Clandestine: A Story of Three Sisters

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight- The Questions

"Murdered?" Momma whispered. "Oh Lord," she tucked her head in Charlotte's shoulder blade. Charlotte sucked in a breath and shook her head, disbelieving. She couldn't understand how this could happen.

"Who could do this?" Madison voiced Charlotte's thoughts, cuddling close with Momma, her own tears sticking dry to her face.

"Er, it's unclear as of right now." Pop answered. He and Jed shared a look, then quickly turned their eyes back to the ladies. Charlotte was the only one who caught it, her mother and Madison too busy holding each other and weeping.

"Madison, why don't you take Momma upstairs to bed? And you can go to your room, too, and I'll have someone bring up a bowl of hot soup. You two should rest," Charlotte told them.

"I can't eat. Not now," Momma said quietly.

"Momma, you need to." Charlotte responded. The two women left, while Charlotte stood and faced the men. "Pop, is there something else you weren't telling us?"

"Um, no. Nothing important. If it is, we will all know later," Pop reassured, though he didn't look too convinced either.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Madison led Momma to her room and helped her into bed. Momma sighed heavily, holding back anymore tears.

"As a parent, you never think this could happen. This is the worst thing a parent could experience, having her child die before her." Momma's lip quivered and Madison's throat felt swollen. She had to turn away so Momma couldn't see her tears. Madison had been so close to Abby, and to find her like that, hanging...

Madison shuddered at the picture that kept flashing through her mind of when she found Abby. Sure, all three sisters were like peas in a pod, but Charlotte had always been regarded as the most mature sister. She'd been their superior, so naturally the two younger girls were a little closer. They would get into all the trouble together, and Charlotte would clear it all up. Madison tried to remember a happy Abby, running through the fields and giggling ceaselessly, but the only sound she could picture was the almost silent creaking of the ceiling lamp as Abby swung back and forth, back and forth...

***

"Mr. Atticus?" Sheriff Pimberly approached Will as he raked hay off the barn floor. Everyone was too sad and shocked by the news of Miss Abigail's death to resume work on the farm for the day, but Will needed something to do to keep his mind off of it. But he stopped raking to turn to the sheriff and nod his head in greeting. The sheriff reached into his pocket and took out a pencil and a small, withered notebook, saying, "I'm Sheriff Pimberly, and if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Of course," Will responded, "Though I don't think I'll be much help to you. I was not particularly close to Miss Abigail."

"Are you particularly close to another Clandestine girl? Maybe if another one had died you'd be of more help, is that what you're saying?" The sheriff and Will held stern eye contact for a while, before Will simply bowed his head and Pimberly continued. "Anyway, could you tell me what you were doing earlier today? Particularly before and around the time Miss Abigail's body was discovered?"

"I've been doing today what I do pretty much everyday. I woke up, ate breakfast with the other employees, cleaned the horses' stalls, set up their food and water for the day, began brushing each one down--"

"And you didn't do anything out of the ordinary today?" Pimberly interrupted.

"No, I don't think so." Will told him, looking directly into his eyes.

"You don't think so?" Pimberly raised his eyebrows. "Do you not know for sure what you did today?"

"Sheriff, it sounds to me like you're trying to accuse me of something." Will spoke evenly, though his heart felt as if it were beating throughout his entire body.