Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Jo sat in her car and watched as Derek McDaniels stood by his father’s grave . He’d been there the whole time she’d been talking to Sam, and she was starting to wonder how long he might linger. She took out her phone and snapped a few pictures of him.
When Derek finally turned and walked toward his car, Jo’s pulse quickened. As much as she’d told herself that grief was messy and complicated, something about the way Derek hung back, staring at the grave like it held more secrets than closure, made her uneasy.
As Derek’s taillights flickered on and his car rolled away from the cemetery, Jo shifted her car into drive, keeping a safe distance as she followed him.
The winter air was crisp, and the early-morning sun struggled to break through the gray clouds that hung over White Rock. Jo’s breath fogged the windshield for a moment before the defroster kicked in. She tightened her grip on the wheel, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Where are you going, Derek?
Derek took a turn, heading out of town. Where in the world was he going?
She’d hoped she could catch Derek visiting a pawn shop and catch him with the bronze statue. But this road led away from the shops… and toward Thorne Construction.
Derek pulled into the dusty Thorne Industries construction site sprawled across the horizon like a half-finished fortress—steel beams reaching skyward, piles of gravel and lumber scattered like discarded toys.
Jo pulled into a dirt side road, parking behind thick evergreen shrubs. She could peek through the leaves and see Derek, but hopefully, no one could see her car.
Derek himself stepped out of the car, smoothing his tie as he scanned the area. Nervous, Jo thought. He looked like a man who didn’t belong and who knew it.
Her gaze shifted to the far side of the lot. There was Beryl Thorne, hard hat perched on her head. She stood near a stack of steel beams, talking to a man Jo recognized immediately: Desmond Griggs.
Jo’s jaw tightened. Of course Beryl would have Griggs working for her. One of them was just as shady as the other, and Beryl had a reputation for keeping her hands clean by letting others do the digging.
Derek made his way toward them, his steps hesitant. Jo raised her phone, snapping a photo as he approached.
Beryl greeted Derek with a firm handshake, all business. Jo couldn’t make out their words, but the body language said plenty. Derek was deferential, almost anxious, while Beryl exuded her usual icy confidence.
Jo shifted slightly, angling for a better view. Griggs stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the interaction like a guard dog. He said something that made Derek glance his way, his expression tightening. Jo captured the moment, the three of them framed together in the fading light.
Derek shook his head. Beryl gestured with her hands. Whatever they were discussing, it didn’t seem very friendly.
Derek headed back to his car. Griggs and Beryl exchanged a few final words before splitting up. Griggs moved toward the workers. Beryl walked back to her trailer.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. Sam.
She hesitated, glancing back at the site. There was no sign anyone had noticed her, but she wasn’t about to risk it. She answered quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Hi… sounds like you’re up to something?” Sam said.
“Aren’t I always? I just saw something odd. Check your phone in about ten seconds.”
Before he could press further, Jo hung up and sent him the photos. Then she started the car and headed toward town. She had an idea about how to prove that Derek McDaniels had been lying to them all along.
Jo’s pulse quickened as she stepped into Clara Hartwell’s cluttered office, the dim light from the single desk lamp casting long shadows on the walls.
Maps, blueprints, and rolled-up surveys crowded the space, giving it an air of controlled chaos.
The faint smell of old paper and coffee grounds lingered in the air.
Previously, Clara had said that Derek came to the office before his father died, but she’d never shown her a picture of him to be certain. Now, she could get that certainty.
Clara, seated behind her desk and squinting at a handwritten ledger, looked up, startled but composed. “Oh, Sergeant Harris. Back again?”
Jo forced a small smile, tapping her phone to wake the screen. “I need you to take a look at something.” She leaned across the desk, holding out the photo she’d snapped at the construction site. “Is this the man that came in last week about the McDaniels blueprints? Garvin’s son?”
Clara leaned forward, her reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose. She studied the image, her eyes narrowing as recognition dawned. “That’s him,” she said, her tone definitive.
Jo felt a surge of vindication. Derek. She knew he was lying, and now she had proof.
“You’re sure?” Jo pressed, her eyes locked on Clara.
Clara nodded, her hand drifting toward the desk to steady herself. “Yes, that’s the man who came in asking about the blueprints for Garvin’s property.”
Jo exhaled slowly, satisfaction spreading through her chest. She straightened, pulling the phone back and locking the screen. “Thank you, Ms. Hartwell. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Always happy to assist,” Clara said, though her expression was tinged with unease.
Jo didn’t notice. Her thoughts were already miles ahead, crafting her next steps.
Outside, the late-afternoon light was already dimming, casting long shadows across the parking lot as Jo leaned against her car. The cool air bit at her skin, but she barely felt it. She tapped Sam’s number on her phone, her other hand gripping the car door.
Sam picked up on the second ring. “What’s up?”
“Just left Clara Hartwell’s office with that photo I took,” Jo said, unable to keep the edge of triumph out of her voice. “She confirmed it. Derek was the one asking about the blueprints.”
There was a pause, then Sam’s voice came through, steady and cautious. “Good work. But you know I can’t use that. You’re on leave. I’ll need to follow up and get her statement myself.”
Jo sighed, frustration creeping into her tone. “I know. But you’d better move fast. Derek’s lying, Sam. He’s in this up to his neck.”
“We’ll soon find out. I happen to have him coming in in about ten minutes,” Sam said.
“Excellent. Hopefully, you can get the truth out of him.”
Sliding into the driver’s seat, Jo placed her phone in the console and stared out the windshield, the weight of the case pressing down on her.
She should feel triumphant. This was a solid lead, something Sam could use to pressure Derek. But the satisfaction was dulled by the nagging feeling in the back of her mind.
What’s Beryl’s angle in all this?
Jo drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking back to everything they’d uncovered so far.
Beryl had handed that envelope to Marnie, who’d delivered it to Parker Studies.
And now, Derek was mixed up in the blueprints.
Beryl Thorne was always in the middle of things, always finding a way to skirt accountability.
Jo clenched her jaw. She couldn’t let Beryl slip through the cracks again. If Beryl was tied to Convale, to Garvin’s death, to Derek’s lies, then Jo needed to figure out how it all connected.
Her eyes flicked to her phone. She’d already called Sam and sent him the photo. He’d take it from here. But that didn’t mean Jo was ready to sit back and wait.
Marnie took that envelope to Parker Studies.
The thought settled into her mind like a stone in still water. Jo hadn’t followed up on that thread yet, but it was time. Whatever was in that envelope, whatever connection Parker Studies had to this mess, it might be the key to unraveling everything.
Jo checked the time—plenty of daylight left. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She’d grab a quick sandwich and head over to Parker Studies.