aloud, his voice soft and mellifluous.
“Who did this?” Kirstie growled loudly enough to make Data jump.
Lynley blinked. Sweet Kirstie Marshall became Mama Bear right there in front of everyone. Her eyes darkened like stormy skies beneath lowering brows. Lynley had seen it often, and though she’d been walking in terror since finding the note, she felt Mom’s strength reach out and engulf her.
* * *
John studied mother and daughter with admiration. Lynley had been touched by God’s grace when He gave her Kirstie Marshall for a mother. Though Lynley seldom spoke about her father, others had told him tidbits about Kirstie’s late husband. Ugly man. Kirstie had the courage of a fighter along with a tender mother’s touch. Lynley had obviously inherited all her best traits from Kirstie.
“Someone’s after your money, Kirstie.” Gerard’s deep voice rumbled through the spacious living room.
She looked up at him, eyes still dark and angry. “Barry seems to be stretching his big ol’ greedy, bony hands from the grave. He always wanted Uncle Lawson’s millions.” She winced, then tapped her fingers to her lips and looked at Lynley. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry to speak ill of your father.”
“You’ve always taught me to tell the truth. Why shouldn’t you do the same?”
John caught Gerard’s attention over the heads of the two women. “Your thoughts?”
“We can all agree that this note was written to imply that an angry plaintiff from the trial is still fighting for retribution,” Gerard said.
John nodded, glad to know he and Gerard were thinking the same thing.
Kirstie’s cell phone beeped its text chime. She ignored it. Lynley reached into her mother’s purse, pulled out the phone and handed it to her.
Kirstie waved it away. “We have more important things to talk about right now.”
“And someone knows where you live. They might know more.”
With a sigh, Kirstie took the phone and punched a button. Her eyes narrowed with renewed fury while she read. Her hand trembled.
Gerard took it from her. He read the text, then closed his eyes with a groan.
John grabbed the phone and looked at the text while Lynley read it aloud over his shoulder. “‘You’re a fool if you think I don’t know what kind of car your chief of police drives. You just shortened your daughter’s life. Get me the money before New Year’s Eve or she will die. You’re wasting time. Enjoy the muffins on your front porch. They’ll be your daughter’s last.’”
John had no clue about where the text had originated, but he could easily predict that if it were possible to call and have it tracked, it would have come from the woods to the east of the house—perhaps down closer to the creek. “Whoever wrote this was at the front of the house sometime after I arrived but before I brought in the muffins. They apparently haven’t been watching all this time because they’re writing to you, Kirstie.”
“This is simply meant to frighten us,” Gerard said. “We can’t let that happen. Every resident in Jolly Mill knows the truth—that Lawson Barnes bequeathed everything to our center, and nothing ever went to Kirstie.”
“So that can help us narrow down our suspects,” John said. “Kirstie, why don’t you start calling friends and bring them in on this? Spread the word. In a tiny place like Jolly Mill, the more eyes we have on strangers sneaking through town, the more likely we are to catch this—”
Kirstie nodded, her delicate chin jutting out with determination. “I’ll call Nora first, of course, then Carmen.”
John nodded. Kirstie Marshall was already planning. Her love for her daughter was one of her strongest assets.
Gerard frowned at the initial note. “This writer has been scanning information from the media. They were the ones who spread the lie far and wide that Lynley, a much-publicized defendant in the lawsuit, stood to inherit millions of dollars from a dead uncle.” His lip curled in disgust. “Isn’t it always about the money?”
“So we’re all in agreement that we can rule out the plaintiffs in the malpractice trial.” John looked at Lynley, then Gerard and Kirstie.
Gerard scrunched his flint-carved face. “We aren’t working with absolutes right now. Not yet, anyway. I wouldn’t rule it out, but their motive is greed. Somehow we need to convince this individual that there are no deep pockets for them to dig into.”
John agreed. It was too soon to choose one direction to investigate. He’d seen bad results those times his colleagues made a judgment too early and let the real culprit get away.
Kirstie held the red-and-green note up by the tip of her thumb and finger, as if it might be contagious. “You’re right. Someone knows that threatening my only child is the quickest way to get to me.” She dropped the paper on the coffee table. “They don’t know who they’re dealing with, do they, sweetheart?” She nudged her daughter with her elbow.
Lynley nudged back. “Love you, too, Mom.”
“Lynley,” Gerard said, “we’re not letting anybody near you.”
“We can’t rule out Jolly Mill and rehab center residents altogether,” John said, “but I’m mostly working on the premise that this has to be someone from out of town.”
Gerard’s phone chimed, and he grabbed it and flipped it open. “Megan? You have news already, honey?”
John watched his friend’s face as the charmed expression—the one he always wore when talking to his beloved wife—turned to stone once more.
“Blue car? What kind?” He listened some more, nodding as if his wife could see him. “Okay, hon. Thanks. That should help.”
After he disconnected he turned to them, grim faced. “Mrs. Drews, who lives down by the Baptist church, was walking to work this morning when she saw a blue car park at the old Bethel Church on the road past the edge of town, so it was too far away to see what kind of car it was. Someone in a hoodie walked across the field toward the woods and went right through Capps Creek. Must’ve been wearing high waders.”
“Then that’s who I saw,” John said.
“Could she tell if it was male or female?” Lynley asked.
“All we know is that someone’s serious about this thing,” John said. “We’d better start circling the wagons.”
* * *
Lynley felt dizzy. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the sofa.
A soft hand pressed against her arm. “Sweetheart, why don’t you go lie down for a little bit.” It was Mom’s gentle voice.
Lynley opened her eyes and saw the three of them watching her with concern. She’d expect this kind of attention from her mother, but from two big, tough men with work to do and bad guys to catch? It scared her a little that they were so worried about her.
“The best way to keep Lynley safe is to find this person before
