Chapter 30
THIRTY
Jackson County Sheriff’s Office
Sheriff Burke Scott
Burke sat at the head of the conference table while the deputies worked through the growing list of suspects.
The whiteboard behind him looked worse than it had that morning. More names. More arrows. No answers.
Scout sat to his right. Luke and Sara occupied the opposite side of the table. Baker flipped through a folder near the end.
Burke rubbed a hand across his face. “All right. What’ve we got?”
Luke opened his notebook. “Red Stephens.”
A few people exchanged looks.
Burke nodded. “Go ahead.”
“He’s angry.”
Scout snorted. “That’s not exactly breaking news.”
Luke shrugged. “No. But I think he’s angrier than anybody realized.”
That got Burke’s attention.
"Walter Grady told me Mabel was thinking about selling the cattle operation."
The room went still.
“What?” Burke asked.
"Walter said not immediately—maybe a year or two from now."
“Why?”
“According to Walter, Mabel’s long-term plan was to streamline things.”
“The winery,” Scout said.
Luke nodded. “The winery.”
"She thought Aubrey could run it?"
“Apparently.”
Luke flipped a page. “Walter said after Deck investigated Aubrey, Mabel became convinced she’d eventually come back.”
“So Mabel starts thinking about simplifying the business,” Burke said.
“Exactly.” Luke tapped the notebook. “Problem is, Red has devoted thirty years of his life to that cattle operation.”
“Did Red know?” Burke asked.
"Walter says yes."
"Red?"
"Says Walter doesn't know what he's talking about."
A few groans sounded around the room.
“Of course he does,” Scout muttered.
“Gets better.”
“Please tell me,” Burke said.
“Red says Walter’s the one who’s been upset lately.”
Another groan circled the room.
“Those two could blame each other for the weather.”
Burke leaned back in his chair. “So Red points at Walter.”
“And Walter points at Red,” Luke said.
“Fantastic.”
Luke flipped another page. “There was one other thing.”
Burke looked up. “What?”
“Walter kept circling back to Anne.”
That got everyone’s attention.
“How?” Burke asked.
Luke checked his notes. “He said everybody talks about what Anne did to Mabel.” He paused. “But nobody talks about what Mabel did to Anne.”
Scout frowned. “What does that mean?”
“I asked,” Luke said. “He wouldn’t elaborate.”
“What exactly did he say?” Burke asked.
Luke read from the notebook.
“Mabel wasn't always right—Anne got hurt too.”
“What kind of hurt?” Burke asked.
“Wouldn’t say.”
Burke stared at the table.
Mary Lou had practically painted Mabel as the victim. Walter seemed to be carrying around an entirely different version of the story.
Burke wrote:
MARY LOU: ANNE HURT MABEL
WALTER: MABEL HURT ANNE
Somewhere between those two stories sat the truth.
“What else?” Burke asked.
Deputy Sara Parker flipped open her notebook.
Luke looked up automatically.
Burke caught it and ignored it.
“What’ve you got?” he asked.
“Development company.”
Burke nodded. “Go ahead.”
“About four years ago, a group out of Asheville approached Mabel about acreage bordering the cattle operation.”
“Blackwood Estate?”
“No sir.” Sara shook her head. “The cattle side.”
“What’d they want?”
“Luxury cabins. Vacation rentals. Eventually condos.”
Scout made a face. “That would’ve gone over well.”
It didn't. A faint smile touched Sara's mouth.
"According to everybody I spoke with, Mabel shut it down before they finished the presentation."
That certainly sounded like Mabel.
“Anybody still holding a grudge?” Burke asked.
Sara shrugged. “The company president sounded bitter.”
“Bitter doesn’t equal murder.”
“No sir.”
“What about Blackwater Lake Lodge?”
“Already checked.” Sara flipped a page. “Kelly and Emily Belcher bought that property almost ten years ago.”
“They looking to expand?”
“No.”
“Any problems with Mabel?”
“Actually sounded like they adored her.”
Another dead end.
“What about Wade Hollis?” Burke asked.
Sara snorted. “He tried to buy the winery years ago.”
“Before the federal investigation?”
“Way before.”
“And?”
“He got told no.”
More laughter.
“Apparently Mabel was pretty efficient when she didn’t like an idea.”
Luke grinned. “That’s one way to put it.”
Sara shot him a look. The corner of her mouth twitched.
Luke looked entirely too pleased with himself.
Scout shook his head. “If you two are gonna flirt, take it to the parking lot.”
Both deputies immediately looked innocent.
Nobody bought it.
Burke pointed his pen toward Sara. “Anything else?”
She shook her head. “No sir.”
Burke turned to the far end of the table. “What about Ruger? Anything from the Victorian?”
Deputy Jenkins answered. “We ran him from the mansion out across the property. He tracked a scent from the house over to the winery offices and stopped. Nothing past that.”
Burke nodded once.
He looked back at the whiteboard.
Red Stephens. Walter Grady. Developers. Anne Langford.
Still no answers.
He closed the notebook. “Let’s call Anne.”
The phone rang twice.
“Hello?”
“Anne Langford?”
“Speaking.”
Burke introduced himself.
A brief pause.
Then Anne laughed softly. “Sheriff Scott.”
Burke smiled despite himself. “You know who I am?”
“Honey, I knew your father.” The warmth in her voice sounded genuine. “Burton Scott was one of the good ones.”
Several deputies exchanged glances.
Burke ignored them.
“The last time I was home, Aubrey was still little. Your father helped me when my car broke down outside town.”
“That surprises me,” Burke said.
“Oh, he probably forgot about it five minutes later.” She laughed softly. “I didn’t.”
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
Burke glanced at his notes. “The medical examiner completed Mabel’s autopsy.”
Silence.
“Autopsy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What are you telling me?”
“Your sister was murdered.”
Nothing came through the speaker for several seconds.
Then—
“Oh my God.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “I thought she had a heart attack.”
“So did everyone else.”
“When was the funeral?” she asked quietly.
Burke frowned. “The funeral?”
“I couldn’t come. My boyfriend had surgery, and I couldn’t leave. I figured I’d call Aubrey in a few days.” She hesitated. “How is she?”
Burke thought of Aubrey at the Victorian, trying to hold herself together.
“Doing what she can.”
He made another note. “I need to ask where you were the night Mabel died.”
A small laugh escaped her, surprised rather than offended.
“An alibi?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Sheriff, it’s no secret there wasn’t much love lost between my sister and me.” She paused. “But really? You think I’d kill her?”
“I have to ask.”
“And you should.” No anger. No outrage. Just practicality. “You can mark me off your list.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’ve been in Florida for months.” She gave him the town, the address, the neighborhood. “My boyfriend, Brad, and I have a place here.”
“Anyone able to verify that?”
She laughed. “Oh Lord, yes.”
“Phone records?”
“Absolutely.”
“Credit cards?”
“Help yourself.”
Scout raised an eyebrow. Anne hadn’t hesitated once.
Then she sighed. “Look, Sheriff.”
"My sister rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. So did Harold. No telling who might've held a grudge."
The statement didn’t sound bitter. Just honest.
Then she spoke again, her voice quieter.
“I wish we’d fixed things.”
Burke looked up. “What things?”
“Thirty years’ worth.”
The answer hung in the room. Sad. Regretful. Human.
Nothing about the woman on the other end of the line fit the picture he’d expected.
When the call ended, Burke sat staring at the speakerphone.
Scout finally broke the silence.
“Well.”
Burke thought about the warmth in Anne's voice. The surprise. The regret. The easy way she'd offered every piece of information he asked for.
It wasn't what he'd expected from a killer.
Burke looked at the whiteboard.
Red. Walter. Developers. Anne.
He studied Anne Langford's name for a long moment.
"Baker," he said, "run this down. Credit cards, phone records, neighbors, the condo office. I want to know exactly where Anne Langford was the night Mabel died."
"Yes, sir."
Burke picked up the green marker.
Scout watched him. “You buy it?”
Burke drew a neat check beside Anne Langford's name.
"Yeah," he said. "I do."
"Verify it anyway."
The list of suspects was getting shorter.
The answers weren't.