Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Jo nursed her Coors Light as she leaned against the bar at Holy Spirits, watching the amber glow of the stained glass windows cast a warm hue over the room.
The converted church buzzed with the usual Friday crowd, but the noise felt distant.
Her thoughts churned, circling everything they’d uncovered at Parker Studies.
Sam sat beside her, sipping his Mooseneck beer. He placed the bottle down with a muted thud and turned to her. “Marnie’s mother being there changes things,” he said, his voice low enough to blend with the hum of conversation.
Jo nodded, her fingers tracing the condensation on her bottle. “Beryl’s payments weren’t just about buying land or keeping her quiet. She’s paying for treatment. Marnie’s wrapped up in this because she’s desperate.”
Sam’s jaw tightened. “Desperation doesn’t absolve her. But it does mean we need to handle Marnie carefully.”
Jo exhaled slowly, her frustration simmering just below the surface. “Right. She’ll do what she has to do to get her mother treatment.”
Sam frowned, his gaze narrowing. “It all points to Beryl. I don’t think she’d go this far without a bigger motive. She’s not just petty—she’s calculating.”
Jo took a long sip of her beer, letting the bitterness ground her. “So what’s her endgame, Sam? What does Garvin’s land have to do with all this? And why is Griggs suddenly in the mix?”
Sam’s hand froze mid-reach for his beer. “Griggs,” he murmured, his tone shifting.
Jo raised an eyebrow. “What about him?”
Sam leaned back, staring past her like he was piecing together a puzzle.
“I saw him at Marnie’s campaign office a few weeks ago.
I didn’t think much of it then—just assumed he was another hired hand—but when I went to question Clara Hartwell about Derek being there, she identified Griggs in the photo. ”
“What?”
Sam explained how he went to Clara’s office so he could have her officially identify Derek. “And when I pointed to Derek in the photo, she said not that guy… the other guy.”
Jo sighed. “And the other guy in the photo was Griggs. I never specified which man I was talking about.”
Sam nodded. “Griggs doesn’t just show up somewhere unless there’s trouble. And if he’s tied to Beryl and Marnie...”
Jo’s stomach twisted. “Then whatever this is, it’s bigger than just land disputes or campaign favors.”
Sam nodded slowly, his expression hardening. “I need to confront Beryl. If anyone knows what Griggs is up to and how it ties back to Garvin’s murder, it’s her.”
Jo smirked faintly. “Good luck with that. You know she’s going to dance around every question you throw at her.”
“Maybe,” Sam said, his voice steady. “But I’m not letting her walk away this time. Though maybe I should have Wyatt follow him just for good measure. Wyatt’s pretty good at tailing people.”
Jo felt a pang of admiration for his resolve. Sam’s patience and methodical approach were a stark contrast to her own gut-driven style, but it was moments like this that reminded her why they made such a good team.
Her phone buzzed against the bar, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced down, her stomach knotting when she saw Bridget’s name and the message.
Meet me at the cottage. It’s urgent.
Jo’s first instinct was to tell Sam. She opened her mouth—but then stopped herself.
A cold thread of guilt coiled in her chest. Parker Studies.
If anyone found out Sam had let her pretend she was there officially, it could cost him his job.
And the trap she wanted to set for the note leaver at the cottage?
If Sam showed up and got tangled in that, it could look like he was involved.
She couldn’t drag him down with her rule bending.
But as she stared at the message again, another worry gnawed at her. What if the note leaver had Bridget? What if her plan to flush out whoever was behind the threats had put her sister in danger?
Her pulse quickened, and she downed the rest of her beer, trying to push the panic down. She couldn’t afford to lose her focus now.
“Everything okay?” Sam asked, catching her hesitation as he stood and slipped on his jacket.
Jo forced a tight smile, sliding her phone into her pocket. “Yeah, Bridget wants to go over something tonight. Probably garden plans or something,” she lied, her voice deliberately light.
Sam studied her, his brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded. “All right. If she needs anything, you call me.”
“I will,” she promised, the weight of her unspoken fears pressing heavy on her chest.
Sam finished his beer. “I’m off to deal with Beryl. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Good luck,” Jo said, managing a small smile.
She watched him leave, waiting until the door swung shut behind him before grabbing her coat. Her fingers brushed against her phone as she hurried outside, her heart pounding.
Bridget’s message replayed in her mind like a warning bell. If the note leaver had Bridget, she’d never forgive herself.