Cecelia had thrown down the gauntlet. Whatever she and her family were hiding, she was daring Finley to find it.
Her cell vibrated with an incoming text. She dragged her attention away from the house and checked the screen. Mickey. Her contact at Riverbend. He’d sent the image of the woman who’d visited Holmes. Unfortunately, it was a little grainy, and the woman wasn’t looking directly at the camera. The baseball cap she wore didn’t help. But something about her chin and the angle of her jaw was vaguely familiar.
Finley turned her attention back to the house.
Cecelia had predicted that something was coming.
A warning? Or a game?
Maybe both.
Finley suspected that whichever it was, she and Jack weren’t going to like it.
As she approached the gate, it opened, and she drove through. She braked before pulling out onto the street. She looked right and then back to the left.
A man stood outside her window.
Finley jumped. Caught her breath. Had he been walking by and she hadn’t noticed? Jesus, she could have run him over.
He leaned down and stared at her through the glass. His head was clean shaven, his running suit a spiffy blue.
She powered her window down just a couple of inches. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
He grinned. There was something about the expression that set her on edge.
“Charlie said to tell you you’re getting warmer, Finley.”
He jogged around the hood of her car and sprinted away.
This was her second message from a follower of Holmes.
Apparently she was getting warmer.
Good to know.
17
Noon
The Murder House
Shelby Avenue
Nashville
Another ring echoed along the line.
It was Saturday. Most people were out shopping or simply doing all the things they couldn’t do during the week because of work. Finley paced the length of her living room and waited through another ring.
“Hello.”
Thank God. “Hey. Sandy—it’s Finley.”
“Oh, hey, Fin. What’s up?”
Sandy Woods wasn’t exactly a friend. More an acquaintance. They’d attended the same high school but never traveled in the same circles. Sandy worked in the county clerk’s office. She’d been there since graduating from business college with an associate degree in administration. One of the benefits of working in the DA’s office was learning about all sorts of resources within local government.
“I have a question, but if you’re in the middle of something or whatever, I can call you later.” Finley crossed her fingers and hoped for the right response.
Eric Houser’s revelation had been steadily nagging at her. Ignoring it any longer just wasn’t possible.
“I was just about to sit down for lunch.”
Finley made a face. “I’ll call later, then. I don’t want to interrupt your lunch.” She mouthed a few curse words. Resisted the urge to stamp her feet.
“No, it’s all right. It’s only a peanut butter sandwich. It can wait.”
Finley executed an air punch. “Thank you. I really appreciate it. I’m trying to locate the previous owner of my house.” She hissed out an exaggerated sigh. “Since my husband’s death I haven’t been able to get organized. Anyway, I just need to contact the previous owner to check on a couple of things.”
“You can look that up very easily,” Sandy explained. “You just go on the tax assessor’s website.”
“Awesome. Is there a log-in or password I need?”
“Property records are public information, so no. Hold on and I’ll look it up for you.”
“Wow. That would be great.” Finley relaxed a fraction, but her heart continued its anxious pounding.
Derrick wouldn’t lie to her. There had to be a mistake. Or an explanation.
“Let me get to my computer.”
“Sure. Sure.”
Finley resumed her pacing as she waited. Her nerves jangled, ratcheting up the tension again.
“Okay, here we go,” Sandy said. “What’s your street address?”
Finley provided the info, suddenly realizing she needed to write this down. She hurried to the sofa and dug her spiral from her bag. Poked around for a pen and then collapsed on the floor, pen in the ready position.
“The previous owner was Ted Walker.” Sandy called off his address of record. “There’s no telephone number.”
“The address is perfect.” Now for the big question. “What was the date of sale? From Walker to Reed? My husband bought the place before we married.”