Chapter 51
FIFTY-ONE
Blackwood Estate
Harold’s Study
Afternoon sunlight spilled through the tall windows of Harold Blackwood's study, casting long bars of gold across the worn heart-pine floor.
Harold's reading glasses rested atop an open desk calendar. A fountain pen lay exactly where he'd left it. On the wall hung photographs of harvest crews, ribbon cuttings, and family Christmases, each faded a little more by time.
Burke slowly crossed the room.
Red Stephens had been right.
Harold hadn't thrown anything away.
Shelves sagged beneath leather-bound ledgers labeled Harvest 1996, Vineyard Expansion, Cattle Records, Equipment, Rainfall Logs.
Burke pulled one down.
Pruning schedules.
He opened another.
Fertilizer applications.
"Come on, Harold," he muttered. "You wrote everything down."
He searched another shelf.
More journals.
More farm records.
Nothing explained what had driven Harold and Walter apart during Harold's final months.
Burke turned toward the last bookcase.
One shelf remained.
Family histories.
Old hymnals.
A weathered Bible.
Unlike the others, its black leather cover was soft from years of use.
He hesitated.
"One last place," he murmured.
He carried it to the desk and opened it carefully.
Several folded papers slipped free.
They fluttered across Harold's desk.
Burke frowned.
One was a feed store invoice.
Another was a receipt for fencing supplies.
A third was a yellow legal-pad page folded neatly into quarters.
He opened it.
Harold's familiar handwriting covered only a few lines.
Walter—
We need to settle this before harvest.
I'm not leaving things the way they are.
—H.
Burke's eyes narrowed.
"So you two were fighting."
He laid the note beside the Bible.
His gaze drifted back to the open pages.
Tucked deeper inside was something thicker than paper.
A small Kodak print, softened at the corners from years of being handled.
Burke picked it up.
He turned it over.
He looked from the photograph...
...to the open Bible.
He lowered himself into Harold's chair.
A soft knock sounded at the open study door.
Bennett stepped inside.
"I heard you were looking through Harold's records."
Without a word, Burke held out the photograph.
Bennett took it.
His brow furrowed.
Burke turned the open Bible toward him.
Bennett read the page.
Then his eyes widened.
For a long moment, neither man spoke.
Finally, Burke broke the silence.
"I don't think Harold and Walter were fighting for the reason we assumed.”
Bennett looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
Burke closed the Bible gently.
"Walter wasn't hiding what I thought he was."
Before Bennett could ask another question, Burke's cell phone vibrated in his pocket.
He glanced at the screen.
Sara Parker.
He answered.
"Sheriff, I found what you asked me to look into."
"You're going to want to hear this."
Burke's expression hardened.
"I'm on my way."
"Don't say anything yet."
Bennett nodded.
"I won't."
Burke picked up his hat and walked out, leaving Bennett alone in Harold's study.