Chapter 7 #3
Did one mastermind reach out to a hired gun?
Or had the perp written it out to remind themselves to stay on task?
That didn’t make a whole lot of sense unless the person suffered from multiple personalities or short-term memory difficulties.
He wasn’t a criminal profiler or a licensed mental health expert.
He couldn’t pass judgement on the killer.
But he could focus on the facts from the victim, and he still had someone under threat.
“Hey. Wait.” She stopped on the path, pointing to a broken branch on the ground. “This is the spot. The lightning strike. I was here.”
“Are you certain?”
She nodded. “I was heading out of the office.” She spun around, pointing at the outbuilding several yards away.
He held up a hand. “Don’t move.” He assessed the ground.
After the storm, as he feared, the ground had no clear footprints. The jagged pieces of the broken branch reflected a violent snap from a high velocity weapon. Finding a bullet or shell casing now would be impossible. He needed reinforcements with more ballistics experience.
As if on cue, his cell phone buzzed. “Hold on a second.” He paused and retrieved the phone. Spotting the name on the screen, he was glad to be in one of the few sections of the property with decent cell coverage. “This is Sheriff Goodwin.”
“Sheriff, Agent Reynolds calling you back. Can you talk?”
Emma stood still and close.
No doubt, she strained to hear every word. He meant what he said. He trusted her. He didn’t make a move to put distance between them. “I can.”
“Nothing concerning came up regarding the candidate or his wife. I have been in touch with his security detail about the situation. They were not aware of any letter or threat.”
Emma widened her eyes.
“Interesting,” Daniel said.
“Very. I told them I’d make contact. I’d like to stop by and review the letter.”
“Of course. I’d appreciate the assistance,” Daniel said.
“I’ll be there in a few days.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Daniel said and ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
Emma tapped a finger against her chin. “Huh.”
Huh, indeed. He wasn’t sure what to make of Margaux not telling her team about the note. Had she written it herself for attention? Why? He hadn’t remembered her seeking the focus of others all those years ago. Back then, he thought he recalled someone hiding away from too many prying eyes.
“Maybe she doesn’t trust her husband or his team,” Emma said.
Daniel considered it. That was a different, and potential, angle. He could neither rule it out or in. He was glad to have back up on the way. “Where is she now?”
“Jennifer and Christine went for a hike. Margaux wanted to play Clue. She’s probably still in the bunk waiting for more players to join her.”
“I guess we know how we’ll be spending our day.”
She stiffened, drawing up her shoulders.
“In the library. With the candlestick.”
She relaxed, letting out a shaky exhale. “Good. I really don’t want to go traipsing around in the woods right now.”
He reached for her hand again and squeezed. “We need to keep Margaux close. She’s in danger, and whoever is hunting her isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty with anyone in her periphery. Jennifer and Christine are at risk, too.”
“Do you think we should let the others know about Owen? What do you think will happen now?”
He dropped her hand and scrubbed both over his face, longing to wipe away the confusion as easily as the crust from his eyes. “The Thomases will make an announcement soon. I can’t ask anyone to stay.”
“But you’d like to? Are you worried the killer might slip out?”
He shrugged. He wasn’t sure what he was most scared of. The killer remaining to take care of loose ends? Or the murderer disappearing again and leaving Daniel and Emma forever in the dark about what really happened to Liz.
“I think being here is my last chance,” she murmured. “If I leave now, I’ll never learn the truth. I don’t think I can live without it anymore.”
He wouldn’t want her to. She deserved to have clarity so she could move forward with her life. He wouldn’t use her as bait. He’d keep her close and keep her safe.
Light caught in the side of his vision. Squatting, he squinted at the soft ground.
Half-buried in the dirt, he spotted it. He reached for a handkerchief in his breast pocket, a throwback he article he kept because his dad had always done the same.
With the white cloth covering his fingers, he brushed away the dried mud. Bullet casing. “Found it,” he said.
“Really?” she gasped.
He wasn’t sure if her reaction expressed relief or concern.
But another clue was precious in a case with few leads, and he was grateful.
He snapped a few photos of the scene before he recovered the casing.
He bagged the evidence and would submit it for testing.
“Remember. Act normal. Don’t say a word about what happened to you. ”
She made the zipped lips gesture.
He was glad for the bond and trust between them. They’d need each other. Now more than ever.