They gently lowered the man to the floor and Jack took his pulse, then shook his head.
He was dead.
“Take her out of here,” he said to Sara as he got his phone out of his pocket and called 911.
Sara had her arm around Kate’s shoulders and was leading her to the door. “Jack.” Sara was nodding toward a piece of paper on the floor. It looked like a suicide note. He didn’t touch it but quickly took a photo of it on his phone.
Sara led Kate outside, and they sat side by side on the concrete steps.
“We shouldn’t have taken him down,” Kate whispered. “The police will want to know—”
“We thought there was a chance he was alive.”
Jack came out of the house and picked up Sara’s camera. “Can you...?”
“Yeah, sure.” She got up, took the camera and went inside to photograph everything—especially the man.
Jack sat down by Kate. “You okay?”
She held her hand out straight. It was shaking.
“We can’t leave until after the police clear the scene.”
She nodded. “I recognized him, Jack. He’s the man I saw in town.”
“Yes. Dan Bruebaker.”
“The man Alastair wanted me to talk to. Why didn’t I do it? Alastair was so sure that Dan knew something. I could have—”
Jack put his arm around her shoulders and drew her head onto his shoulder. “You are not allowed to blame yourself about this. You couldn’t have prevented it or—”
She pulled away from him. “There was a note, right?”
“Yes.” He held out his phone. “I didn’t read it.”
The sound of sirens reached them.
“Email it to someone,” she said quickly. “If the sheriff knows we have a copy, he’ll take it.”
“Good idea.” He tapped a name, sent the message, then erased it from his phone.
In the next second, they stood up because coming toward them was Sheriff Flynn. He had on black trousers, suspenders and a white tuxedo suit—and he was angry.
“Déjà vu,” Kate said as she stood there, Jack beside her.
“I ought to arrest both of you!” the sheriff shouted when he was just a few feet away. “Lock you up and throw away the key.”
“Just so we’re together we can—” Jack began, but Kate elbowed him.
“We are so, so sorry,” Kate said. “So very, very sorry.”
Smiling, she took a step forward—then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell rather prettily onto the grass. Kate had fainted.
TWENTY-ONE
When Kate awoke, she was lying on a bed inside an ambulance and Jack was sitting beside her. He was jamming a long, stainless-steel stick inside his cast. She started to get up.
“No, you don’t. I was put in here to make sure you don’t move.”