“You better believe they will,” the sheriff answered. “I’m going to hound them like it’s the end of the world. I need the keys to the Morris house. They’re going to go through everything in those boxes and analyze it. If there’s anything in there, they’ll find it.”
Sara got up and went to the door. She handed the SD card that contained the video to the sheriff. “You’ll let us know what you find out?”
“I will.” As they left the office, he put his hand on Kate’s arm. “Take care of them. And I’m sorry about you and Alastair. But then, he was probably just...”
“I know. Dating me to get information.” She smiled. “At least I’ll get to tell my grandkids that their decrepit old granny used to date a murderer.”
For a moment the sheriff looked shocked, then he laughed. “You are so much like your father. Someday we’ll have to have that lunch together. The stories I could tell you!” He squeezed her hand. “Make sure they stay out of trouble.”
“I will do my best.” Kate followed the others to the truck and they drove home in silence.
TWENTY-THREE
It had been ten days since they’d turned everything over to the Broward County Sheriff’s Department. They’d been interviewed at length, then told “Thanks, now go away.”
They hadn’t protested. Not even Sara made a quip. She’d smiled at Sheriff Flynn and said she knew he’d take care of everything. On the way to the truck, she’d said, “How can he screw it up when we did all the work for him?”
Kate had wondered how they’d get along, living in the same house, but with no unifying task to bond them, no murder to investigate. Now they had their separate jobs to go to. Actually, Aunt Sara was supposedly retired but Jack had laughed at that idea. “As long as she has paper and pen, she will occupy herself.” Since Aunt Sara spent most of her time in her little writing room, that appeared to be true.
Kate was glad to find out that her fears of living together in harmony were ill-founded. She and Jack shared an interest in local real estate. He brought home floor plans of the houses he’d bought and wanted to hear their opinions.
“I guess Mrs. Stewart won’t be buying the houses,” he’d said solemnly. They’d looked at one another and laughed hard.
It was easy for them to settle into a routine. Jack was the grill expert; Kate cooked in the kitchen. Sara was the organizer. Her years of plotting made her an expert on seeing what needed to be done and in what order.
The Medlar-Wyatt family formed an easy, comfortable existence—with Jack in control of the remote. Kate threatened him but he only laughed.
As for Alastair, he’d been released on bail almost immediately, but Sheriff Flynn called to tell them not to worry. They were building a case of proof. “He won’t get away with this,” the sheriff said, then hung up.
There was a small setback caused by the newspaper reporter—and Jack’s former bedmate—Elliot Hughes. She’d been given her own column, where she vowed to “reveal injustice” wherever she found it. She had been granted an interview with Alastair in the few hours he was in jail before his powerful Miami lawyer got him out.
Ms. Hughes said the lawyer made it clear that there was no evidence against his client and that Alastair Stewart had a “rock-solid alibi.”
“The whole charge is ridiculous,” he was quoted as saying, then Ms. Hughes went on to give her interpretation of the facts.
Alastair Stewart, from the highest of the high families in elegant little Lachlan, and Cheryl Morris, bottom of the lowest, were childhood sweethearts. But sadly, every moment they shared, every kiss, was in secret because their parents didn’t approve.
When Cheryl disappeared with no goodbye, Alastair had to cry alone.
Recently, Cheryl and her mother were found dead by notorious local bad boy Jack Wyatt—who was known to be a very, very close friend of the deceased. Jack says he bought the Morris house to remodel it. He swears that he knew nothing of the skeletons buried in the tree roots.
But what happened was so long ago that maybe no one will ever know the truth. All I can do is keep my loyal readers apprised of the development of this tragic story.
You can be sure that I won’t let up until I am thoroughly satisfied.
When Sara finished reading the article aloud, she glared at Jack.
“I guess I should have called her,” he said.
“You think??
?? Kate and Sara said together, then laughed and high-fived each other.
When Kate went back to work, she dreaded Melissa’s endless curiosity and her silly questions about Jack. But they didn’t come. She suspected that Tayla had threatened her job if she didn’t back off.
Within hours, Kate was showing houses. Thanks to Jack’s notes, she was able to honestly tell people the pros and cons of each place. Already, she had two possible sales. They just wanted to see the houses again. And again.
So now Kate was walking toward a house that had just come on the market this morning. “We already have a potential buyer,” Tayla had said. “A Mrs. Richardson from Charleston. She said that with global warming, that town has become too cold for her and she wants to move south.”