Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Once the conversation lagged, Emma went back to inspecting the items she’d retrieved from under her seat.
The sky was much brighter, the sun nearly up, making it easier to see the odds and ends.
A skeleton key. A hoof pick. Emma rolled it over in her hand, remembering cleaning out their horses’ feet.
She set it down and picked up the silver ring.
She gave it a closer look. Initially she’d believed it was a cheap piece of junk jewelry, but on closer inspection, she reconsidered. She buffed it with her thumb. “Huh.”
“What is it?” Matthias asked.
“I’m not sure yet.” Emma held it up to the window to catch some of the dawn’s light. Words were scratched on the inside of the ring, but she couldn’t quite make them out. She twisted and reached into the rear seat, coming back with her purse.
She rummaged through the handbag for the packet of wet wipes she kept to clean off sticky restaurant tables, a habit she’d picked up from her mother.
After ripping one open, she used the towelette to scrub the silver band inside and out.
She squinted at the words, still unable to read them.
After tossing the purse into the backseat again, she retrieved her phone from her pocket and turned on the flashlight.
Using its beam, she scrutinized the inscription, which was now clearly visible. Emma let out a long, “Ohhhh…”
“You’re making me crazy,” Matthias snapped. “What is it?”
“I thought it was a piece of junk jewelry or maybe a silver ring, but the closer I look, the more convinced I am that it’s platinum. And,” she said, glancing at him, “it’s engraved.”
“What’s it say?”
Emma aimed the phone’s flashlight on the inside of the band, turning the ring as she read. “From Sonny, with love.”
Matthias echoed the inscription back to her, and she could tell his mind was racing, same as hers. “Whose ring is it?” he asked.
“Doesn’t say. I can’t see anything else written on it, but I’d love to take a look under magnification.”
“So would I.”
“I mean, you’d think it was Ashley’s, but what on earth was it doing on my farm?”
He appeared to consider the possibility. “Maybe Fran was metal detecting on other properties that same day. Your junk might’ve gotten mixed up with someone else’s.”
“Maybe.” Emma’s swirling thoughts came to rest on one earlier assumption. One that scared her half to death.
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing.”
“Emma?”
She lowered her head, shielding her eyes from him, and looked at the items in her hands. “I just had an idea, and I don’t like it.”
“Tell me.”
She hesitated before speaking again. Once she shared her assumption with Matthias, there was no stuffing it back into the recesses of her mind.
But she knew him too well. He wouldn’t let it go until she came clean.
In a voice that was little more than a whisper, she said, “When I first saw this ring the day Fran turned it over to us, I’d been thinking it was Nell’s.
That Zeke had given it to her, and she lost it out there.
” Emma lifted her face, turning toward Matthias. “What if I was half right?”
She didn’t need to say the rest. Matthias put the pieces together. “You think Nell… and Sonny Jones?”
“She has a history of getting involved with the wrong men.” Emma tried to conjure a mental picture of her sister with Sonny. It wouldn’t quite mesh. “But that can’t be the case here. She loved Zeke. She wouldn’t have two-timed him.” Would she have?
* * *
Matthias didn’t contradict Emma on that last part, but he’d seen the kind of men Nell had been involved with in the past. “I don’t suppose there’s a date stamped on the ring, is there?”
Emma shined her phone’s flashlight on the inside of the band again. “Not that I can see.”
Matthias nodded. This ring inscribed, From Sonny with love, could have been gifted to Nell before Zeke was in the picture.
Or it might have nothing to do with her.
It was a question for Emma’s sister once she was settled at Washington Hospital.
“We’re both too tired to think clearly,” he said.
“Let’s put all of this aside for now. We’ll go back to the hotel, get a few hours of sleep, and then come up with a plan. ”
Emma leaned down to place the treasures on the floor at her feet… except for the ring, which she tucked into her jeans’ pocket. “As long as the plan involves a visit to Fran.”
“Count on it.”
* * *
They managed a few hours of slumber, although, for Matthias, sleep was fitful at best. Emma’s phone woke them at eleven a.m. with news that Nell was scheduled for surgery at noon.
Too late for the hotel’s complimentary breakfast, they made do with crappy coffee from the room’s machine before heading to the hospital.
Matthias settled Emma in the waiting room and made a run to the cafeteria for bagels, cream cheese, and more coffee.
When he returned, she was on her phone. She gave him a pained expression. Not worry. Discomfort.
“Matthias just got back,” she said as he placed their food on the table between them. “Let me ask.” She tapped the mute icon before facing him. “It’s Eric. He wants to be here for Nell, but…”
“But you wrecked his car.”
She huffed indignantly. “I did not. The idiot who hit us wrecked his car.”
Matthias had a feeling she’d had this same debate with Eric. “You want me to bring him here.”
“That’s what he wants.” Her lips curled into a devious grin. “I want you to take him to the car rental place. Otherwise we might have him tagging along when we go see Fran.”
“Good thinking.” Matthias sipped from the hospital coffee, which was no better than the hotel room stuff. “Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I finish my breakfast.”
Eric must not have argued, and Emma ended the call.
As Matthias peeled the lid from a tub of cream cheese, he said, “Why don’t you run down to the emergency department and see if Fran’s there? I’ll stay here in case the doctor comes out.”
Emma sipped her own coffee, then shook her head. “I called her before Eric. She’s off today and plans to be home. She said we could come by anytime.”
“Good.” Matthias was eager to see how Fran reacted to the ring.
“Are you going to call Fergusson?”
He paused, bagel halfway to his mouth, then took a big bite. Chewing gave him time to consider a reply. It did not, however, provide enough time for Emma to change the subject. She continued to wait. He wiped his mouth before answering. “No. I’d rather stay off his radar right now.”
“He can’t possibly suspect you had anything to do with Winslow’s death or the fire.”
Except Fergusson absolutely could. Would any of his accusations stick? Of course not. But Matthias didn’t have the time or patience to face him this morning. “Let’s give him time to get reports back from the coroner and the fire marshal.”
“No use bothering him unless he has real information.”
“Exactly.”
* * *
With a plate and pins now stabilizing her tibia, Nell came through surgery with flying colors. The doctor told Emma they planned to keep her overnight and get her started on physical therapy in the morning. If all went according to expectations, she would be discharged tomorrow afternoon.
Leaving Eric, now in possession of a rental car, to wait for Nell to be transferred from post-op to a room, Emma and Matthias left to visit Fran.
Once again, Emma acted as navigator, watching the GPS on her phone and directing Matthias to the address near Cross Creek Village.
“This is it.” Emma pointed to a gray vinyl-sided house that felt shoehorned between two other small houses on each side. With its substantial timber deck, the structure looked more suited for a larger, more rural lot.
Matthias parked in front of a single-car block garage painted the same shade of gray as the house.
Fran stepped onto the deck as they climbed out of the Jeep. “I’m so glad you could come.”
Emma scooped Fran’s metal detecting finds from the floor, sans the ring, which remained in her pocket. She led the way up the wooden steps where Fran waved them inside.
The interior of the house appeared to have been updated not long ago.
There were no marks or scuffs on the vinyl plank floors or the white painted walls.
Instead of framed watercolors or family photos, the walls were covered in shadowboxes filled with an assortment of what had to be Fran’s finds.
More rusted relics filled a pair of built-in shelves and the tops of side tables around the room.
“You’ve been at this a while,” Emma said, hoping she didn’t sound judgmental.
Fran beamed. “It’s my passion.”
Matthias mumbled something Emma couldn’t make out. Apparently Fran couldn’t either.
She pointed at Emma’s hands. “I see you’ve brought my treasures back to me.”
He grumbled again.
Emma looked around for a place to dump the items.
“Come with me.” Fran gestured them into an eat-in kitchen, where she grabbed a towel and spread it on the table.
Emma deposited the key, hoof pick, belt buckle, and horseshoe nail on the towel and backed away. Fran stepped in, eagerly picking up and examining each piece as if it was priceless.
Emma moved to Matthias’s side and waited for Fran to notice the missing item. He leaned toward Emma and whispered in her ear, “You want to keep one of those pieces for yourself.”
Not a question or a suggestion. She sensed he wanted to see how Fran would react. Emma had considered holding onto either the key or the hoof pick, but that was before she’d taken a good look at the ring.
“If you don’t mind,” she said, “I’d like to keep the hoof pick. It has sentimental value.”
Fran looked at her and scowled. “It’s just an old horse grooming tool. I have a collection of similar items, but not one of these.”
Matthias crossed his arms. “You found this stuff on Emma’s farm. Technically, it all belongs to her. She doesn’t have to let you have any of it.”
Fran whirled to face them. Her expression reminded Emma of a child who’d been told she had to give up a favorite toy. “I usually keep what I find. I have a legal form.”
“Which I don’t believe Emma signed.” He looked at her. “Did you?”
“No,” Emma replied and came back to Fran. “Did Eric sign it?”
“No.” Fran slouched, dejected.
Matthias gently elbowed Emma. When she glanced at him, he raised an eyebrow. She didn’t have to ask what he meant. “Oh. There was one other item, but I was confused about its origins.” Emma reached into her pocket, dug out the ring, and held it out on her open palm.
Fran’s eyes widened. She reached for it, but Emma curled her fingers around the band and drew back. “Let me see that,” Fran demanded.
This time, Emma pinched it between her forefinger and thumb, holding it up but not offering it to Fran. “Where did you find this? Not on my farm, I’m betting.”
“I can’t tell you anything if you don’t let me see what it is.”
Emma shot a look at Matthias. He shrugged. She debated turning it over and pictured Fran shoving it in her mouth and swallowing it. Emma realized how silly she was being and reached toward Fran to drop the ring in her eager hand.
Fran stared at the band, her face awash in emotions to the point that Emma couldn’t figure out what exactly she was feeling. Awe? Excitement? Amazement? Gratitude?
Grief?
She did not, Emma noticed, look at the inscription.
“You didn’t find this on my farm.” Emma didn’t pose it as a question.
“No.” Fran blinked as if she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. “I had this in my pocket already. From a previous hunt.”
“Where?” Emma asked.
Fran blinked again. “I—I’m not sure.”
Emma didn’t believe her for a minute. Fran was organized, meticulous. She had to be for her job. Emma was certain she could pick out any one of her finds on display, and Fran could give her a rundown of where and when she’d found it.
Matthias stepped to Emma’s side and reached out an open palm to Fran. “I’ll take that.”
Fran closed both hands around the ring and hugged it to her chest. “I didn’t find it on Emma’s property, so she has no claim on it.”
“You’re right.” He didn’t withdraw his palm. “She doesn’t. But it’s evidence in a police case, so I do.”
Emma pressed her lips closed. He was bluffing, and she knew it.
Fran didn’t. “What do you mean? Evidence?”
“Read the inscription,” he said.
Reluctantly, she brought the ring in front of her face, still keeping it well away from Matthias. She made a show of squinting at the words etched inside the band, but Emma had a feeling Fran already knew them by heart.
“So?” Fran again hugged the ring close. “How does that make it evidence?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Sonny Jones gave that ring to someone. Now he’s dead.”
“One thing has nothing to do with the other.”
“We don’t know that.” He wagged the fingers of his extended hand. “However, if we determine you’re right, we’ll release the ring.”
Fran gave his words considerable thought until she finally acquiesced and dropped the band into his palm.
“Naturally,” he said, “we’ll have to determine the rightful owner of it first.”
“It’s mine,” she insisted. “I found it.”
He shrugged and slid the ring into his pocket. “Tell me what you know about Patrick Winslow.”
The question threw Fran off balance. “Not much. He was Sonny’s project manager, I believe.”
“Did they get along?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Emma wanted to believe her. But she didn’t.
“Why are you asking?” Then Fran gave a dramatic—too dramatic—gasp. “Do you think he killed Sonny?”
“I’m asking you,” Matthias said.
Fran’s headshake appeared more like tremors. “I have no clue.” She looked to Emma. “What’s going on? Why are you asking me all these questions?”
Emma wanted to jump in—to slow Matthias down—but he didn’t give her a chance.
“Where were you early this morning?” he asked Fran.
Her eyes darted from Emma to Matthias. “I’ve been here since I got home from work yesterday at five thirty p.m.”
“Can anyone confirm that?”
She planted her fists on her hips. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Patrick Winslow’s dead. He died in a fire at the Powell farm construction site.
” Matthias dropped his chin, fixing her with the look known to scare the heck out of suspects.
“You know. The same place where you found Jones’s body.
Tell me something. How is it, out of all the acreage on that property, you managed to pick the exact spot where Jones was buried to metal detect? ”