no! It can’t be true! How? When?”

“Yesterday afternoon. She was in her bathtub.”

“She fell?”

“No, she didn’t fall. Coroner says suicide. There were no signs of foul play. She had bathwater in her lungs.”

Casey stared at Alexa. “Not an accident?” she said in disbelief.

Alexa shook her head. “It looks like suicide.”

“So, she was involved in Gary’s kidnapping?”

“Yes, it appears she was.”

“Was there a suicide note?”

“We didn’t find one.”

“Poor, poor Gracie!”

“Maybe she did it because, even though they might have gotten away with the ransom, she must have been sure we’d figure out her part in it. Or maybe she regretted her involvement. Couldn’t live with the betrayal,” Alexa said. “I believe her accomplice, the man you wounded, was connected to Dorothy Fugate, maybe even related to her. He killed Dorothy and then stole her diary to blackmail your uncle. It appears he and Grace took Sibby to a motel and tied her up. I have positive IDs on Grace and her accomplice.”

“Why?”

“The diary Fugate kept might hold some answers. I don’t know yet.”

“So she kept a diary? Who gives a damn if Unko sleeps with a nurse? Was it because of Sibby and the hospital?”

“Yes, that was detailed in the diary pages. But I’m afraid there’s more that is far worse than that. Casey, your uncle treated a young psychiatric patient. He got her pregnant.”

Casey gnawed her lip, then shook her head. “He had an affair with a patient? And Fugate knew it?”

“She did. The baby was born in Fugate’s house, and taken away from the girl. It was adopted. Your uncle had a judge friend handle the placement. Nobody knew the patient was pregnant. She had gone missing and her family was sure she was wandering the city, which she’d done before.”

Casey shook her head dazedly. “Unko has an illegitimate child somewhere? He’d be a blood heir. That would explain why Unko wanted the diary so badly. The money is far more important to him than Gary ever was.”

“Sibhon Danielson was the patient.”

Casey’s eyes were blank with disbelief. “I have an illegitimate cousin whose mother is an insane murderer? The woman who murdered my parents has a child who’s related to me?” Her frown grew deeper. “You can’t mean little Bill. He died. He wasn’t Sarah’s son?”

“It wasn’t a boy. Your uncle gave her to a couple who desperately wanted a child but couldn’t have one of their own. Someone in the family.”

“In our family? Like a distant cousin? Who?”

“Your parents.”

“But I’m the only daughter my parents…” Casey faltered, and the color drained from her face.

Alexa nodded.

Casey stood, stumbled, and collapsed.