Chapter Nine
Hubert stared at her. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, what if something happened to her?” Myrtle pulled the car into Hubert’s driveway. She turned to study him. His face and neck were a mottled red.
“You mean, like an accident? Went swimming in the lake and drowned?” demanded Hubert.
“Or something else. Perhaps she met with foul play,” suggested Myrtle.
Hubert gave a short, dismissive laugh. “Who would murder Tara Blanton? She was a child.”
“She was fifteen. Not so much of a child,” said Myrtle.
Hubert grabbed the door handle as if he were desperate to get out of the car. “I don’t know exactly what you’re implying, Myrtle, but if you’re blaming my family for something, you’re dead wrong. I wasn’t even at home when that girl disappeared, and neither was Pearl. The
