A Willing Murder (Medlar Mystery 1)

“When did you change to our side?”

“When I saw Dan’s note. His mom and I are friends. I know the problems she’s had with his schooling and he couldn’t have written that.” The sheriff took a breath. “When I saw that boy hanging there—” He looked to the side but they could see the tears in his eyes. Sheriff Flynn turned back and looked at Sara. “You got a cam

era with you?”

“Of course.”

“It have video on it?”

“Four-K.”

“I want opening this recorded.”

“We couldn’t find a key,” Jack said, “so we’re going to need a locksmith.”

Sheriff Flynn looked at him. “You’re Roy Wyatt’s son and there’s a lock you can’t open? He didn’t teach you anything?”

“I don’t know how to—” Jack began, then sighed. “Get me some paper clips.”

Jack opened the lock while Kate got the camera bag out of the truck. They turned on every light available before Sara began recording the opening.

Inside was everything they’d hoped for: a girl’s diary that professed her love to be greater than anyone else had ever experienced. There were four photos of her boyfriend. Alastair Stewart was asleep in each of them, his head resting against a car seat.

Kate sat down on a wooden chair hard. Sara sat beside her and took her niece’s hand.

Kate’s voice was soft. “I know how charming Alastair can be. He says what you want to hear. He asked me about my plans for the future, the children I want, my dream job.” Her head came up. “He told me I needed to put on weight, then fed me chocolate.” She looked up at Jack, still standing there with the photos spread out on the desk. She expected him to say something snarky but he didn’t.

“I’m glad he was nice to you,” Jack said. “And if it helps any, he had me drooling over houses he wanted to buy. He suckered all of us in.”

“Not me,” Sara said. “I never thought he was good enough for my Kate.”

She smiled at her aunt. “Thank—”

Sheriff Flynn’s face was hard-looking. “I hate to interrupt your romantic ditherings, but none of this means anything.”

They looked at him in confusion.

“The only ‘crime’ this shows is that Alastair Stewart was this girl’s love interest. She wrote about him, fantasized about him. She took photos of him while he was sleeping. The truth is that she could have stuck her camera in a car window when he was asleep after a basketball game.”

Jack lifted a cheap locket on a chain with his gloved index finger. “Think there are fingerprints on this?”

Sheriff Flynn raised his hands. “I hope so. Pray that there are. But then what? He’ll say he was in love with a girl and they kept it a secret because of her mother. That’s not a crime.”

“And his mother,” Sara said. “Noreen wouldn’t like her precious son dating Cheryl.”

“A true Romeo and Juliet story,” the sheriff said. “And that’s all it is.”

“You are going to arrest him, aren’t you?” Kate asked. “Even if he is a Stewart?”

“Definitely,” Sheriff Flynn said. “Stewarts should uphold the image. Impregnating a girl from the wrong side of town—” He looked at Sara. “Sorry, but it’s true. I know he exploited that poor girl, used her, but that’s not against the law. I have no proof that he did anything else.”

“He killed them.” Jack’s voice was low.

“Maybe,” the sheriff said. “But I don’t know that. I need to question Alastair first. The only way he’ll reveal anything is if he’s trying to talk his way out of a murder charge.”

He went to the door. “I want all of you to stop searching this out. I’ve got enough to reopen the case now, so the professionals will take over.”

“They need to look into Evan’s and Mrs. Ellerbee’s deaths,” Sara said.