Bragg rang the bell and stood inches to the left of the door as he waited. Finally, footsteps sounded inside the house and he saw the flutter of curtains in the window by the door.
Locks clicked open and the door cracked open a fraction. A tall woman in her mid-twenties stared up at him with bright blue eyes, which set off pallid skin.
Bragg touched the brim of his Stetson. “Ms. Kate Trenton?”
Her gaze narrowed. “That’s right.”
“Ma’am, we are trying to find your brother, Jackson Trenton.”
Her body tensed and she drew into herself. “I haven’t seen him in a year.”
“When was that?”
Her fingers curled into fists. “He came to our father’s funeral last year, but I’ve not seen him since.”
Bragg tried to restrain his impatience. “Ma’am, may I come in? I’d like to ask you a few questions about your brother.”
She hesitated. “Why?”
“Ma’am, I don’t think you want us to have this discussion outside.”
She closed the door and he heard the scrape of the chain leaving the lock. She opened the door wide. Dressed in jeans, a red short-sleeved shirt, and tennis shoes, she hesitated and then invited him into the house.
Bragg stepped inside to a central living room with polished wood floors. It was furnished with neat crisp European furniture and Oriental rugs. Light from a crystal chandelier glistened on a round glass coffee table.
Bragg removed his hat. “Ma’am, I need to cut to the chase, if that’s all right.”
Kate smoothed her hands over her jeans. “Sure.”
“Your father sent your older brother Jack to Shady Grove Estates twelve years ago.” Not a question, but a statement.
Her lips flattened and her skin paled all the more. “That’s right.”
“According to your brother’s records, he tried to take an overdose.”
She raised her chin but didn’t answer. Her gaze darted away before returning to him.
“Your brother lived at the facility for a year.”
Again she held back.
“Ma’am, I need answers, pronto. Why are you hesitating?”
“I’m not hesitating.”
Bragg struggled to keep his patience in check. “Ma’am, I need for you to be honest with me. I need to find your brother.”
“Why are you asking?”
“We are investigating several murders.”
For a long moment she didn’t speak, as if the burden of an old secret weighed on her. “Who was killed?”
“Former residents of Shady Grove.”
Her hands trembled. He’d hit a bull’s-eye.
“Ma’am, I can tell by the look on your face something is wrong. Tell me about Jack.”
“Like I said, I haven’t seen him since our father’s funeral.”
Bragg didn’t speak but waited, sensing her story bubbled under the surface.
When she didn’t speak, he said gently, “Ms. Trenton, you need to tell me. Why was Jack at Shady Grove? His file said he tried to overdose after your older sister’s accidental drowning.”
A bitter smile twisted the edge of her mouth. “He didn’t overdose.” For a long moment she didn’t speak. “He drowned our sister.”
“What?”
“I was twelve. He was twenty and Meg was twenty-one. Dad and I came home and discovered Meg floating in the pool. Jack was nowhere to be found. Dad pulled the security footage of the pool area. And he saw what Jack had done.” The words rushed out as if she’d released infection from an unhealed wound.
He ground his teeth. “Jack drowned your sister.”
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “There was no audio so we don’t know what had been said but we watched as Jack approached our sister and then she shook her head and shouted. He got angry and dragged her to the pool.” She closed her eyes. “He held her under the water until she stopped moving. And then he ran. Dad followed his wet footprints to his room and then to the garage. His car was gone. Jack came home several hours later. Dad had cleaned up the footprints and called the police. He told them she’d killed herself.”
“And he moved Jack to Shady Grove.”
“Dad thought if he kept Jack medicated he could control him. And he did. For a time. And then Jack convinced him he was desperately sorry over Meg’s death. Dad wanted to believe him. Finally the old man relented, and he let Jack go.”
Bragg drew in a deep breath, trying to control the anger rolling through his veins like liquid fire. “Has Jack contacted you at all?”
She swallowed. “He’s afraid of me. I have the security video from the night Meg died. If anything happens to me, it goes to the police. Dad set it up that way years ago.”
“Do you have a recent picture of your brother?”
“No. But when I saw him at the funeral I was shocked. He’s changed a lot. His hair is short and dark and he doesn’t wear his glasses anymore.”
Digging up a grave in a cemetery was no easy task. It required permission of the family, viable reasons, court orders, and of course a crew of workers. But Jack had none of those. No one would give him permission to dig up a grave and day workers were a suspicious lot and fearful of cemeteries at night.
So Jack had abandoned the idea of digging up the grave. The tall granite headstone was a powerful image and would suffice. He picked up the wilting white roses, sniffed them, and then tossed them into the shadows.
“What time is it?” she said.
He checked his watch. “Time to go.”
“This is the last one. You can’t screw this up.”
Irritated, he shut his eyes and clung to his temper. “Shut up! I’m sick of hearing you talk, Meg.”
She laughed. “That’s too bad. Because you’re stuck with me until the day you die.”
“Bitch.”
“Murderer.”
The time had come. Time to act.
As he turned, he tipped his head to the headstone: JEFFREY ROBERT TEMPLETON.
Chapter Twenty-One
Monday, June 9, 10: 45 P.M.
A rustle outside her window had Greer rising from her desk. At the window she pushed back the curtains and stared into the night. A light by the barn caught her attention. Mitch had already bunked for the night, and José would be fast asleep. So who was outside?
She tugged on her boots, laced them up, and, grabbing a flashlight, headed outside into the day’s lingering heat. Her flashlight cut through the darkness as dust and gravel crunched under her boots as she moved toward the barn.
“Mitch?” she asked.
The black mare brayed and snorted. Nothing unusual but the brown horse now swished his tail with worry. That wasn’t right.
With Bragg’s warnings to be careful, fear rose up Greer’s back as she approached the corral toward the horses. Both were agitated.
It wasn’t like her to get spooked. She’d been running this place for years and was accustomed to chasing off wild animals, even vagrants.
She paused as the rush of footsteps barreled toward her. As she turned, a sharp sting bit against her neck. Electricity shot through her limbs, and she crumbled to her knees. Strong hands grabbed her arms and kept her from falling face-first into the ground.
Mitch had heard the car when it had arrived on the property. Since he’d served in the Middle East, it didn’t take more than a shift in the wind or the rustle of branches to wake him. He still slept in basketball shorts, T-shirt and boots by his bed. Mortar fire in Central Texas wasn’t likely. Logic told him that. But a gut trained to be ready for IEDs, sniper shots, and explosions didn’t care about logic. So he was always ready for trouble. Just in case.
When he heard the car door close he sat up alert and wide awake. Jasper perked up his ears as Mitch slipped his feet into his boots, pulled the laces tight, yanked on his shirt, and grabbed his cell phone, wishing it were his service revolver.