When Kate looked out, she saw a woman holding a newspaper, her thin face red with rage. She was older and had a hard look about her, as though she’d seen and done too much in her life. She had on tight shiny leggings and a red top with sparkles around the collar. Her shoulder-length hair was white blond.
She was still ringing the bell and kicking the door. Sara and Jack were nowhere to be seen. “Cowards!” Kate called out, then took a breath, put on a smile and opened the door. “Hello!” she said cheerfully, her hand extended. “I’m—”
“I know who you are. One of Jack’s. And a Medlar. Double curse on you. Where is he?” She didn’t give Kate time to answer but strode ahead. “Jackson!” she shouted. “Come out and face me!”
It took him a moment, but Jack entered the living room. He’d pulled on a T-shirt. “What do you want, Krystal?”
Behind them, Kate nodded. She remembered. Roy’s second wife and Evan’s mother.
Krystal waved the newspaper in Jack’s face. “You did this. To Evan’s father! How could you do that to my son? How could you...do...that?”
The woman’s energy was beginning to leave her. Kate went to her, put her hand under her arm and led her to one of the blue couches. Sara was peeping around the corner, so Kate motioned to her to get something to drink. Jack was reading the newspaper she’d brought.
When he finished, he sat down across from Krystal and put the paper on the coffee table. Kate knew him well enough to see that he was so angry that it was a wonder steam wasn’t coming out of his ears. She sat down beside Krystal.
“This is your fault,” Krystal said. “Flynn never tried to investigate your father. You must have told him—”
“You think he’d listen to me?” Jack said. “He hates me more than he did Roy.”
“Not Roy. He’s your father. You should call him Dad.”
Jack’s mouth went into a straight line of absolute stubbornness, and Kate knew she was seeing a glimpse of what Roy Wyatt’s temper must have been like.
Sara appeared with a tray full of drinks. She’d cleaned out the fridge of cans and bottles, had poured a cup of coffee and made a mug of tea. Not fancy, but certainly plentiful.
“What’s this?” Krystal glared at Sara. “You think you can shut me up with coffee?”
Sara suddenly looked as angry as Jack.
Kate leaned forward. Damn! This was like trying to deal with her uncles. She knew she’d only win them over by being on their side. “What did Jack do to you?” She heard his intake of breath but she ignored it.
Krystal’s anger was taking on new life. “He’s telling everyone that my husband killed those women.”
“Actually,” Kate said with exaggerated calm, “he’s been trying to prove the opposite. We were told that Roy was the murderer and that, since he’s passed away, we were to leave it alone. Jack insisted that we do whatever was necessary to prove his father was innocent.”
Krystal leaned back to look at Kate. “You’re a real sweet talker, aren’t you?” The way she said it was not a compliment.
But Kate acted as though it was meant as one. “Thank you.” She picked up the newspaper. “Mind if I read this?”
“Sure. Go
ahead.”
There was an adorable photo of Jack, younger than when he knew Cheryl, and a picture of Cheryl looking about twenty-five. It set the tone of the story that something was not right.
Tree Murders Solved
by Elliot Hughes
Rage. Lust. Child abuse. It’s all there in the twenty-year-old double homicide that was recently discovered in the tiny, quaint town of Lachlan, Florida. When a giant poinciana came down, two skeletons were found tangled in the roots. Sheriff Daryl Flynn of the Broward County Sheriff’s Department has now completed his intensive investigation.
The late Roy Wyatt was the town’s bad boy: dark and handsome, quick-tempered, practically lived on a big black Harley. He was in and out of jail from the time he was a teenager. Never stayed inside for long and some said it was because he could coax a peacock out of its plumage.
But one thing Roy was serious about was his eldest son, his little Mini-Me, Jackson Charles Wyatt.
Back in 1997, when Roy discovered that a teenage girl was abusing his young son by... Well, no one really knows what happened—or at least isn’t telling the sordid details.
What people do know is that twenty years later, the girl and her mother—who charged for being the town’s good-time gal—were found buried under a tree. And the property had recently been purchased by Jack Wyatt, the aforementioned son. How’s that for a cosmic coincidence?