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“Leave that to me,” Annie said. “Hollywood’s full of them.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Sammie and I sat in guest chairs in Atticus’s office. Atticus was busy behind the computer, with Annie perched on the corner of the desk.
“It’s just as you’ve said, Sammie. There’s nothing about his murder anywhere,” Atticus said. “And I can’t find anything about a report of a missing person or child.”
“Right.” Sammie’s hands shook as she gripped the arms of the chair. “They would have kept it all hidden. If people knew I’d run away, there would be questions about why. It’s better for them if they take care of me on their own.”
“It’s weird that no one’s noticed you’re missing,” Annie said.
“If anyone went to the cops, they’d be ignored,” Sammie said. “The girls I worked with at the diner won’t ask any questions, because they know how things work there. No one wants to mess with the Underwoods.”
“Yeah, here’s the obit from the local paper.” Atticus paused, reading silently. “Nothing about how he died, just a few sentences about leaving a loving wife and child behind. According to this, he was a pillar of the community, church leader, and successful local businessman.”
“All lies,” Sammie said.
“Does your father-in-law run the newspaper too?” I asked.
“Not officially, but yes,” Sammie said. “They print whatever he asks them to.”
“It says in here they were having a private burial and a celebration of life sometime in the future,” Atticus said.
“I don’t get it,” Annie said. “Why wouldn’t the cops treat his death as a homicide? Wouldn’t the paramedics have been called? A bullet wound doesn’t happen by itself.”
Sammie had flinched at the word homicide. “You have to understand what it’s like there. The messiness of the whole thing is not something they’d want public. If they told everyone he was shot in a scuffle with his wife, it would open up a lot of questions. Why was there a fight? Why did he have a gun? What reason would I have had to kill him? I grew up there. People would find it hard to believe I was a cold-blooded killer. Everyone thinks the Underwood’s walk on water. The family wouldn’t want the whole thing examined, so they brushed it under the rug. It’s not the first time they lied about what really happened. They had a construction worker a few years back who died under mysterious circumstances. The widow made a fuss, trying to get answers. Next thing we knew, she was gone. My guess is they bought her off and asked her not-so-politely to leave town. Either that or they killed her.” Sammie shuddered and wrapped her arms around her waist.
“Good Lord, who are these people?” Annie asked.
Sammie’s complexion had whitened, and her features tightened, resembling candle wax. “They kept the details quiet, which proves that instead of going through the legal system to punish me and open up all the sordid details for public consumption, they’re planning on dealing with me themselves.”
“If they can find you,” Atticus said.
“They will,” Sammie said. “Eventually. It’s only a matter of time.”
The thought chilled me.
“We have money,” Annie said. “Which makes us just as powerful.”
“But how?” Sammie asked. “What can we do?”
Atticus and I exchanged glances.
“We want to hire a detective to go down and see what he can dig up on the Underwood family,” I said.
“And use that knowledge to our advantage,” Atticus said. “As leverage. We keep quiet, they leave you alone.”
“You mean like extortion?” Sammie asked, eyes wide with obvious horror.
Atticus winced. “I hate that word, but yes. It’s a sordid business, but your life’s on the line, not to mention little Chloe. Which calls for drastic measures.”
“Yeah, okay,” Sammie said. “I have to protect Chloe. That’s what matters most.”
“And she needs to be with you,” I said. “We’re going to make sure you keep her.”
* * *
By that evening, Annie had found a private investigator for the job. He’d completed successful cases in which he’d been tasked to find evidence, to prove someone either innocent or guilty.
