Devious - Lisa Jackson [98]
Val wondered what had happened to Slade. It had been over an hour since he’d taken the call that had propelled him from the office.
“What’s odd?” Val asked. Everything was odd to Valerie; there wasn’t any one thing she could put her finger on.
“I’d just called St. Marguerite’s and spoke with Sister Charity today about Sister Camille’s things, and now they’re gone.”
“When did you make the call?”
“Just a few hours ago.” Simone’s perfect brow knitted. “She said she’d send someone for them, but no one spoke to me.”
“Maybe we could look on the computer and see what she found.”
“I don’t know.”
“They were my parents, too,” Val pushed.
“The parish computers are private, for parish use only, but . . . I’ll have to check with Sister Georgia.”
At that moment, Val finally spied Slade, walking swiftly along the hallway as he tucked his cell phone into the pocket of his shirt.
“Ready to go?” he asked Val, then extended his big hand to Sister Simone. “Slade Houston, Val’s husband.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said as Val introduced her.
“Sister Simone was a friend of Camille’s and showed me around.”
“Sorry I missed it,” he said with that crooked smile that she found so irritatingly endearing. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we really have to go.”
She caught his look and didn’t argue, even though she didn’t think she was finished here—she was certain that somewhere in these dark hallways was the answer to her sister’s death. “Would you please let me know if you find out what happened to Camille’s things?”
“I’m sure the reverend mother will,” Sister Simone said as Slade walked swiftly to the front doors, Valerie at his side.
“What’s wrong with you?” Val demanded once they were outside. With storm clouds brewing, dusk was soon settling over the land. “Is there something wrong at the ranch?”
His lips twisted as they reached the truck. “Everything’s fine.”
“But I thought you got a call. . . .”
“Yeah, well, that was an excuse. I called myself.” He climbed in behind the wheel as she slid into the passenger seat.
“You what?”
“You were getting nowhere with the reverend mother. The same old runaround, and I decided I needed an excuse to leave and snoop around again. So I faked the call.”
“You’re downright devious,” she said as raindrops fell, pinging against the roof of the old Ford.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Do.” She was surprised at his deception. “So did you find anything?”
He flicked the ignition, and the truck’s engine rumbled to life. “Yep.” Checking his mirror, he pulled into the street.
Her heart raced just a bit. “Okay, what?”
He slid her a glance. “Look in my jacket pocket,” he said, turning off the side street and into heavier traffic heading south.
She was already reaching into the space behind the seats where he’d tossed his jacket. Digging into the pocket, her fingers brushed against a plastic bag, and inside, the spine of a book. In her mind’s eye, she saw Camille’s empty cupboard. She felt a second of regret as she pulled out the slim bound pages, the cover as plain and black as a prayer book. “Camille’s diary?”
“Looks like.”
“You stole it?” she said, disbelieving. She’d been certain the killer had taken the diary to hide his identity.
“Borrowed. We’ll have to give it up to the police once we’re done with it.”
“Have you read it?”
“Only enough to confirm it was Cammie’s.”
“And you had an evidence bag with you?”
“I found some ziplocks in a drawer. Figured we didn’t want to destroy any evidence.”
Valerie swallowed hard. Through the plastic, her fingers caressed the soft leather binding, and she had the distinct feeling that when she opened the first page, she’d catch a glimpse into her sister’s private thoughts, maybe even her soul. She hesitated, afraid of what she might find. “This seems wrong. Like we’re trespassing.”
He slid her a glance. “I thought you wanted to find out who killed her.”
“I do.”
“Then?”
She stiffened her spine. “Yeah, I know.” As the wheels of his truck reached the bridge over Lake Pontchartrain, rain began