Beach Thriller(34)
“Let me write you a check from my account. Think of it as a personal loan. Just a little something to tide you over, and you can pay me back when the courts release the funds. I’ve worked with your family for years now. I’m sure I can trust you.”
Holly felt elated and pathetic at the same time. She wasn’t holding a paper cup and a cardboard sign at the entrance to a highway, but she wasn’t that far off. “Would you? I’m sorry to take you up on that, but I’m in a tough spot, and no bank will give me a loan when I’m out of contract.”
“Don’t give it another thought,” said Spellman, who pulled his checkbook from a drawer. “I’m happy that the cottage will be loved and cared for.”
She beamed when she saw the amount. It was a loan, so she tried not to feel too guilty. But it was odd that there were literally no strings attached—no paperwork, no agreement to sign, no formal commitment to repay it. Then the adage of not looking a gift horse in the mouth came to mind.
“I can’t thank you enough. I missed Beauport, but it’s been hard not to dwell on the past. This will help me focus more on the future,” she said.
A dark cloud passed across Allen’s face. “Yes … your sister. I’m sorry about that as well. Terrible accident.”
“Or not,” said Holly, almost as an aside.
Allen perked up. “Do you think—?”
Holly’s brief silence filled in the blanks. “I didn’t want to come back. Too many awful memories and not enough closure.”
Allen looked sympathetic. “Being here must be like reopening the wound. But what are you suggesting?”
Holly leaned forward, pressing her elbows against his desk. “You’re this town’s only lawyer.”
Allen brushed off the observation like it was a compliment. “There are three of us, to be precise, but I might be the most well-known.”
“Then you must know the police in town. You’ve probably heard things.” Holly’s voice dipped a degree lower. “I don’t think Anna’s death was an accident,” she said. “And for some reason, the cops gave it the brush-off.”
Allen straightened. “Th-that’s a pretty big claim,” he stuttered. “Do you have any evidence?”
“Call it a gut feeling,” Holly said, her voice subdued. “In my opinion, there were suspects who weren’t properly investigated—powerful people in Beauport.”
The look on Allen’s face all but named those people without saying a word. It was a small town.
“But why would anyone want to harm your sister?” he asked.
Holly decided less was more. “Tom Walker was one of the officers on the case, and I don’t think they were thorough—there were leads they should have followed. They never even learned how the fire started. I saw him the other day and picked up on the not-so-subtle message I’m not welcome in town. Why would that be? I’m guessing Walker thinks I’ve come back to start trouble.”
Allen’s expression softened. “Look, consider me a friend of your family after all this time. I know Tom Walker—and yeah, I’ve heard things. In fact, he’s come under fire recently. I don’t know much about your sister’s death, but I do know Walker is bad news. The details have been kept hush-hush, but his wife left him recently, and I think it’s related to his troubles on the force. I’ll try to get some info for you without being overt.
“But, Holly, believe me when I say the cops in Beauport like to let things lie, if you know what I’m saying. You need to tread very lightly.”
* * *
Holly left Allen’s office feeling much more optimistic. His check would keep Ethan around and Chester fed. Jade, too. The girl was part of her life now. Not only that—talking with Allen had been a big step in confronting her past. And Allen had validated her concerns. Tommy Boy was a crooked cop, and people were catching on.
She knew what she had to do next—go to the police station and ask to look at Anna’s old case file. She needed to see the hard evidence.
Holly marched along the boardwalk with purpose. She’d spent enough time being passive, ignoring the family finances and burying old trauma. She was forty years old, and it was time to get a handle on it all.
As Holly approached the police station, she passed the Bean There Café. The busker was planted outside, singing his sad songs in his horrid off-key tone. He looked up at Holly and stopped mid-chorus.
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he slowed down his strumming and switched to a different song. She recognized the tune immediately, even if his rendition was sorely lacking. She could feel his cold eyes on her as he began to sing “Every Breath You Take” by the Police. She rushed past as fast as she could, his words trailing behind her: “I’ll be watching you…”
Chapter 20
The Watcher
What are you up to, Holly? My guess is no good.
I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and I don’t like what I see. I’ve noticed a newfound determination in your stride. You’re a woman on a mission, that much is obvious.
You didn’t notice that I followed you to the lawyer’s office. I’m assuming you have to make financial arrangements for the house, which looks dreadful. But not for long, right? That handyman will fix it up for you. You could stay there for a long time … unless you keep putting your nose where it doesn’t belong. Then all bets are off.