When a Secret Kills

by Lynette Eason

  “What is it?”

  She jerked and her face smoothed. “Nothing.”

  Carmen let out a sigh. “It’s probably those letters he’s been getting and hiding in his desk drawer.”

  His aunt’s face suddenly paled. Colton grabbed her arm and led her to a nearby chair as she swayed. She sank into it, never taking her eyes from her daughter. “Carmen, what are you talking about?”

  The girl shrugged. “I went looking for some cash so I picked the lock on his desk.” Something flickered in her eyes. “I found the letters in an envelope. I think he’s stressed about those threats.”

  “They were threats?” Colton asked.

  “Yeah. Apparently my dad did something he shouldn’t have and someone’s threatening to tell.”

  Colton drilled his aunt with a look. “I need to see those letters ASAP.”

  She looked away.

  He sank to his haunches in front of her. “Did you know about those letters?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I . . . I just found them the other day.” She shot a look at Carmen. “Carmen’s not the only one who knows how to snoop.” She bit her lip, then firmed her jaw and met his gaze. “But I had to know why he was being so secretive. He kept locking himself away in that office and I—” She broke off and swallowed hard.

  “You what?” Colton asked, keeping his voice low.

  Her eyes shot to Carmen’s, then slammed back into his. “I thought he was having an affair.”

  Carmen snorted and shook her head. “Figures.”

  At Colton’s sharply indrawn breath, she cast her eyes to the left, then the right, and lowered her voice even more. “Well, he wasn’t, but what else was I supposed to think? The secretive phone calls, the dash to the mailbox, the working at home when he would usually be at his office? I didn’t know what to think, so I searched his desk and found them.”

  “What do they say?” He looked between his cousin and his aunt, waiting for one of them to tell him.

  His aunt’s eyes darted. “Not here. Come to the house later after Frank’s stable and I’ll show you. You’re a detective. Maybe you can get to the bottom of it.”

  “Fine.”

  Colton gestured to the nearby waiting room. “Do you want some coffee?”

  “No, not from this place.” She gave a delicate shudder.

  A toddler got away from his mother and ran on unsteady legs to fall at their feet. Before Colton could react, his aunt swooped down and lifted the little one up. She held him until the weary woman could claim him, and Colton almost smiled.

  A snob to the core with a heart of gold.

  Carmen had settled into a nearby chair and shoved the earbuds to her iPod into her ears. Already, the whole idea of her father possibly dying and the threatening letters was being drowned out by whatever she listened to. She had her eyes closed, head back against the wall.

  A doctor appeared from the hall, his eyes scanning the waiting area until they landed on Elizabeth and Colton. Colton touched his aunt’s arm and nodded. She rose and approached the man in green scrubs, blue booties, and white lab coat. Carmen stayed tuned out and Colton left her that way. He followed a few steps behind his aunt. The doctor didn’t look like he had tragic news to deliver.

  As they shook hands, the man said, “I’m Dr. Cordell, Senator Hoffman’s cardiologist.”

  “How is he?” his aunt asked.

  The door swooshed open and Colton sighed when he saw the media headed their way. “Is there someplace private we can talk?”

  He didn’t have to ask twice. Colton got Carmen’s attention and motioned for her to follow. She gave a sigh and got to her feet. Dr. Cordell led them down the hall to a small room with several chairs. They each took one and the doctor said, “Right now, he’s stable. The emergency surgery went well, but he’s had another heart attack. I’ve got his chart from the one he had ten years ago. That one was a warning. This one is a bit more serious.”

  “How serious?”

  “He’s going to have to take it easy. Get rid of some of the stress in his life.”

  Elizabeth raised a delicate brow. “Good luck with that.”

  “He’s got to. Or he’s going to die.”

  Colton looked at the floor and reached up to rub the back of his neck. He felt a twinge of guilt. Had his accusations at lunch caused the heart attack? And if he was arrested for murder . . . Colton felt sick.

  And now he’d learned his uncle had been receiving mysterious letters. “We’ll talk to him.”

  A knock on the door brought his head around to see his mother enter the room. His father followed two steps behind. Elliott Darwin slipped in behind them. His mother walked over and gave him her “I’m-happy-to-see-you-even-though-you’ve-disappointed-us-terribly” hug. A weak squeeze with a sad look that was supposed to send him into throes of guilt. Fortunately, it didn’t work anymore.

  He kissed her forehead. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hello.” She stepped back.

  Colton’s father shook his hand. “Colton.” Then turned to the doctor. “I’m Zachary Brady. This is my wife, Sonya. How is he?”

  Colton sighed. At least he’d gotten a handshake.

  The doctor repeated his earlier statements, then stood. “I’ve got to get back in there. He’ll be in ICU for at least the next forty-eight hours and will be in an induced coma for now. I’ll have another update for you soon.”

  Colton said, “I’ve got to get back to work. Keep me updated on Uncle Frank, will you?”

  His aunt nodded. “I will.”

  Colton’s phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket as he started to leave the room.

  “Colton, wait—” At his mother’s voice, he turned.

  “Let the boy go, Sonya,” his father huffed. “You heard him. He has to get back to work.”

  His mother wilted against the chair, her defeated posture rousing his ire toward his father. But he knew if he said anything, it would just make the situation worse. “I’ll talk to you later, Mom.”

  She nodded and Colton left. He’d missed the call from his captain. He hit speed dial. The man answered with a gruff, “Where are you?”

  “At the hospital. My uncle had a heart attack while we were eating lunch.”

  Captain Murdoch’s tone changed. “Oh hey, sorry about that. He going to make it?”

  “He’s stable right now. What do you have for me?”

  “A court order and the widow’s agreement to exhume the governor’s body.”

  Colton sucked in a deep breath. “All right.” He paused.

  “What is it, Brady?”

  “I think it’s time I recused myself from this investigation.”

  “I see. Who’s the best person to take it over?”

  “Hunter Graham.”

  “I’ll call him.”

  31

  Jillian sat in the car beside Mrs. Martin as Governor Martin’s body was exhumed. “I’m sorry,” she said without taking her eyes from the proceedings.

  Mrs. Martin turned quizzical eyes toward Jillian. “Whatever do you have to be sorry for?”

  With a small shrug, Jillian said, “This. Everything.”

  Mrs. Martin took a deep breath and turned to watch the coffin slowly emerge from its resting place. “It’s time for the truth to come to light. Harrison was very much about justice. This is a good thing, I promise you.” She gave Jillian a small smile. “Why do you think I had him interred in a climate-controlled area? I prayed for this day to come. If his body holds any evidence, your ME should be able to find it.” The whir of the machine stopped and everyone went silent. A moment of respect for the man and his wife.

  Workers moved the coffin into the waiting hearse. Security was tight and numerous around the area.

  Jillian asked, “Do you plan to come to the morgue?”

  “No. I don’t suppose I will. I’ve signed all the papers.” She let her gaze fall on the disappearing hearse.
“Harrison’s not in that box.”

  “No, ma’am, I know he’s not.”

  “God had a reason for allowing Harrison to die when he did. I don’t know what it was and I’ve managed to gain peace with that over the years. But,” she drew in a deep breath, “if you can prove he wasn’t killed in a car wreck, I think that would add a new layer of peace. You know what I mean?”

  “I know.”

  The woman offered a gentle smile and Jillian felt her throat clog as she thought about the families affected by that night ten years ago. Good families. God-fearing and loving people who probably hadn’t done anything to hurt anyone.

  She straightened her spine and firmed her jaw as Colton and Hunter walked toward them.

  She’d made the right decision.

  5:15 PM

  Jillian stared out the window and watched the hearse leave, escorted by several police cruisers. Now that it was over, she was stunned by how fast it had happened.

  “You all right?” Colton asked as he slid into the seat beside her and shut the door.

  She shrugged. “Antsy. Anxious. Anticipating.”

  “You got a thing for A words today?”

  “When they’re A-ccurate.”

  He gave a mock wince and she found a small smile on her lips as she buckled her seatbelt. Within twenty minutes they were pulling up to the morgue entrance. Blake and Colton never dropped their guard as they ushered her in. Hunter and Katie pulled up the rear.

  Jillian allowed herself to be escorted through a door that reminded her of a garage door. When it settled closed behind them, Serena stepped around the corner and motioned them back. The coffin rolled in on the gurney and the team opened the lid. Jillian held her breath while Serena looked inside. She grimaced. “He didn’t die a pleasant death, did he?” She continued her perusal. “I will say as bad as he’s burned, he’s very well preserved.”

  “His wife did that on purpose.” Jillian looked at Colton. “She knew his death wasn’t an accident so she put him in a climate-controlled grave.”

  “How very insightful. Lucky for us.”

  He paused as he thought and watched Serena. “When she got the report from Gerald that there was no sign of foul play, she probably didn’t know what to do after that. She trusted him—it would be hard to question his findings.”

  “So she prayed and waited.”

  He looked at her. “She didn’t know it at the time, but she was waiting for you to come home.”

  “Maybe.”

  After Serena and her assistant, with the help of two other morgue workers, got Governor Martin onto the table, she went to work. Jillian watched her make the Y-incision over the previous one. Her stomach churned. Not at the sight of the autopsy, but at the thought of this man being murdered and his family being threatened. Would justice finally be done?

  Please, Lord, Jillian whispered her silent prayer.

  She heard Colton’s phone buzz. He looked at it and said, “My aunt is calling. I’m just going to step outside and see what she needs.”

  She turned pained eyes on him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Yeah. Me too. Especially since it looks like you’re right about everything.”

  “I wish I wasn’t.”

  His jaw clamped. “What matters is the truth.” He nodded toward Governor Martin’s body. “Truth and justice for him. For all the people involved—”

  “Well, I can tell you one more thing,” Serena said.

  Jillian whipped her head around. “What?”

  Even Colton tensed and ignored his still-buzzing phone. Serena looked up over her mask. “I haven’t examined his head yet—he may have died from blunt force trauma as the original report states, but he was also shot.” A clink sounded. “And there’s the bullet.”

  Jillian gasped, felt her knees buckle. Colton’s strong hand gripped her arm. She caught herself and looked up into his face. Now that the truth stared him in the eye, he was devastated.

  And she’d caused that.

  “Something else is pretty interesting,” Serena went on with a sympathetic glance in Colton’s direction. To Jillian she said, “You said the senator pulled the gun and shot the governor. Was the governor facing him? Or leaving the room?”

  Jillian frowned. “Facing him. He shot him in the chest.”

  Serena’s glance went back to the body, then to Colton and Jillian. “I thought that’s what you said.” She pushed her mask up and bit her lip. Worry danced in her pretty dark eyes.

  “What is it, Serena?”

  “That’s not what happened, according to the governor here.”

  Stunned, Jillian asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, this man was shot in the back.”

  32

  Frank opened his eyes into a squint and tried to figure out where he was. An annoying beeping echoed in his left ear. Disinfectant teased his nose.

  A hospital.

  What happened?

  He grunted and tried to move.

  “He’s coming around, Doctor.”

  Frank blinked again, but his eyes wouldn’t stay open.

  “Frank, Senator Hoffman, can you hear me? You had a heart attack. You’ve had surgery. We’ve taken you off the respirator and you’re breathing on your own.”

  Memories swept over him; the stress returned. Frank winced and decided he liked the blackness better. No pain, no thoughts, no dead governor to haunt him.

  The doctors and nurses fussed over him and he just wanted them to go away and let him think. He’d had a heart attack and surgery. Well, what did he expect? Colton’s accusations from their lunch together swept to the surface. Cold fear surged. He needed to talk to Elliott. A sharp stab of pain hit him in the chest and he gasped.

  “Just a moment, sir. I’ve got something for that pain, right here. Do you feel any nausea?”

  Did he? “No.”

  “Good. And here you go.” The nurse injected something into the port and Frank felt himself swimming off again. But first he had to know.

  “What’s today?” he heard his voice croak.

  “Thursday. You came in earlier and went immediately to surgery.”

  Thursday. And Saturday was the reunion. He drifted, welcoming the darkness, the escape from the weariness that had become his life. No, he had a good life. A great life. One where Jillian could point her finger and declare him a murderer. Panic set in. Suffocating him.

  He couldn’t let that happen.

  Only he was trapped in a body that had betrayed him.

  Think!

  But he couldn’t.

  The drugs worked fast and soon he returned to the blackness.

  Colton stood in the three-car garage and stared at his uncle’s boat. Jillian and Hunter stood beside him. He’d thought about leaving her to ride back to the hotel with Blake, but he felt better off knowing she was with him.

  One fact remained. His uncle was unconscious in the hospital. He wouldn’t be issuing any murderous orders today. If that’s what he’d been doing. And staring at the boat, he now had no more doubts, no rationalizations, excuses . . . nothing.

  The smell of fresh paint assaulted him and sadness nearly crippled him. He looked at Hunter. “Guess you need to get a sample of that paint to compare to the cloth that Rick has.”

  “Yeah.” Hunter’s voice was subdued, but he’d come prepared. He pulled out a small camera and took pictures. Once he finished with the pictures, he took out a tool and started scraping the paint into a small vial. “Want me to call Rick and have him come haul the boat?”

  “Yes. He’ll need to go over it and see if there’s anything in there that can connect it with Serena’s house bomb.” Colton felt a muscle jumping in his jaw. He stood back and let Hunter do all the work. No sense in him messing up the investigation. He couldn’t work this anymore. At least not in an official capacity. Hunter and Dominic would have to keep him informed. The fact grated, but it had to be that way. Jillian hadn’t said a word since they’d arrived to fi
nd the boat in the garage.

  And yet, he reminded himself, none of the evidence pointed to his uncle. Not yet.

  If the paint on the boat came back a match to the paint on the cloth, then yes, there were some serious questions about his uncle’s involvement in the attempts on Jillian’s life.

  Hunter made the call to Rick. When he hung up, the three of them turned to find Ian watching from the door. “Everything all right, Colton?”

  “We’re going to find that out, Ian.” He took a deep breath. “Hunter’s gotten a warrant. Someone is going to come get the boat. It’s evidence in a case. Hunter’s going to stay with the boat until it’s hauled away.”

  Ian lifted a brow and nodded without saying anything else, but Colton could read the questions and concern in the man’s eyes. Unfortunately, Colton couldn’t answer them right now.

  While Hunter waited with the boat, Colton took Jillian by the arm and entered the house. He made his way through the sunroom, then out onto the porch where Jillian had said his uncle had murdered a man. He felt her stiffen and draw in a harsh breath. “Are you all right?”

  “No.”

  Her strangled answer worried him. “You want to leave?”

  “Yes. No.”

  “Okay.”

  “Just let me stand here a minute.” He watched her glance toward the hall in the direction of his uncle’s office, then back to the sunporch. “It’s just like I remember.”

  He tried to imagine the scenario like she’d originally described, but couldn’t picture it. Serena’s revelation that the governor had definitely not died in a car wreck but had indeed been shot had shaken him. The fact he’d been shot in the back had surprised them all.

  That was a fact that didn’t jibe with Jillian’s story.

  So what did he believe?

  He could hear his aunt talking on the phone in the den, so he waited. He did not want to tell her everything he was going to have to tell her.

  He waited five minutes. Then ten. Finally, he heard her footsteps coming toward him. “He’s still unconscious,” his aunt said from the doorway.

  Colton turned and nodded. He’d expected as much.

  His aunt eyed Jillian curiously. “Hello.”