CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The gate at Morimer’s estate opened before Connor reached the call box.
That bothered him more than if they had made him wait.
A black sedan sat just inside the entrance, angled beneath the trees. Two men stood in front of it, both familiar from his first visit. The bald one lifted a hand, palm out, and Connor brought the SUV to a stop with the driver’s window down.
“Afternoon, Sheriff.”
“Where is she?”
“Mr. Morimer will explain.”
“I asked where she is.”
The man’s face did not change. “And I gave the answer I’m authorized to give.”
Connor looked past him to the road climbing toward the house. “Is she hurt?”
The second man came to the window. “Weapon, phone, and radio.”
Connor stared at him.
“You know the rules.”
“I’m here to collect a suspect in an active homicide investigation.”
“You’re here because Mr. Morimer invited you. Your predecessor understood how this works in Harlan County, you need to learn fast.”
Connor’s hand tightened on the wheel. He could still turn around. Call Selena. Bring half the county to the gate and let Morimer turn it into a siege of procedure, denial, and lawyers.
Marlene was somewhere behind those walls.
Connor unfastened his belt, removed his sidearm, and handed it over grip first. The second man took it, checked it, then nodded toward the radio clipped to Connor’s shoulder.
“That, too.”
“You planning to answer my calls for me?”
“No.”
Connor unclipped the radio and gave it over, along with his cell phone. The loss of both made him feel a little naked considering the circumstances. A sheriff without a gun still had authority. A sheriff without communication had no safety net.
The bald man stepped back. “Drive up. Park where you did before.”
The gate opened fully.
Connor drove through, feeling the walls close behind him.
The white house waited on the hill, too bright under the sun.
Its broad porches, tall windows, and trimmed lawns gave the place the look of a family estate, but Connor had never been able to look at it without thinking of the men who vanished into its outbuildings, the trucks that moved at night, and the favors collected in quiet rooms.
A man waited at the front steps when Connor parked.
“Mr. Morimer’s on the back porch.”
“Of course he is.”
Connor got out. Nobody offered to search him this time. They already had what mattered.
Inside, the house stayed cool and silent. The same polished wood. The same expensive flowers. The same feeling that every surface had been chosen by someone who expected guests to notice and fear making a mark.
Connor followed the guard through the hall and onto the rear porch.
Morimer sat in his wicker chair beneath the ceiling fan, pale suit immaculate, lemonade at his elbow.
A plate of sliced peaches rested on the table.
Across from him sat Marlene Schmidt. He did not know how to feel when he saw her.
Seeing the suspected murderer of his friend.
Victor’s own wife. And yet Connor had known Marlene for years.
She looked so scared. So small. He could not help but feel protective of her, even after everything.
Connor’s first breath came out harder than he expected.
Marlene wore a gray sweater, one sleeve torn and stained with leaf mold.
Her hair had been brushed back, though strands had escaped around her face.
A small plate rested on her lap. She held a fork in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the other.
Whatever else she was, prisoner or guest, Morimer had made sure she looked calm by the time Connor arrived.
Marlene stood too quickly. “Connor.”
He crossed the porch toward her. “Did he hurt you?”
Morimer clicked his tongue. “How uncouth, Sheriff. A guest sits on my porch, drinks my lemonade, and eats my food, yet you assume brutality.”
Connor kept his eyes on Marlene. “Did anyone hurt you?”
“No.” Her voice trembled. “They scared me half to death when they found me, but no. Nobody hurt me.”
“Where did they find you?”
Morimer picked up his glass. “An old shed near the Brackett property. Technically, she was trespassing.”
“I was hiding,” Marlene said. “I didn’t know where I was.”
“You knew enough to run,” Connor said.
Her face twisted. “I panicked.”
“You hit Selena with a lamp.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her, Connor. I was so scared. She had a gun and I panicked! I thought she was going to kill me!”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
Marlene looked down at the porch boards. “Is she okay?”
“She’ll live.”
Tears filled Marlene’s eyes, but Connor could not tell if they came from guilt, fear, or relief.
Maybe all three. He had known her for years.
School fundraisers. Church suppers. Victor making jokes while she rolled her eyes.
The ordinary life of a woman who should have been planning a funeral, not sitting on a crime lord’s porch with a fork in her hand.
Morimer indicated the empty chair beside Connor. “Sit.”
Connor remained standing. “There’s a manhunt across the county for her.”
“So, I gathered.”
“I need to take her in.”
“In time.”
“Now.”
Morimer smiled faintly. “Your urgency is understandable. It is also impolite. The county may be yours, but this house is mine.”
Connor leaned both hands on the table. “You called me.”
“I did, as a favor since we now have an understanding.”
“There’s no understanding, Morimer.”
The guard by the door shifted. Morimer lifted two fingers, and the man went still.
Marlene sat again, her plate trembling in her lap.
Connor softened his voice without taking his attention off Morimer. “Marlene, I need you to tell me the truth.”
“I... I will.”
“Did you kill Victor?”
Her eyes lifted to his. “Do you think I did?”
“It doesn’t look good,” Connor said. “But I pray there’s a reason for all of this that doesn’t end with you in a prison for the rest of your life.”
Morimer’s smile deepened, as if he enjoyed that answer more than he should.
Connor pulled the other chair back and sat, putting himself across from Marlene. “But you have to give me something. Selena has evidence you lied. You ran. You attacked her. You were in town when you said you were three hours away. Right now, that looks bad enough that I can’t protect you from it.”
“I didn’t ask you to protect me.”
“No, but Victor would have. He would have wanted me to.”
Marlene closed her eyes. A tear slid down her cheek.
Connor let the name do its work.
When she opened her eyes again, the first panic had softened into something hollow.
“I didn’t kill him. I loved him!”
“Then tell me what happened.”
“I took the kids to my mother’s like I said. That part was true. I got them settled. We had dinner. Mom asked why I kept checking my phone, and I told her Victor had some work thing.”
“What time did you leave to come back to Elmsview?”
“Just after eight.”
“Your mother knew?”
“No. She fell asleep with the kids watching a movie.”
Connor took that in. “Three-hour drive back.”
“Less if you drive angry.”
“Were you angry?”
Marlene gave a broken laugh. “Yes.”
“Because of the affair?”
Her hand tightened around the fork.
Morimer’s eyes sharpened, but he said nothing.
Connor leaned closer. “Marlene.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Because of the affair.”
“Who was Victor having an affair with?”
She pressed her lips together.
“Marlene, if you keep protecting whoever it was, you may go to prison for murder.”
“I’m not protecting anyone.”
“Then who?”
The fork clattered onto the plate. Marlene wiped at her face with the heel of one hand.
“Janet Holt.”
For a second, Connor thought he had misheard.
“Janet?”
“Sandra’s sister,” Marlene said.
A direct connection between Warren and Victor.
“I know who Janet is.”
“I found messages months ago on his socials. Not enough to prove anything. Victor said I was being paranoid. He said she was helping with some community fundraising thing and I’d turned it ugly in my head.” Marlene shook her head. “I wanted to believe him. God help me, I wanted to.”
Connor pictured Janet Holt standing beside Sandra after Warren died. Quiet, attentive, near enough to touch. Renee on Sandra’s other side. Two women holding the widow steady.
Holding her, or steering her?
Marlene kept talking. “Then I discovered he had a hidden phone. A cell phone that he used in another name, but he told me it was just a work phone. He lied so smoothly I started wondering if I was losing my mind.”
“What did you plan to do when you came back?”
“Catch him. That’s all.” Her voice rose. “I wanted to see it. I wanted proof, because if I had proof, he couldn’t make me feel crazy anymore.”
“Did you go home first?”
“I drove past. His truck was there. Lights were on.”
“What time?”
“Around eleven-thirty. Maybe a little after.”
“Did you go inside?”
Marlene looked at Morimer, then back at Connor. “Yes.”
Connor’s jaw tightened. “You told everyone you stayed at your mother’s.”
“I know.”
“What did you find?”
She set the plate on the table with shaking hands. “The television was loud. Even louder than usual. I remember thinking he’d fallen asleep watching some old movie. I called his name from the hall, but he didn’t answer.”
Connor saw the room again. Victor in the armchair. The television volume raised. Blood on fabric.
Marlene swallowed hard and sobbed. “Then... Then I saw him. Blood...”
“Was anyone else there?”
“No. I swear.”
“Was the door locked?”
“No.”
“Did you touch anything?”
“I touched him.” Her face crumpled. “I thought maybe he was still alive. There was blood. So much blood. I put my hand on his shoulder and then I saw his face.”
Connor looked down at the table.
“What then?”
“I ran.”
“Why not call 911?”
"Because he was dead. And I wasn't supposed to be there because I'd lied to everyone. Because I thought if people knew I'd come back to catch him with another woman, they'd think exactly what you're all thinking now."
“That you killed him.”
“Yes.”
“So you drove back to your mother’s?”
“I drove back. I got there before dawn. Mom was asleep on the couch. The kids were asleep. I went to the bathroom and threw up.”
“Did your mother see you come back?”
“No.”
“Did Amanda Lee know?”
Marlene’s eyes flicked away.
“She knew I was going. I didn’t tell her what I found.”
Morimer finally spoke. “This is entertaining! Fear makes poor counsel.”
Connor turned on him. “You stay out of this.”
One of the goons stepped forward, but Morimer waved him back with a smile. “I was commenting on human nature, Sheriff.”
“You traffic in people’s vulnerabilities,” said Connor.
“Yes, just like yours.”
Connor held Morimer’s gaze. A reminder sat behind the old man’s smile. Six thousand dollars. A sheriff crossing a line. A favor that had already begun growing roots.
Marlene looked between them. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” Connor said.
Morimer chuckled softly.
“Don’t push it, Morimer. I have a connection between you and Warren Holt. That might be enough to turn this place over.”
He grinned. “We both know you’ll never do that. You have too much to lose, now.”
Connor stood. “Marlene, you’re coming with me.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Yes, I’ll read you your rights once we’re at the car.”
“Will Selena be there?”
“At the station.”
Fear moved across Marlene’s face. “She’ll think I’m lying.”
“Then don’t. Tell the truth. If you’re not the killer, we need to find out who is.”
Morimer lifted his glass. “How refreshing. A lawman endorsing honesty.”
Connor looked toward the trees beyond the porch, but his mind had gone elsewhere.
Janet Holt.
Sandra Holt’s sister.
Victor’s affair.
Warren Holt dead at the lodge.
Sandra grieving with Janet on one side and Renee on the other.
Connor’s skin prickled despite the warm porch.
Marlene watched him. “Connor?”
He looked at her, then at Morimer.
The old man’s smile had faded a fraction. He had noticed the change.
Connor picked up his hat from the table, though he did not remember putting it there.
“I need my radio,” he said.
Morimer stood slowly. “You can have it once you leave. But this won’t be the last time we speak.” Morimer smiled. Connor did not answer. The debt was already poisonous, and pretending otherwise would not make it disappear.
Connor heard Marlene’s chair scrape behind him. But now his mind was full of explanations.
Janet connected Victor to Sandra. Sandra connected back to Warren. And Renee had been close enough to both widows to know what each of them was carrying.
By the time Connor reached the porch steps with Marlene next to him, the shape of it all had locked into place.
He knew who might be able to tell him the truth.