Free The Deep End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 2) by Keeley Bates Page B

didn’t stop even when she heard Kit and Francie calling her name. She ran out of the pub and onto the sidewalk where Rebecca still stood, gazing forlornly at nothing at all.
     
    The car ride back to Kit’s was eerily quiet. They’d dropped Francie off at Musgrove Manor and continued in silence to Thornhill Road. Kit was afraid to ask what had happened back at the pub. They’d been having such a good time until the end.
    Glancing in her rearview mirror, she noticed tears streaming down Charlotte’s face.
    “Charlotte, I can’t tell in this light,” Kit said. “Are those tears of happiness or tears of misery?”
    Charlotte stared out the window, her nose pressed against the glass. “Sadness,” she murmured. “Complete and utter sadness.”
    Rebecca took her hand. “Me, too.”
    When they arrived back at Kit’s, Charlotte didn’t follow them to the door. Instead, she ran to her own car parked out front.
    “Charlotte,” Rebecca called. “Where are you going?”
    “I’ll be back soon,” she said and slipped into her car. She heard them calling her name, but she ignored them. There was only person she wanted to speak to right now and he was not there.
    Charlotte drove to the address he’d mentioned during their date at the museum. For someone like Charlotte, GPS was invaluable. She never could have navigated here without help and reading a map in the dark while driving was next to impossible.
    The robotic voice of the GPS told her that she’d arrived at her destination. Charlotte pulled alongside the curb and cut the engine. The windows were all dark except one upstairs. She got out of the car and hurried to the steps of the brick townhouse.
    Gathering her courage, she banged on the front door. She didn’t care that the hour was late. She wanted answers. She deserved answers.
    Charlotte heard movement inside but no one came to the door. “Brendan,” she yelled. “Open this door. I need to talk to you.”
    She waited a moment and then knocked harder and louder. “Please open this door and tell me it isn’t true.” Her voice cracked and, despite her best efforts, she began to cry. “Brendan!”
    He didn’t come. Somehow she knew that he was inside, listening. How could he do this to her? Why would he do this to her?
    She stared at the darkened windows, an awful thought forming in her mind. What if he had killed Jasmine? She took a step backward, reconsidering her actions. Perhaps standing on his doorstep demanding the truth was a bad idea. With a trembling sigh, she returned to her car and drove back to Thornhill Road with a heavy heart.
     
    Charlotte waited until morning to drop the Brendan bombshell. She’d been too exhausted the night before and Kit and Rebecca had already gone to bed by the time she returned.
    They were in the kitchen where Kit was attempting to make poached eggs. She’d insisted she’d made them before, but watching her swishing the water in the pot into a whirlpool made Charlotte question the veracity of her statement.
    “I know who Jasmine’s boyfriend was,” she announced from her place at the table.
    Rebecca’s head jerked to attention. “You do?”
    She told them about the redhead at the Irish Pub and they gaped at her in disbelief.
    “Brendan?” Kit repeated. “The Porsche-driving, museum-loving hunk of burning love that graced our doorstep?”
    Charlotte nodded mutely.
    “Do you think the woman was lying?” Rebecca asked. “Maybe she was like Jasmine. Someone who likes to stir the pot.”
    “Oh, I think she was like Jasmine,” Charlotte agreed. “But I don’t see why she would lie. How would she even know about Brendan and me?”
    “Is that where you went last night?” Kit asked.
    “He didn’t answer the door, but I know he was there.” Charlotte sipped her tea. “So he gave me the truth, in his own way.”
    Kit pressed her lips together. “You’re not going to like this…”
    Charlotte met her gaze. “I know, I know. We need to tell Romeo.”