Sheriff Flynn says there’s no proof—and never will be—of anybody’s guilt, but he now knows enough that he’s closing the case. “Sometimes a man has to do what he has to do,” he said, leaving it to the imagination of the listener as to what Roy Wyatt did or didn’t do to protect his child.
It looks like the town bad boy may have posthumously redeemed himself. But we’ll never know, will we? As Sheriff Flynn told us, “We should let the dead rest in peace.”
I say that it looks like what goes around, comes around.
When Kate put down the newspaper, her hands were shaking. Sara had moved behind her and she took it.
“This isn’t true,” Kate said. “Not any of it.”
Krystal shot a hateful look at Jack. “He’s been sleeping with her.”
Kate looked at Jack but he didn’t react. “With Cheryl? All that about the child abuse isn’t true. It was made up by—”
“Not her.” Krystal grabbed the newspaper. “Her!” She was punching it.
“Elliot Hughes is female,” Jack said but made no expression.
Kate gave him a narrowed-eye glance. So Elliot was the newscaster she’d heard he was dating? He should have told them of this complication. “That doesn’t mean—”
Krystal cut her off. She was staring at Jack. “Donna is in tears. She’s had to hear people say that her son is a murderer.” She looked at Sara. “I bet you like anything that causes her pain.”
“If you think—” Sara began.
Kate put her hand on her aunt’s arm, then looked at them. For all the softness she saw, their faces might as well be on Mount Rushmore. “Oh, the hell with all this,” Kate said, then turned to Krystal. “You have two choices. You can yell and scream and spit venom at us, or you can help us prove that Roy didn’t do it. Your choice.”
Kate got up and stalked into her room. She stood in front of the window, her arms crossed over her chest. She had to calm her own anger down. She’d spent a lifetime dealing with relatives who only knew anger. Orders. Decrees. Threats. Never any reasoning about anything.
After a few minutes, Jack came into her room. “Krystal has some things she wants to say to you.” When Kate didn’t react, he stepped behind her. “Come on,” he said. “She’s calmed down. I think she’ll talk now.”
Kate still didn’t move.
He put his hands on her shoulders. “We can stop this anytime you want,” he said softly. “My family is too much for me to handle, much less for an outsider.”
She rubbed her upper arms. “It’s not them. I think maybe it’s the injustice of it all. That article was truly awful. It condemned innocent people. It assumed guilt of both Cheryl and Verna.”
“And Roy.”
“Yes. And him.” She turned to face him. “If we figure this out, can you get that woman to retract what she wrote?”
“I think she’d love to write an in-depth piece about the truth.”
“Is she the newscaster Alastair said was your girlfriend?”
“Probably. I met her when she interviewed me about buying the houses. But it was just a one-night thing. We haven’t gone out since.”
“Think she had a good time with you?”
Jack blinked. “This happened before I met you. I didn’t—”
Kate waved her hand. “A newspaper insider might be useful in helping us. But if you did some quickie that turned her off, she’ll tell us to get lost.”
Jack’s eyes were wide. “No quickie. An all-nighter. Best she ever had. Her words, not mine.”
“Good. Unless she was lying. Let’s go talk to your stepmother.”
Shaking his head, Jack followed her back into the living room. Krystal was still sitting on the couch and she’d poured her drink into a glass with ice in it. Cheese and crackers had been added to the tray.
Sara was on the opposite sofa but she looked ready to run away if the atmosphere again got angry.