Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Nell sat propped up in bed, anxiously jiggling her good foot. “Where’s my wheelchair?”
Emma and Eric had claimed the recliner and the guest chair. Nell’s roommate had no company today, and the woman was snoring softly through the background noise her television provided.
Emma felt as edgy as Nell but pretended otherwise. “We have to be patient.”
“I’m not a patient patient,” Nell snapped, then grinned at her play on words. “I’m just so ready to move on to this next phase of my life.”
“And eat some real food,” Eric added.
“That, too.” Nell reached over to the brochure on her tray table and opened it for the sixth time since Emma arrived. “This place looks so much nicer than the last one.”
Emma had gone over the brochure a few times and agreed.
The rehab facility was going to take all of Emma’s meager savings and then some, but it would be worth it.
Nell appeared optimistic for the first time Emma could remember.
Possibly since before their parents died.
She was making plans to return to teaching yoga, and she wanted to go back to school; to add physical therapy to her skillset.
She hadn’t nailed down where any of this would take place, but the rehab facility offered an excellent career guidance department.
But what did Nell’s newfound goals mean for Emma’s life?
Guilt sank its fangs into her gut. How dare she put her own hopes and desires ahead of Nell’s?
Emma was coming to realize what she wanted was a life with Matthias.
Or at least time and space to figure out if they were truly meant to be.
Accomplishing that meant leaving her sister behind.
Again. But if Emma chose to be here for Nell, it would mean Matthias returning to Erie without her.
Was their bond strong enough to endure a long-distance relationship for a little while?
She hoped like hell it was, because leaving her only living family at this crucial point in her recovery didn’t feel like a viable option.
Emma decided her own long-term plans would have to stay on hold for the next few months until Nell sorted out her dreams and desires. For now, Emma needed to take life one day at a time and pray her future with Matthias survived.
Nell closed the brochure and waved it at Emma. “Didn’t you say Sonny’s wife was using?”
Emma thought of Ashley, wrapped in her pink hoodie, pale and sweaty. “I never saw her take anything, but she definitely shows all the signs.”
“And she has a little girl?”
“Yes.”
“Daphne,” Eric said. “Poor kid. Left with no father, and her mother’s a mess.”
Nell sat up taller. “I want to go see her. Ashley, I mean.”
Emma and Eric exchanged a look.
“I want to give this to her.” Nell again fluttered the brochure.
“Nellie,” Eric said, his tone cautious. “I love that you want to help, but you’re not in a position to sponsor someone else. Not yet.”
“I know that. I don’t want to sponsor her. I want to give her the information and encourage her to look into this place. For the sake of her child. I mean, it seems a thousand times better than the other facilities I’ve been in.”
Eric looked to Emma again. Nell’s gaze slid to her, too, as if the weight of the decision rested on Emma’s shoulders.
“I see no reason why we can’t drop by her house.” Emma thought of her previous visit with Matthias. “Maybe we should pick up some cookies to take with us.”
Nell clapped her hands. “Perfect.” Her eyes shifted toward the door. “And here comes my ride,” she said as an orderly entered with a wheelchair.
* * *
Matthias eased his Jeep in next to the state troopers’ unmarked sedan in Fran’s narrow driveway. He had barely enough room to squeeze out of his vehicle.
At the sidewalk, Fergusson faced Matthias, glowering. “Do not make me regret letting you tag along. Lukan and I ask the questions. You stay quiet.”
“Scout’s honor,” Matthias promised, not mentioning he’d never been a Boy Scout.
Fergusson accepted the pledge and strode to the front door, Lukan one step behind. Matthias trailed at a more leisurely pace, surveying their surroundings. There was no movement from the neighboring houses, although there were likely more than one pair of eyes watching them.
Fran answered the knock on the door. Her gaze took in the two troopers and lingered on Matthias as the only one of the trio she knew. “Can I help you?” she asked warily.
Fergusson held up his credentials and introduced himself and Lukan. With a glance at Matthias, he added, “I gather you’ve already met Detective Honeywell.”
“Yes,” she said curtly.
“May we come in?”
She considered her options, none of which she appeared to like. She stepped back, allowing them to enter, but fixed a questioning gaze on Matthias. He had no problem reading her mind. What’s going on here?
Both troopers studied Fran’s collection of artifacts. Little had changed since Matthias’s visit a few hours earlier, except he did notice the horseshoe nail, skeleton key, and buckle from Emma’s farm had been added to a display on one of the side tables.
“This is amazing,” Lukan said.
“Thank you,” Fran replied, although Matthias wasn’t sure if Lukan considered it an expansive archeological collection or an assemblage of junk.
Fergusson finally faced her and gestured at her sofa. “We have some questions for you, if you don’t mind. Let’s have a seat.”
She scoffed. “If I don’t mind? Does that matter? What if I do mind?”
Fergusson gave her a wry smile. “Then you ask us to leave, and we oblige.”
Fran considered her options, shrugged, and lowered into an easy chair.
The troopers claimed opposite ends of the sofa. Matthias chose to stand, arms crossed.
“Are these all your finds?” Fergusson gestured to the displays around them.
Fran reacted with uncertainty, thrown by such a simple question, which, Matthias knew, was Fergusson’s intention. “Yes,” she replied.
“I agree with my partner. It’s amazing. How long have you been metal detecting?”
She visibly relaxed. “Almost ten years. It’s become my passion in life.”
“Is there any money in it?” Fergusson sounded genuinely curious. “I mean, have you found anything of value and sold it?”
“Oh, I don’t sell my treasures, and I don’t deliberately search for what you would think of as valuable. I like old things. Everyday items that our parents or grandparents used. It helps me connect to the past.”
“Interesting.” Fergusson glanced at his notebook. “How long have you lived around here?”
“All my life. My parents had property outside of Eldersville.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“Burgettstown High School.” She looked at Matthias. “With Emma.”
“What about college?”
“I studied Health Services Administration at West Virginia University.”
Fergusson asked a few more questions about her degrees and her current work situation before steering the topic in another direction. “Do you have a big family?”
Her forehead creased. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“We’re just trying to get to know you. Are your parents still alive?”
“Just my dad. He lives in Florida.”
“Brothers? Sisters?”
“I’m an only child, and I’m pretty sure you already know all this.”
“We do,” Fergusson admitted. “We also know about your uncle. Patrick Winslow.”
Fran’s eyes darted toward Matthias, but she forced her gaze back to the trooper. She probably realized she’d neglected to mention the relationship yesterday. Her voice tightened. “It was a shock to hear he’d died. And in such a horrible manner.”
“We understand his immediate family is all gone.”
“I guess that’s true. His and my mom’s siblings both died of cancer.”
“He has no children?”
“No. He was married briefly years ago. I don’t think the marriage lasted a year, and they didn’t have any kids, thank goodness.”
“Are you aware you’re the sole beneficiary named in his Will?”
Fran’s chin came up, and her eyes grew wary. “I knew. He told me he was getting his affairs in order a couple of years ago. Is that why you’re here? You think I had something to do with Patrick’s death?”
“Did you?” Fergusson asked.
“No.” Her tone suggested it was the stupidest question she’d ever been asked. “First of all, Patrick and I haven’t been especially close, but we get—got—along well. I fully expected that one day he’d get married and change his Will. I never expected to actually inherit anything from him.”
“Was he seeing anyone?”
Fran stared at Fergusson for a few long moments before answering, “I wouldn’t know.”
“Do you have any idea how much you stand to gain? How much he was worth?”
“No.” She leaned forward as if ready to come out of her seat. “And I don’t care. I have a good job. I own my home. My car is paid for. I don’t need his money.” She extended an arm, indicating one of her display shelves. “Do I look like I crave the so-called good life?”
Matthias had to admit, nothing about this home suggested the owner valued luxury.
Fergusson must’ve reached the same conclusion. He skimmed back through his notes. “You mentioned going to school with Emma Anderson.”
“That’s right.” Fran again glanced at Matthias, then settled back into the armchair. “We graduated in the same class.”
“Along with Greyson Jones, I understand.”
The moment of composure vanished at the mention of Sonny Jones. “Yes,” she said flatly.
“So, you’ve known Mr. Jones a long time.”
“Yes.”
“How well did you know him?”
She shot a scowl at Matthias, as if this was all his fault, before turning her glare on Fergusson. “I believe you already know. Or think you do.”
“Okay. Why don’t you clear up any misconceptions I might have?”
Fran crossed her arms and broke eye contact, her mouth clamped shut, lips forming an inverted U.
Fergusson narrowed his eyes at her. “You were in possession of a ring, am I correct?”
Her angry gaze slid to him, but she didn’t reply.
“Is the ring yours?”
She didn’t speak. Neither did Fergusson, Lukan, or Matthias. The three of them were all well versed in the power of silence.
Fran was not. She began to squirm. It took less than a minute for her to break. “It was a long time ago.”