A Willing Murder Read online

  She pushed the door open, then threw her arm up to cover her eyes. The lights were on tall stands with three big bulbs on each, and the room seemed to be full of them. Their brilliance blinded her.

  She lowered her arm an inch, blinking fast as her eyes adjusted. Through the windows, she could see Jack and Sara around the tall roots of the fallen tree. She was taking photos.

  Kate wanted to turn the lights off but Sara needed them.

  With both her hands up, Kate walked across the room toward one of the closed bedroom doors. She was only a foot away when she halted.

  Very, very slowly, she turned to her left.

  In the corner of the room was a man. He was hanging from a rope around his neck. At his feet, a chair was on its side.

  Kate didn’t think about what she did. She covered the distance to the man in two leaps, bent, threw her arms around his legs and did her best to lift him up. She put her head back and let out a scream that tore at her throat.

  Sara and Jack were there in seconds, and they reacted quickly. Sara helped Kate hold the man up—he was quite large—while Jack lifted the chair and climbed on it, his cast-encased leg to one side. He soon had the rope undone and he managed to get off the chair without falling.

  They gently lowered the man to the floor and Jack took his pulse, then shook his head.

  He was dead.

  “Take her out of here,” he said to Sara as he got his phone out of his pocket and called 911.

  Sara had her arm around Kate’s shoulders and was leading her to the door. “Jack.” Sara was nodding toward a piece of paper on the floor. It looked like a suicide note. He didn’t touch it but quickly took a photo of it on his phone.

  Sara led Kate outside, and they sat side by side on the concrete steps.

  “We shouldn’t have taken him down,” Kate whispered. “The police will want to know—”

  “We thought there was a chance he was alive.”

  Jack came out of the house and picked up Sara’s camera. “Can you...?”

  “Yeah, sure.” She got up, took the camera and went inside to photograph everything—especially the man.

  Jack sat down by Kate. “You okay?”

  She held her hand out straight. It was shaking.

  “We can’t leave until after the police clear the scene.”

  She nodded. “I recognized him, Jack. He’s the man I saw in town.”

  “Yes. Dan Bruebaker.”

  “The man Alastair wanted me to talk to. Why didn’t I do it? Alastair was so sure that Dan knew something. I could have—”

  Jack put his arm around her shoulders and drew her head onto his shoulder. “You are not allowed to blame yourself about this. You couldn’t have prevented it or—”

  She pulled away from him. “There was a note, right?”

  “Yes.” He held out his phone. “I didn’t read it.”

  The sound of sirens reached them.

  “Email it to someone,” she said quickly. “If the sheriff knows we have a copy, he’ll take it.”

  “Good idea.” He tapped a name, sent the message, then erased it from his phone.

  In the next second, they stood up because coming toward them was Sheriff Flynn. He had on black trousers, suspenders and a white tuxedo suit—and he was angry.

  “Déjà vu,” Kate said as she stood there, Jack beside her.

  “I ought to arrest both of you!” the sheriff shouted when he was just a few feet away. “Lock you up and throw away the key.”

  “Just so we’re together we can—” Jack began, but Kate elbowed him.

  “We are so, so sorry,” Kate said. “So very, very sorry.”

  Smiling, she took a step forward—then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell rather prettily onto the grass. Kate had fainted.

  TWENTY-ONE

  When Kate awoke, she was lying on a bed inside an ambulance and Jack was sitting beside her. He was jamming a long, stainless-steel stick inside his cast. She started to get up.

  “No, you don’t. I was put in here to make sure you don’t move.”

  The doors were open and she could hear loud voices. “Is that Aunt Sara?” Her voice was raspy and her throat hurt.

  Jack kept scratching. “Yeah, it is. She’s having a three-way with Flynn and Cotilla.”

  “The detective?”

  “That’s him.” Jack turned to her and seemed to inspect her face. “Flynn is mad at Sara, Cotilla is furious with Flynn, Sara is angry at both of them. They’re having a screaming match, and by the sound of it, our Sara isn’t winning.”

  Kate felt very weak and she suddenly remembered why she was there. Instantly, she started crying, the tears coming from deep inside her. “Did he kill them?” Her whole body was shaking.

  Jack leaned over her, stroking her hair back as he motioned for the EMT to come. “We’ll sort that out later. They can give you a shot to let you sleep. Okay?”

  She nodded. She wanted time to get the image of that man hanging there out of her mind.

  “Good,” Jack said. “When I get you home, I get to undress you and put you to bed. I read about how to do it in one of Sara’s books. I’ll be gentle.”

  As she felt a needle in her arm, she tried to make a saucy reply to him, but her eyes were already beginning to flutter. “Take care of Aunt Sara.”

  “I will.” Jack kissed her forehead. “Just sleep now and dream of chocolate ice cream.”

  “Strawberry,” she whispered, then went to sleep.

  When she awoke again, it was still night. She was in her bed in Aunt Sara’s house and she could hear her phone. It was playing her mother’s favorite song, Bette Midler’s “Wind Beneath My Wings.” Her mother was calling her. Some deep, primal command—inspired by having been her mother’s caretaker for most of her life—made Kate struggle to stand up. Her clothes had been removed and she had on a cotton nightgown. Vaguely, she wondered who and how.

  Her brain was foggy, but she stumbled toward the half-open double doors. She was still in the shadows when she heard Aunt Sara’s loud, angry voice.

  “Ava, I don’t give a crap what you’ve read on the internet! No, you’re not going to talk to her now. She needs rest.” Sara paused. “Yeah? If I’d known what you were putting that child through for all those years, I would have had the law on you. No, I take that back—I would have made you get a job.” She listened. “Stop it! Your melodramatics don’t work on me. You’re about as delicate as a Sherman tank. If you don’t want me telling her the truth about all you’ve hidden from her, then you’ll do just what I tell you. You are going to be compassionate for her. Sympathetic for her. For once in your life you’re going to think of someone besides yourself and that worthless brother of mine. Do I make myself clear?” She waited. “All right. Now go rehearse what you’re going to say to her. And I warn you that if it isn’t loving and caring, tomorrow you’ll be going to job interviews.”

  Kate’s mind was so fuzzy that she wasn’t sure what she’d just heard. Something about her mother and a job. But that made no sense. Her mother’s nerves had never allowed her to hold any job for long.

  As Kate yawned, she glanced into the family room and saw Jack, his hands full of papers and photos. When he looked up and saw her, he was shocked. With a frown, he motioned for her to go back to bed.

  “Of all the gall.” It was Sara’s voice.

  Kate turned away and went back to bed.

  When she awoke again, Jack was in her bedroom and slinging the curtains back so the daylight could come in.

  “You can’t get in bed with me,” she mumbled.

  “Darn! And that’s why I came in here. Other than that, I’m to tell you that you’ve slept the clock around and you need to wake up. Sara and Mom went somewhere, so I thought you and I should catch up.”

  “I have to...” She motioned to