Bree sucked in a hard breath. Her heart aching, she crouched down to the child’s level and took her gently by the shoulders. “We will never forget your mommy. I promise.”
With a quick nod, Kayla ducked out from under Bree’s arm and ran to the kitchen. The afternoon had been hard. They all needed a break. But building the collage had been cathartic. Bree turned to scan the photos. So many good moments captured. Should she be focused on those instead of searching for Erin’s killer?
She couldn’t.
She’d promised to take care of her little sister, and she’d failed. The least she could do was give her justice. After her killer was caught, Bree could move on.
She walked to the office and sat in her sister’s chair. During the tour of the church with Mrs. Peterson, Bree had felt like she’d missed something, but she couldn’t pin it down. Given time, her brain would sort it out. Sometimes her best solutions came to her while she wasn’t thinking about the problem. She opened her laptop and typed up her notes from the interview. Then she unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out Erin’s call logs and financial statements and began to review them. An hour later, her head ached, and she was still clueless.
She pulled the phone log back to the front of the pile. Did Erin receive a call from the prepaid cell the day she died? Bree skimmed the numbers with her finger. But it wasn’t the prepaid number that stopped her. She didn’t see any calls to or from that cell on that day.
Erin had received a call at six o’clock that evening. The number looked familiar. Bree checked the list of Erin’s known contacts. The call had been from Steph. Bree flipped back to her notes on their interview with Erin’s best friend. Steph had said she last talked to Erin when she left work around four, but that couldn’t be true.
Bree called Steph’s number, but the call went to voice mail, and she left a message.
Maybe there was a simple explanation, something so trivial she’d forgotten. But that didn’t feel right. Nothing was trivial on the day someone was murdered.
Did Steph lie?
She was Erin’s best friend. They’d worked together for years. Steph had been crying and nauseated when Bree and Matt had questioned her, and her husband had been with her. Maybe all those factors had thrown her off.
Bree drummed her fingers on the blotter.
Steph had no reason to lie to Bree.
Enough. Your brain is mush.
The afternoon funeral planning had drained her. She returned the papers to the drawer, locked it, and followed the smells of food to the kitchen, where dinner was ready.
Dana’s chicken parm and focaccia bread was a huge hit. Luke ate two helpings in fifteen minutes. After dinner, they watched a family movie. Then Bree put Kayla to bed. She locked her guns in her biometric handgun safe, with a fingerprint reader for quick access. She slid it under the bed next to Erin’s rifle safe. But if she was going to stay here, she’d have to find a more convenient location. She opened the drawer of the nightstand. Her safe would fit, but she’d have to clear out her sister’s books.
She glanced around the rest of the room. Regardless of whether she moved in here with the kids or they went to live with Craig, Erin’s belongings would need to be sorted. Kayla and Luke would want some of their mom’s things, and so would Bree. Maybe she could donate the rest.
The thought depressed her. Exhausted, Bree took a long, hot shower and dressed in flannel pajamas and a sweatshirt. Vader appeared out of nowhere, kneaded himself into a comfortable spot in the exact center of the bed, and stretched out. Bree lay down next to him and stroked his side. He purred. She petted him again, then a third time. He curled around her arm and bit her.
“I know,” she said to the cat. “I’m only allowed to pet your belly twice. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She pulled her arm away and examined the skin. He’d left a welt but hadn’t broken the skin. He flipped over and pretended to ignore her, but his tail flipped on the bed and one ear twitched every time she moved.
She glanced at her phone. Nine o’clock. Time for barn check. She trudged downstairs.
Dana was in the kitchen, reading a book and sipping a glass of red wine. “Do you want some?”
“No, thanks. I just came down to do barn check before I fall asleep.” Bree stepped her bare feet into a pair of boots, grabbed a coat, and went outside. The day had been warmer, and the snow had begun to melt, leaving the grass spongy. If the thaw continued, the horses could be turned out into the pasture. Bree made a mental note to fix the fence she’d landed on when chasing the intruder a few nights back.
She checked blankets and water buckets. Riot pawed at his straw. She stopped and rubbed his forehead, but instead of relaxing, the horse bobbed his head. “What’s wrong, boy? I know you’ve been cooped up, but it’s been too icy to let you out. You don’t want to break a leg. Another day or two above freezing and the pasture will be safe.”
The horse kicked his door.
A boot scraped, and Bree whirled around.
Craig walked into the barn and stopped just inside the door. He pulled his hands from the pockets of his blue parka. “What were you doing at the church today?”
“Excuse me?” Bree squared up to face him fully. “This is private property. You have no right to waltz in whenever you want.”
He’d already ambushed her once here. She should have been warier.
“I’ll do what I like.” He stepped into the light. His handsome face was hard, his eyes as cold as the snow outside. “I asked you a question.”
“You did.” Bree studied him. His temper was heating up. Her and Matt’s visit to the church had threatened him.
“I know you were there.”
She tilted her head.
“Mrs. Peterson gave me a detailed description. It was you.”
Bree didn’t deny it. “The church is a public building. Anyone can go inside.”
He stepped closer. “You listen to me. Stay away from Grace Community.”
“Why?” Bree leaned toward him. “What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing!” he snapped. “But I know you. You never liked me. You’ll do anything to keep me from having a good life.”
“Craig, I couldn’t care less about you.” Bree sized him up. He still had no control over his temper. Could he be goaded into saying more than he wanted? “You said the church provided you with a three-bedroom house, but you live in an apartment over the church’s garage. You realize each of the kids needs their own room, right?”
“That’s because I’m a bachelor. They provide housing according to need. As soon as I get custody, I’ll get an increased housing allowance and a larger residence.” Craig’s straight white teeth flashed as he nearly snarled. “I swear. If you screw up my job, you’ll never see Luke or Kayla again.”
Bree threw him a curveball. “Did you kill Erin?”
“W-what?” he stammered.
“You heard me.” Bree closed the gap between them. “Did you kill Erin?”
“No.” His head drew back. “What would make you think that?”
“Because I know you.”
He lifted his chin, taking fake offense. “I’m not the same man I was back then.”
“You came here to threaten me, so I’d say you’re exactly the same.”
Red flushed his cheeks. He raised a hand and stabbed a finger at her face. “Stay away from the church.”
“Or what?”
“You’ll be sorry.”
“Are you threatening me again?” Bree asked. She wished she had her cell phone so she could record this conversation, but she’d left it in the house.
“Yes.” Craig scanned her from head to toe. Her coat was open, and she was wearing her pajamas. He stepped closer, until she could smell the stale coffee on his breath. “You’re not wearing your weapon.”
“Do I need a weapon?” Bree asked.
“Maybe you should learn to be nice. Aren’t you afraid of being alone with a man you’ve antago
nized?”
“You?” Bree snorted. “Nope.”
He frowned, his gaze—and confidence—wavering. He gritted his teeth, visibly firming his resolve. “Maybe you should be.”
Bree would have no trouble introducing Craig to the ground, but maybe it would be even better to let him hit her. Then she could file a complaint and have him charged with assault. “Are you going to hit me like you hit Erin?”
His lip curled. Bree expected him to deny it, but he didn’t.
“You know what I like best about my job?” he asked. “I get to tell women they are required to obey their husbands. Good wives know their place.”
“How did that work with Erin? Oh, wait. You were never married.”
“You need someone to teach you respect.”
Fresh anger narrowed his eyes. His hand at his side curled into a fist, and his weight shifted. The movement was subtle, but Bree had been reading suspects’ body language for thirteen years. She was 90 percent certain Craig was going to take a swing at her.
Bree transferred her weight to the balls of her feet.
“Hey, pretty boy,” Dana called from the doorway. “Were you invited here?”
Craig spun around. “Who are you?”
“Someone who isn’t going to take your crap,” Dana answered. “Not that Bree would either.”
Bree’s feelings at Dana’s interruption were mixed. On one hand, Dana might have heard some of their conversation and could possibly testify that he’d threatened Bree. On the other, Craig wouldn’t hit Bree with a witness present.
Craig took a step toward Dana. “Look, bitch. We’re in the middle of a private conversation.”
Overconfident much? Dana had been a street cop and a detective for decades. She’d worked her way up in the department before it was normal to see a woman rising in the ranks. Bree and her generation owed their smoother career paths to women like Dana. She could certainly handle the likes of Craig.
“Such language for a minister.” Dana pulled her Glock from its holster and pointed it at Craig’s face. “Leave. Now. You are trespassing. I’d hate to mess up all that pretty hair with a great big hole.”
Looking down the barrel of the gun, Craig’s face went white. He backed up, raising his hands. “You can’t shoot me.”
“You already threatened Bree. You’re on private property. If I feel threatened, I am within my rights to defend myself.”
“That would never hold up in court.” Craig took a step back. “It would be your word against mine, and I’m a minister.”
“That’s funny. You think you’d be alive to go to court.” Dana sighed. “If I shoot you, the only person you’ll be giving testimony to is St. Peter at the pearly gates. And I don’t think he’s going to fall for your bullshit.” She moved sideways and inclined her head toward the exit. “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”
“This is outrageous,” Craig huffed. He sidled sideways, not turning his back on them, until he was outside. Then Bree heard his steps quicken until he was running. She moved to the door and watched him. Like on his previous visit, his car was parked halfway down the driveway. She didn’t take her eyes off his vehicle until the taillights disappeared down the dark road. “I want to add motion detectors on the driveway and security in the barn to the new alarm system.”
“I’ll call the alarm company tomorrow. Are you OK?” Dana asked. “I know you could have kicked his ass, but you shouldn’t have to. You have enough on your plate.”
“Actually, I was going to let him hit me and file assault charges.” Bree shrugged. “But I’m glad you stepped in. I don’t know how that would have played out in a custody battle. It would have been his word against mine, and he can be very convincing.”
Dana holstered her weapon and slung an arm around Bree’s shoulders. “In any case, I’m glad I saw him from the kitchen window and saved you a black eye.”
“Nah, he would have hit me somewhere it wouldn’t leave a mark. Did you really hear him threaten me?”
“I heard him say you’d be sorry and that someone needed to teach you respect,” Dana said.
“But not the part where he said if I showed up at the church, I’d never see the kids again?”
“No, sorry.”
They closed up the barn. As they walked up the back lawn, Bree summed up her conversation with Craig. “Could Craig’s motivation to take the kids be the increased housing allowance he’d get? If you add that to the social security survivor’s benefit he’d receive, those kids could increase his income considerably.”
“I don’t think ministers make big bucks, unless they’re the owners of a megachurch,” Dana said. “They’re not supposed to be in the business for the money. But, yes, I think that could be adequate motivation.”
In the kitchen, Bree shed her boots and coat. “A theory isn’t proof, and it’s all I have.”
Dana toed off her shoes.
No longer ready for sleep, Bree paced.
Dana picked up her wineglass and set it in the sink. “I’ll make tea.”
“I’m getting my notes.” Bree went to the office, unlocked the drawer, and grabbed her files. Back at the kitchen table, she began sorting her notes. “I need to review everything. I’m missing something.”
“We’ll do it together. Pass some to me.” Dana brought two cups of tea to the table, slid into a chair, and made a gimme gesture. “Maybe you need fresh eyes.”
Bree had written up careful notes on each interview and encounter—except the blatantly illegal ones. Dana reviewed each page and asked questions.
“Someone was blackmailing Erin,” Bree said.
“I agree.” Dana rubbed her eyes. “Let’s look at these dates on a calendar. Maybe we’ll see a pattern if we reorganize the data in a different way.”
“I have an idea.” Bree went to the office and grabbed the desk-size calendar blotter. Dana had written the calls and transactions in their own side-by-side lists. Bree transferred the data to the physical calendar, and it clicked into place—the idea Mrs. Peterson had jogged and Bree hadn’t been able to single out.
“That’s it. Erin was killed last Tuesday.” Bree flipped the calendar pages to October. “Erin received a call from the prepaid phone this Tuesday morning.” She tapped the day on the calendar. “That same afternoon, she withdrew four thousand dollars from her bank account.”
Bree checked the next two, more recent, withdrawals. “The next two large withdrawals also took place on Tuesdays. I haven’t written up my notes from the interview with the church secretary yet, but guess whose day off is Tuesday.”
Dana sat back. “Craig?”
“Bingo.”
They’d been focused on the withdrawals’ relationship to the prepaid cell calls, and they’d missed a simpler pattern.
Dana sighed. “Everything you have is circumstantial.”
“Cases have been won on circumstantial evidence.”
Dana lifted her brows. “Only with overwhelming amounts of it.”
“It’s better than nothing, which is what I had before.” Bree spotted a message on her phone. “Matt left a message while I was out in the barn.” She pressed “Play.”
His voice came out of the speaker on her phone. “Craig is at your place. I’m on my way.”
Bree called him back. “You don’t need to come over. He’s gone.”
“Is everything all right?” Matt sounded almost disappointed.
She could hear a vehicle engine in the background. “Yes. Dana and I handled him.”
“What happened?”
“He threw a hissy fit,” Bree said. “He knew you and I were at the church, and he wasn’t happy about it.” She told him about the Tuesday cash withdrawal connection. “Todd should bring Craig in for questioning.”
“Definitely.” Matt whistled. “That’s going to set off his temper.”
“That’s the plan.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The next morning, Bree walked out of C
owboy’s stall and tossed the currycomb into the bucket of grooming tools.
“Pumpkin is bored.” Standing on a step stool, Kayla brushed her pony’s back. Pumpkin stood in cross ties in the aisle. The pony’s head hung low, and one rear hoof was cocked on its toe. Pumpkin was dozing.
“Are you sure it’s Pumpkin who’s bored?” Bree sat on a bale of straw and picked up the stainless steel mug she’d left on the ledge.
Kayla swept the brush along the pony’s fat side. A cloud of dust billowed. “I haven’t been able to ride him all week.” She hopped off the stool and moved it out of the way to work on the pony’s legs. But Pumpkin was wearing his thick and shaggy winter coat. He looked like a bear. Nothing short of a thorough bath was going to get him really clean, and a bath wasn’t happening any time soon, not that the pony seemed to care.
“I’m hoping they can go out in the pasture today.” Bree walked to the doorway. “I’ll go check for ice.”
Most of the snow had melted. The area around the gate was muddy, but the grass was merely soggy. Bree ducked back into the barn. Finishing the last of her coffee, she left the mug on the ledge. “I’m going to fix a section of broken fencing. Then we can turn them out for a few hours.”
“Can I ride?”
“Sure.”
“Yay.” Kayla patted her pony and went into the tack room.
Bree had left a message for Todd about Craig’s visit the previous night. But the chief deputy hadn’t called back yet. Bree had called the station. The deputy who had answered the phone said Todd wasn’t in. Steph hadn’t returned Bree’s call either. Until someone got back to her, Bree was out of leads.
Today was Sunday. She would spend the day at home, hanging out with the kids and writing her sister’s eulogy. Tomorrow, she’d start fresh.
Tomorrow, her sister would be dead for six days.
She let the wave of grief roll over her. Then she left the barn and headed to the garage. She found a small roll of wire, a toolbox, and leather gloves. The grass squished under her boots as she trudged out to the broken section of fence. She removed the broken wire, examined the adjacent fencing, and fastened a new piece of wire as best as she could. She was no handyman, but it held when she pulled on it.
CROSS HER HEART Page 22
