A/N:

Disclaimer: I'm not a police officer, or a county prosecutor, or a district attorney. And this is fiction. So I do apologize if the timeline for the legal happenings doesn't quite look right. Please enable your willing suspension of disbelief.

We're progressing forth a bit here, and there's a small amount of M-ness near the beginning. Elsie is feeling better every day, and will be back to work in under three weeks' time. So, um, here's to healing!

OMG, the reviews ... all of your reviews ... gah! I try to reply to each of them, but I'd love to chat with all of the guest reviewers, too, if you are so inclined. Please do consider opening an account so that your reviews may be answered!

My thanks to brenna-louise for looking this over even though she's still on her wonderful holiday! (hugs) I have made changes since she saw it, though, so any typos you may find are 100% mine. (*begs forgiveness for guaranteed typos herein*)

Back to Misty Cove we go! xx

CSotA

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

As Charles forced his eyes open in the predawn hours of Tuesday morning, he heard Elsie softly snoring underneath him. He'd fallen asleep on her chest somehow, and he lifted his head as he slowly reached for his pillow. Comfortable once again, he reached his arm over her and gently held her to him as she slept. He could smell her shampoo, a trace of her perfume, and the general smell of home that pervaded the house - some mixture of dinner, laundry, candles, and soap.

He felt his heart start to flutter a bit as it often did when he was feeling overwhelmed; he touched his thumb to his fingers, breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly, a calming technique he'd learned ages ago when he'd had his heart attack. It was a trick he'd employed many times, at least a dozen of them in the last twenty-four hours alone. He wasn't fearful of having another heart attack, but he was well aware that he needed to be careful.

As he exhaled the fourth time, he stared at Elsie's soft, relaxed face, almost childlike in its sleeping innocence. Her lips were moving, twitching almost, and he wasn't sure if she was going to wake or start talking in her sleep. But then she licked them, took a deep breath of her own, and tucked herself closer to him, tilting her head so that it was underneath his chin. Her soft snores resumed, and he smiled brilliantly into the near-darkness of the room.

As the minutes ticked on, Charles thought he'd never get back to sleep, not with the thoughts that were now rolling around in his mind. He had huge concerns for Mary and about the unknown identities of the bodies (although he was fairly certain of who they were).

Daisy is going to school today. What will she overhear? What will happen to Tommy with only his father to take care of him? Will they move? Surely not, although the man hasn't been around for ages now.

Counterbalancing all of that were the more pleasant thoughts he finally allowed himself to have about the wedding: what Elsie might want, where they might have it, where they should go on honeymoon. He clung most tightly to that last thought, knowing they'd need a little vacation once they made it through the storm that was currently brewing all around them.

But the idea of marrying the wonderful woman who was currently sleeping in his arms? That was what would keep him going these next few days. She'd soothed him so gently, so thoroughly, last night, knowing just what he needed, what he'd allow and what he wouldn't allow. He'd given himself up to her wholly, and she'd cared for him in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever been cared for before.

She'd told him he could be the boss today, and he fully intended to hold her to that. He had a multitude of things to do, including checking in with Mary, but he was hell-bent that he and Elsie would be spending at least three hours alone together, without another soul to think of besides each other, and preferably in this very room. He needed to get lost in her touch for a while, and he had a feeling she needed the same.

Thus decided, Charles tucked his face into Elsie's hair and was finally able to drift back to sleep.

When Elsie woke, she found she didn't want to move, so comfortable was she wrapped in her beloved man's embrace.

This is how I want to awaken every day, she thought with a happy sigh. Just like this.

But she did move, eventually, pulling herself out from underneath his arm so that she could nip to the bathroom and back without waking him. She glanced at the clock: 5:10.

As she scooted back into bed, Elsie sidled up against his body and bumped into … Well, now. Imagine that. She smirked as she heard him gasp, and she gently rolled onto her side to face him, resting her leg up on his in order to keep the pressure of her hip from weighing down on her back.*

Charles had stirred a bit from the sensation of being bumped into, but he woke fully when Elsie rested her leg over his. He kept his eyes closed, though, relishing in the sensation of her hand ghosting over his chest and shoulders. Her fingers traveled down across his stomach, then slid underneath the waistband of his pajamas just before she wrapped her hand around him.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" he mumbled, his eyes still closed as he gasped with pleasure, his fingers tight around the edges of his pillow.

"What does it feel like I'm doing?" she mumbled back. "It's early, and you're … up." She leaned forward and placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder, supporting herself gingerly on her elbow.

His eyes did open then. "Els, you're not supposed … ahhhh, oh my … um, not supposed to be moving about like that. On your …" gasp … "side."

"I'm fine," she said, applying more pressure as she caressed him, reaching a bit further down to gently drag her nails across his sensitive skin.

"Elsie, stop, please," he begged, reaching for her hand. "Or, at least, wait."

He removed her hand from his pajamas, then gently rolled her onto her back.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, confused. "I'm sorry, I thought -"

"Shh," he cut her off, leaning over and kissing her rather passionately, sweeping his tongue across hers before trailing his kisses across her cheek, down her jaw and to her collarbone, using one of his hands to gently lift her nightshirt as he used the other to suspend himself over her body. "It's not all about me," he clarified with a smile.

"Well, it could have been. But I did say you could be the boss today," she breathed as his fingers trailed downward.

"You did," he replied.

"This wasn't exactly what I meant by that," she said, and he laughed softly.

"Is that a criticism?"

"Hardly."

He moved to kiss her softly, and then whispered in her ear.

"I'm going to try something, Elsie, but if it hurts you, just let me know and I'll stop. Alright?"

She looked at him with wide, questioning eyes, but just nodded.

He moved back down the bed slowly, trailing kisses down her body as he did so. She realized what he had in mind just before he lifted her legs and placed them gently over his shoulders. He looked up at her questioningly, a smile playing about his lips, and she relaxed back down onto the pillow.

"I'm fine," she murmured, and he felt a surge of pride at the catch he heard in her voice.

Elsie willed herself to relax as she felt his lips kissing from her knee upward - agonizingly slowly, a flick of his tongue every now and again, as though he were teasing her of what was to come. And then she felt his large hand on her abdomen, keeping her steady as he …

Ohhh …

She had to will herself to remain steady, to not writhe her hips underneath him as he gave her his undivided, delicious attention. She could hear herself panting after a few moments.

Rather unladylike, she thought, but she didn't care.

The forced stillness, combined with the ever-present need to remain as quiet as possible, was making her almost mad with desire. And it had been so long since they'd done this, she was just … well, overwhelmed.

He could feel her desire climbing, growing, the muscles in her thighs tightening around him, and he slowed his ministrations and pulled away from her slowly. She groaned with frustration, and he chuckled at her as he wiped the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, I'm not done yet," he reassured her.

She watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he slowly rose above her, cradling himself between her legs.

"Charles," she cautioned, but he silenced her with one look: Trust me, it said, and she nodded.

She did.

He reached for her left leg and moved it a bit, straightening it so that it was only bent slightly; he then took her other leg in his hand and bent it a bit further up, opening her to his body but not nearly as much as she normally would have been.

"How's that?" he whispered in her ear, and she nodded quickly.

"Fine, it's fine, oh my God, just do … something." She grasped for him but couldn't reach what she wanted while lying flat on her back.

Charles reached underneath the small of her back and lifted her gently, supporting her weight with his hand. He slowly, agonizingly slowly, slid into her, and she almost cried out in joy at the feeling of having the weight of him upon her - and within her - once again.

By keeping one of her legs down he was lessening the amount of pressure put on her tailbone, but the pressure inside was incredibly different. She could see the furrowed concentration on his brow, the amount of effort he was putting into making sure she wasn't being hurt at all.

"I'm alright," she gasped, encouraging him. "You can … a little more, a bit faster, I think, just … gently."

He'd never made love this slowly in his life, and the need for restraint was almost overwhelming him.

She'd never felt such tenderness; his clear regard for her well-being, his complete and total dedication to her desires and needs wholly overshadowing what she sensed were his own. The intensity of that, coupled with the fiery love in his eyes as they bored into hers, was going to prove to be her undoing.

As the tension built, she contracted her muscles around him, and they both tumbled over the edge in wave after wave of pleasure. It was all he could do not to collapse on top of her, and he slowly withdrew his body from hers after a few moments and removed his arm from behind her back, allowing her to rest against the support of the bed. She lowered her leg as he rolled onto his side, drawing her into his arms and placing feather-light kisses to her shoulders, her neck, and her lips.

"That was … amazing," she said. "Thank you for being so gentle ... Boss."

He chuckled softly. "I bet that's not exactly what you meant, though."

"Do you hear me complaining?" She snuggled in a bit closer to him and he kissed her on the forehead. "How'd you sleep?"

"Very well, actually. I'll have you know that I've already made plans for the rest of our day, too," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Plans like this?" she asked, reaching her hand down and caressing him once again.

"Mmm, yes, rather like this," he said, swallowing. "But after we get the girl to school."

"So you'll come home, and then I'll get to spend a lazy day in bed with you? I'll take those plans anytime," she smiled. "Go get in the shower, love. I'll get up and get breakfast started."

He helped her out of the bed, and she nodded when she caught his questioning gaze.

"I'm fine," she said. "Better than fine. Amazing."

He smiled at her, and wrapped her in his arms as she stood.

"You are amazing," he whispered into her hair. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and tilted her face up so that he could look straight into her brilliant blue eyes. "And don't you ever forget it, my love."

"Well, Daisy's all set," Charles said as he came into the house. He dropped a kiss to Elsie's forehead as he reached for the cup of tea she prepared for him.

"Did she meet Tommy at the door?"

"She did, actually - insisted on waiting in the car until he arrived, so we pulled into the parking area instead. Of course, he had Jimmy with him, too. I think he'll be alright; Jimmy seems quite protective of him."

"Good," she replied as she stood in front of the sink and looked out the window. "I'm so worried about him, Charles. Phyllis is going to try and get a hold of his father today, but …"

He moved up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I know," he whispered, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Maybe she'll have trouble reaching him and he can just stay with the Kents."

Elsie turned to smile sadly at him. "It doesn't quite work that way, but Phyllis is a licensed social worker; she'll take care of it. I've no idea if he has other family, but even if he did, there's no way of knowing if she could even contact them." She sighed deeply. "We'll see what happens when she calls his father. I told her to keep me posted."

They sat down and had a leisurely breakfast, stealing glances and sending smiles to one another across the table. It felt so normal, so married, that Elsie had to keep reminding herself that they weren't actually wed yet.

"What?" Charles looked at her inquisitively.

"Just thinking." She smiled half heartedly. "We're supposed to be planning a wedding, but we've kind of got a lot going on at the moment."

"As it happens, I was thinking of that very thing this morning," he said, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "We should at least determine what type of wedding, and perhaps the where of the thing."

"The where?" She looked at him in horror. "No way, Charles - we are not having this wedding in England."

He laughed aloud. "Oh, heavens no! That's not at all what I meant. I was referring to whether or not you'd like a church wedding."

"Oh, I see," she laughed. "Well, what do you want?"

He saw her draw her lip under her teeth, the telltale sign that she was worried about his answer.

"I want to marry you," he said simply, squeezing her fingers. "I don't much care where or how, as long as you're the one walking up to where I'll be standing." He kissed the back of her hand, and smiled.

"Well," she said, smiling back. "You did the church thing the first time around, didn't you? Even Joe and I had a church ceremony, and it was just us and Becky."

"We did, yes, and with hundreds of guests, too," he grumbled. "I don't think that many people live in this entire town."

"Well, I don't really want the entire town," she joked. "Just you and Daisy, Becky, a few friends, and your family. That's it." She got up and took their plates to the sink.

"So you wouldn't mind if it weren't at the church?" he clarified.

"No, not at all."

"Well, then," he began, unsure of what she'd do when she heard his suggestion. He moved to her side of the counter and leaned back on it.

Elsie heard the hesitation in his voice and turned to face him. "What are you thinking, Charles? Out with it."

He reached out and took her hands. "How about ... the beach?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "As in on the beach? Here?"

"At Mary's place." He leaned down to kiss her. "It's rather … special to us, isn't it? I mean, it is to me, because of you. And I know she'd be happy to do it."

"She's rather got a lot on her plate at the moment, Charlie," she chided.

"I don't mean she should plan it, Els. Just that she could let us use the house, the property. We can easily accommodate … twenty-five, probably?"

Elsie did a quick mental calculation: Thirteen at Easter, plus Becky, the Crawleys, Isobel, likely Richard … Phyllis and Joseph, maybe Tom Branson, definitely Mary …

"That could work," she said, a smile growing on her lips. "Beachfront ceremony, and we'd easily be able to use the piano room if it were to rain. We could set up white folding chairs …" She trailed off, and he smiled to see her staring off into the distance, her eyes already alight with excitement.

It seemed like they finally - finally - had some things that were looking up.

Mary rubbed her hands up and down her arms, grateful for the sweater she'd tossed on at the last minute. She took another bite of the breakfast sandwich she'd brought along, trying to choke it down even though it was making her nauseous.

Burned. Gone - all of it. And likely Richard, too, and who knows who else.

She was waiting for Vyner to return with coffee. He'd let her spend the night at her house but had requested she return by eight in the morning. They'd spent most of the previous evening at the station discussing what she wanted: Mary had offered to turn over the files she'd taken from her husband, proving that he'd been blackmailing several of Misty Cove's citizens for years, in exchange for full immunity from her own crime. He'd raised an eyebrow at that, and she explained that one of the stories on Richard's flash drive was her story. Vyner had encouraged her to get an attorney; she'd called Charlie and asked his advice, and he'd told her what to say.

"Here we are," Vyner said, coming into the room with a drink tray. He handed one of the cups to her. "And I have this, too, fresh from the fax machine."

He slid a manila folder across the table. "That's your deal. The District Attorney will give you one hour to accept it, which is ridiculously generous if you ask me."

"May I call Charles?"

"If he can get here quickly enough to look at that," he said, pointing to the folder, "be my guest. You're not a suspect in the arson, and the DA really wants to see what you have on that drive. Go for it."

Mary stepped out and placed the call.

Charles hung up the phone and turned to Elsie.

"That was Mary. Vyner has gotten her a deal."

"Wait … I thought she wasn't going to be charged for the fire?" Elsie was clearly confused, and then she remembered something Charles said the night before. "Wait a minute …"

But he held up a hand, effectively cutting her off. "She wants to know if we can go down and meet her, and I can look over the deal, make sure there are no loopholes."

"We?"

He nodded. "She wants you there, too. Said if she's going to tell her story, she's only doing it once. For now, anyhow."

"But her parents -"

"Don't have time to get here. Please, Elsie. Just … just come. For me?"

She sighed. "Do I have time to shower?"

"Alone?" he smirked. "Sure."

They pulled up in front of the police station thirty-five minutes later. Charles helped Elsie out of the car and took her hand as they headed in.

"Ms. Hughes? Nice to see you," Vyner said, tipping his head to her.

"Likewise, Chief. How come you're handling this?" Elsie asked bluntly. "Why not task it out to Willis?"

"He's at the fire scene with the inspector," Vyner replied, indicating the empty chairs. "Is this alright?"

Elsie reached for the sturdier of the chairs and nodded. "Fine, thanks."

Charles and Elsie moved the chairs over by Mary, who stood to give her uncle a hug. Elsie reached out to grasp her hand, and shuddered at how cold Mary's fingers were.

"Thank you for coming," Mary said to her. Elsie noted she was trembling, and she didn't think it was just from the cold temperature of the room.

"Have you slept?" Elsie asked softly. "Eaten?"

"I have," Mary nodded. "Slept six hours, ate a sandwich."

She took her seat and handed the agreement paperwork to Charles, who reached for his breast pocket to remove his reading glasses … and then remembered he'd left them at home.

"Here," Elsie chuckled, reaching into her purse and handing him hers. "I should keep a spare pair in here for you - brown, maybe," and she smiled when she heard Mary's laugh.

"Oh, I don't know, Elsie. The purple suits him, I think."

"Ha, bloody ha," Charles muttered, donning her spectacles and looking over the file. He scanned the deal, read everything through twice.

"Looks good, Mary," he told her. "I'd sign it."

"So she pleads guilty to the vehicular manslaughter," Vyner reviewed, ignoring Elsie's gasp, "and serves five years' probation in exchange for turning in evidence on her husband. Obviously it won't matter where he's concerned if he's dead," he continued bluntly, "but Mary here assures me that there's information on that flash drive about plenty of other crimes that we can prosecute, things that directly affect residents of Misty Cove."

"You won't be able to go home," Charles said to her quietly. "You'll need to remain here. Not in Misty Cove if you choose not to, but you can't leave the county."

"That's fine," Mary said, nodding. "I wouldn't have gone home, I don't think. Not now … not anymore. There's really nothing left for me there."

"Woah," Elsie managed, her hand in the air. "Will someone please tell me what the hell this is all about?"

"That's why you're here," Mary said. She looked at Vyner and held out her hand for his pen, which she used to sign and date the form.

He placed a voice recorder on the table and pushed record, and once again, Mary Crawley told the tale of that horrible night that tied her to Richard Carlisle for what she'd feared would be the rest of her life.

As she spoke, Elsie was completely stunned. When Mary got to the bit about the car crash, Elsie reached over and took Mary's hand in hers but remained silent, her bitten lip the only sign that she was emotionally overwhelmed by what she was hearing. She was glad Charles was seated down the table, too, as if they could buoy Mary between them if she faltered.

"You drove away? Just like that?" Vyner said.

"Just like that," Mary said, her jaw set. "And I've been paying for it ever since."

"My God," Elsie murmured.

Mary finished her story, and Vyner shut off the recorder. He looked at Charles and said, "It was officially determined that the fire at the office was, indeed, arson. Started in the office, near all of the paper and chemicals, and spread from there. The fire escape was also set on fire, so whoever did this most definitely didn't want anyone getting out alive. Looks like they expected Carlisle to be up there." He looked at Mary. "And maybe you, too?"

Mary just shrugged, but Elsie noticed that her hand started trembling again.

"And there are no leads at all?" Charles asked.

"Not yet," Vyner said, lips pursed. "The ME is examining the bodies now, running DNA and other tests. The main factor being determined is whether or not they were alive at the time of the fire. If not, then your niece here isn't out of the woods yet. The deal doesn't extend to murder charges if she killed her husband."

"And the woman?" Mary asked quietly, ignoring his ridiculous insinuation. "You've no idea who she might be?"

She saw Vyner look at Elsie, then back at the table.

"You do know who she is!" Mary gasped. "Or at least, you think you might?"

"It's possible that we do," Elsie said quietly. "Tommy Barrow came to our house last night. His mother never made it home yesterday evening."

Mary whipped her head around and looked at Charles. "She had a file," she whispered, and he nodded.

"Sorry?" Vyner asked.

Mary dropped the flash drive onto the table and pushed it over to him.

"Here," she said. "It's all on here. My story ... and everyone else's."

"How many?" Vyner asked.

"Almost fifty," she replied. "And they're all in Misty Cove."

"All being blackmailed?"

"No," she said, "but most, I'd wager. But Mrs. Barrow was."

"And you had no idea about any of it until recently? How is that even possible?"

"I suspected, ever since last autumn," Mary admitted. "But I didn't know until he threatened Elsie's sister at a family gathering. I dug around for information, wanted to know how he even knew about Elsie's having a sister. I didn't know - I don't think most people in Misty Cove know."

"No," Elsie confirmed, "they don't."

Vyner looked at her. "Were you being blackmailed?" he asked.

"No," Elsie insisted, "but I'm honestly not sure why. Maybe because he knew I'd turn him in." She briefly explained the story of Becky, and Vyner took a couple of notes.

"Mind if I call the home and talk to your sister?" he asked.

"I do, actually," Elsie replied, an edge to her voice that wasn't there before. "Becky is in no fit condition to be interrogated by a police officer. You can't anyhow, not alone; I'm her legal guardian, and I'd need to be present."

"We'll see about that," Vyner muttered. He let it drop though, and stood, the others following suit. "You're free to go for now, Mrs. Carlisle. I'll call you once we've seen what's on this," he added, holding up the flash drive.

"I can't wait," Mary muttered coldly. She looked at Charles and Elsie. "I'm ready to go home."

Elsie and Charles arrived back at the farm at lunchtime.

"Well," Elsie said as she opened the front door. "I can see why she wouldn't want to tell that story over and over again."

"Hm," he hummed in reply, his mind still back at the station.

"Come on," Elsie coaxed him, pulling him to the kitchen. "You're going to drop that if you aren't careful."

They had stopped for lunch on the way back to the house and picked up a pizza. Charles set it on the counter and grabbed two plates from the cupboard; Elsie fed Max, and then they sat down beside Charles.

They ate in silence, mulling over how the morning had gone. Elsie tried to clear her head, tried to make sense of what she could and then file it away for another time.

She wasn't really paying attention when Charles cleaned up the dishes, but she snapped back to the present when he took her hand and helped her out of her chair.

"Come on. I believe I had plans for this day."

"Rather pushy, aren't you, Mr. Carson?" she teased.

"Yes," he admitted, peeking at his watch. "I have three hours to spend with you before I have to fetch Daisy."

"Three hours ... Whatever shall we do?"

"That depends. How are you feeling?"

"Extremely well, I think."

"I see," he said, kissing the inside of her wrist. "Well, in that case, do you want to go out somewhere?"

"Not particularly."

"Hm. Board games? Or we could spend more time planning for the wedding. And you probably need to review the schedule for the barn …"

"Charlie …" she warned, licking her lips.

"What?" he asked innocently.

She moved forward to stand flush against him and pulled his face down for a searing kiss.

"Perhaps you can just stop talking and take me to bed?"

He laughed and reached down to kiss her neck.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Phyllis Baxter slammed the phone down in its cradle and swore. She sat back in her chair and twiddled her pen between her thumb and forefinger as she scanned the paperwork in front of her, trying to make sense of the conversation she'd just had - before she'd been hung up on, anyhow.

Bits and pieces of it kept coming back to her … Not my real son … whore of a mother … new life … not coming back … let the boy fend for himself … she got what was coming to her ...

"Phyllis?"

Joseph's soft voice came from the doorway and she turned abruptly to face him.

"Hey, what's this?" he said quietly as he reached for a Kleenex and handed it to her, and she realized as he moved to close her office door that she was crying.

"I can't tell you, I'm afraid," she said with a half-laugh, half-hiccup. "But you'll find out soon enough. By tomorrow, I think almost everyone will know."

Joseph was pretty sure he already knew what had his favorite girl this upset on a Tuesday afternoon, but he kept it to himself for now. The rumor mill was already running rampant, Sarah was a no-show at school today, and the visit from the police chief had only made things worse.

"How about dinner tonight?" he said aloud. "My place. The weather's been fine, and I've got some beautiful steaks that we can toss on the grill. Deal?"

She looked up at him gratefully and nodded as she rose from the chair.

"Deal. And … Joseph?"

"Yes?"

She leaned forward and kissed him chastely on the lips.

"Thank you."

He drew her into his arms and rubbed her back soothingly.

"Anytime."

Elsie heard Max bark as the mail was delivered. She quickly finished brushing her hair and put it up in a loose bun, then made her way out to the front step. She pulled a flyer and what looked like some junk mail from the box, then headed back in to pour herself a cup of tea before sitting down to look through the grocery ad.

As she tossed the items on the table, her eyes fell on a strange-looking, light blue envelope. Curious, she picked it up; the writing was somewhat familiar, but she didn't know why. She slipped her finger under the flap and tore it open, vaguely aware of the sound of the Volvo coming down the drive, carrying Charles and Daisy home for the afternoon.

Elsie pulled out the note and began to read it, extremely glad that she'd chosen to sit down first. She scanned the words two times, then another, and abruptly got up and rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before she emptied the entire contents of her stomach.

"Elsie?" Charles called, coming into the house. "Anna's here, I let Daisy stay out there with her. Els?"

She heard him coming down the hall as she flushed the toilet. "In here," she called as she stood up again. She rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth quickly.

"Are you alright, love?" he asked. "Were you ill?"

"Yes," she said, "but I'm alright now. It was the shock, I think," she added, pushing past him and heading back to the dining table where she retrieved the note. "From this. Here," she said, handing the paper to him. "And sit down before you read it."

He sat on the sofa and took the note from her, a wary look on his face. She sat next to him and leaned over a bit, laying her head on his shoulder as he read but keeping her eyes shut so that she wouldn't see the words again. It didn't help much; the hideous words were still imprinted on her mind's eye.

Charles's eyes widened as he scanned the letter quickly, and his grip on the paper's edge tightened as it crinkled between his fingers. He went back over it again, more slowly, taking in every word ...

Well, well, well.

Elsie Hughes. Little Miss Perfect. I guess you think you've got it all now. Perfect girl, perfect man. Perfect home.

Perfect sister. Except she's not, is she? Ahh, but you don't KNOW, do you? You don't know that I know all about you. About HER. I know about your SECRETS. Because we all have secrets, don't we? All. Of. Us.

And I know yours. Covering up your sister's SHAME, because Becky was a little SLUT, wasn't she? Coming on to him like that, MAKING him do what he did. And then trying to SHUT HIM UP. And YOU trying to shut him up. Making her look pathetic instead of admitting it, admitting what she did, of how she tried to seduce him. And then she LIED about it, about it all, and SHE attacked HIM!

And now he's paying for it. And so am I. But not you - ohhh, no. Because Richard was too much of a fucking COWARD to take care of you. And his stupid sister was useless, wasn't she? Of course she was.

You'd better watch out … Because I'm coming back for you.

S

"What the fuck is the matter with that woman?" Charles growled, and Elsie felt his hand tremble as he laid it on her leg. "This is going to the police station now, Elsie."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not yet. I can't go back there today. Daisy's home, we should stay here."

"I presume this is from Sarah? 'S?' It has to be her, Els. But what the -"

"You saw it," she whispered, tears pouring down her cheeks. "She said - she insinuated - that Becky … that my precious, innocent, beautiful Becky … But she didn't. She couldn't have."

"Els?" Damn it, but he didn't want to ask. "Did Sarah's brother … did he try to …"

"I don't know," she whispered. "When I showed up that day, Becky was curled up in a fetal position and rocking back and forth on the floor. She wouldn't speak to me - I thought it was because she was afraid of what she'd done." She twisted her hands in her lap. "I should have asked. I should have known, Charlie," she whispered.

He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face. "No," he soothed her. "No … There's no way you could have known this. You had no reason to suspect." He picked up the letter, his hand still trembling in his fury. "This is a lie; it has to be. I refuse to believe that your sister, that our Becky, could do anything remotely close to what this hints at."

"But why say it?" she whispered.

"Perhaps it's what he told her? Perhaps it was her brother's story, and she just believed him. Perhaps she's a frigging lunatic? Who knows?"

"Well, she's not getting away with this. I didn't touch the middle of the paper, and neither did you. Maybe they can find her fingerprints on it or something." She took it back from him. "Damn her!" she shouted.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me. I cannot take much more drama today, Elsie thought, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead. This had better be good news.

She carefully tucked the letter away again, and Charles opened the door to …

"Phyllis?"

"May I come in?" Phyllis asked quietly. "Is Elsie here?"

"Of course," he said, moving back to let her in. "It's lovely of you stop by."

"Phyllis, can I get you some tea?" Elsie asked, her voice a bit shaky.

She nodded, and then she took in her friend's appearance.

"Elsie? Oh, I'm sorry. Are you feeling alright? You don't look so well. I'd come back later if I could."

"Oh, no, it's … Well, I won't lie to you. It's not 'nothing,' but it's nothing I can deal with at the moment."

She set three cups of tea and some biscuits on the table, suddenly hungry after having gotten sick earlier.

"How's school?" she asked Phyllis.

"Fine, but Sarah O'Brien didn't show up today. She called out yesterday, but today was a mystery, so that was a scramble for poor Edith."

Elsie blanched. "She didn't show up?"

"No." Phyllis looked at Elsie curiously, wondering what she was missing, but decided to let it slide. She had more important things to discuss at the moment than Sarah O'Brien. She spared a moment to wish Charles weren't home, but there was nothing to be done about it.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush, Elsie. I'm not here just to visit, but I really wish I were."

"Is it Tommy?" she whispered. "Have they found his mother … identified her?"

Phyllis sighed. "Yes ... and no. Yes, it's about Tommy, but no, they've not identified one of the victims as his mother - at least, not to my knowledge."

"Alright." Elsie furrowed her brow at Charles, but he was watching Phyllis, waiting for her to tell them whatever she'd come over to discuss.

"I managed to contact Mr. Barrow today. It took a while, but someone managed to track him down for me from a phone number that I got from the dock manager up here."

"He's still in North Carolina?"

"He is." She paused and took a sip of her tea. "Technically, I shouldn't be telling you this with Charles present, but it's not going to matter soon anyhow."

"I can leave if you need me to," he suggested, but Phyllis shook her head.

"No, it's fine."

"So, is he coming back up? Oh, Phyllis, he's not taking Tommy away, is he?" Elsie was horrified at the prospect, quite able to imagine what life would be like for Tommy with only his father around, removed from everyone he knew and cared about in Misty Cove and dealing with his mother's probable death on top of it all. She started to shiver slightly, and Charles reached for her hand under the table.

"No, he's not. In fact … well, there's no easy way to say this. He claims he is not Tommy's real father."

"What?"

"He swears it, says he has a paternity form to prove it, filed somewhere at the Barrow house. He also had other things to say, things that I'm not sure I believe or not."

"Let me guess - his wife was being blackmailed because of it?"

Phyllis's head shot up. "How could you possibly have known that?" she whispered.

"Long story," said Charles. "What, exactly, did he say?"

"He claims that his wife was being blackmailed by her … well, by her brother."

Charles felt his head starting to spin, and Elsie winced before he realized how tightly he'd been squeezing her hand.

"Sorry, love," he muttered. "Wait … Mr. Barrow claims that his wife and Richard Carlisle were siblings?"

"He does," she nodded slowly. Of course they know ... of course. "I'm not going to insult you both by asking how you knew he was the blackmailer."

"Thank you," Elsie said quietly. "But Phyllis, that means …"

"It means that, technically, Mary Carlisle is Tommy's aunt, yes. And in a perfect world, we'd have identified what really happened to Laura Barrow already, and Tommy would be able to live with Mary, and everything would be fine. Or he'd be able to stay permanently with the Kents. Or any number of things. But we know that's not how this works.

"Assuming the bodies in the fire do, indeed, belong to Laura Barrow and Richard Carlisle, Mary would be in no fit state to take in Tommy even if this wild accusation were true - which I seriously doubt at this point. The man sounded completely crazy on the phone."

"Was he drunk?" Elsie asked, thinking back to things Tommy had said in the past.

"No," Phyllis said slowly, her brow creased as she thought back. "I don't think so, just … well, nasty."

"And why can't he stay with the Kents?" Charles asked. "He's there now, and it's fine. Mrs. Kent said to us that she'd be able to keep him for a few days, no problem."

"That's presuming Tommy's parents are alive and present. But if his mother is dead, and if the man he believed to be his father is not his actual father, then Tommy is considered a ward of the State of Maine, and must be remanded to a foster care placement home as soon as possible."

"But surely there must be some foster families in Misty Cove, even if it is a small town?"

Phyllis nodded. "There are three, actually. Two of them have children currently assigned. The third is … well, we've not placed children there before."

"Oh, no," Charles murmured. "Are they now unfit, or is there a problem? I know sometimes people don't want teenagers."

"No, it's not that," Phyllis hedged, playing with her fingernail and resolutely not looking at either Charles or Elsie.

"I don't understand," Charles said, shaking his head. "If there's an open home out there, and it's a viable option, then why do you seem concerned? Who is it?"

Elsie spoke up then, looking guiltily at Charles as she squeezed his hand.

"It's me," she whispered. "The other qualified foster parent in Misty Cove is me, Charles. That's why Phyllis is here."

*Honest to goodness advice from a chiropractor, regardless of whether or not one's back is broken.

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