sure. Okay, well, it’s a terrible story. Here’s what I remember. The Kelly family used to live here. Good family. Good people. But then something bad happened to the youngest Kelly boy and nothing was ever the same again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when you live in a small town, where everyone knows everyone else, you feel insulated against the troubles of the world. So when something real bad happens, it shakes people up, makes them realize that they’re not immune to the dangers everyone else faces. Losing that Kelly boy...and never finding the killer...well, it was just too much.”
“His brother was murdered?” Quinn’s eyes bugged. “How awful.”
“And the family picked up and left town as soon as Silas graduated from high school. I heard the family broke up, went in separate directions.”
Quinn thought of the austere air about Silas and pitied the young kid he’d been. That was some rough stuff.
“Do you think there could be any connection between Spencer Kelly’s murder and Rhia Daniels?”
“No, I really doubt it,” Leo answered with conviction. “Whoever did that terrible thing is probably long gone but people who crave closure will grasp at any straw. I can’t blame the man for trying.”
She couldn’t, either.
The gears in her mind were moving quickly, testing out theories and possibilities.
“I imagine if, by some incredible chance, the cases are connected...that would be a pretty amazing coup to solve them both.”
Leo shrugged as if he thought the possibility was far too remote to contemplate and returned to his chowder, pausing to ask, “What’s with all the curiosity? You think you’re going to bust this case wide open and report on it?”
“And if I did?”
“I’d say that’s a helluva long shot.”
Quinn smiled. “That’s okay. I like a challenge.”
Leo’s brief smile felt vaguely patronizing but Quinn let it slide. Everyone was allowed an off day.
Besides, she had bigger fish to fry.
First and foremost...she needed to find a way to get Silas Kelly to trust her.
Given the fact that he seemed to have little respect for the press that would be a challenge indeed.
* * *
Silas felt it prudent to let his brothers know that he was in Port Orion. His call to Shaine went to voice mail—not surprising, Shaine was always undercover somewhere—so he left a brief message and called Sawyer.
Sawyer picked up on the first ring.
“You’re up late,” Silas said, checking his watch. “Working a case?”
“Yeah, possible fiduciary elder abuse case in Wyoming. Pretty sophisticated operation, too. What’s up?”
Silas decided to go straight for the meat. “I’m in Port Orion, working a murder case.”
A beat of silence followed before Sawyer said, “Why? Is it related to Spencer’s case?”
“I don’t know, but the victim was found in Seminole Creek around the same time as the anniversary of Spencer’s murder. Seemed like a good idea to follow up.”
Silas could feel the weight of his brother’s concern from across the line. “You know the likelihood that the two cases are related is very slim,” Sawyer said carefully. “I just don’t want you chasing after a ghost.”
“I’m only here for a few days to sniff things out. If it looks like the cases aren’t connected, I’ll leave.”
“Will you?” Sawyer didn’t sound convinced.
“Of course.”
“Good. Nothing but sadness left in that place. You need to give yourself some closure.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“No, you’re trying to find forgiveness. No one blames you for what happened to Spence.”
Silas struggled for a minute. That familiar choking sensation pressed on his windpipe. He was to blame. It was his fault. “I shouldn’t have left him.”
“You were a kid,” Sawyer said. “Spence should’ve gone home like he was supposed to. No one could’ve known what was going to happen that day.”
Silas knew all the rational arguments—didn’t matter. His guilt still crushed him every day.
And returning to Port Orion had only dredged up those buried feelings.
As if reading his mind, Sawyer asked, “How’s it being back?”
“Weird. Uncomfortable. Sad.”
“Seems about right.”
“Nothing has changed. Everything is as it was. Time doesn’t exist here. Mankins is still the sheriff. He should’ve retired a long time ago.”
Sawyer chuckled. “If it weren’t for Mankins, your ass would’ve landed in jail. He saved your skin more times than I can count.”
That much was true. After Spencer’s death...well, let’s just say that being a good kid hadn’t been big on Silas’s list.
“I went to the crime scene. You know that big rock that we used to jump off from?”
“Yeah.”
“Looks the same. Reminded me of the time Spencer wanted to jump and you didn’t think it was safe, but he did it anyway and then you pushed me off to make sure Spencer was all right.”
Sawyer chuckled at the memory. “Racked your nuts if I recall correctly.”
“Hell, yes. It’ll be a miracle if I can have kids.”
“Well, we all babied Spencer.”
Everyone but Silas. “Yeah, made me jealous. Why did he get special treatment?” he said, half joking but it was difficult to talk about Spencer without sinking into the tar pit of banked grief. Silas returned to the reason he called. “Look, if there’s a chance to solve his murder, I have to take it. My boss thinks I’m chasing after a ghost, too. But I don’t care. My intuition says I have to be here. For whatever reason that may be. But I can’t leave.”
“So tell me about the recent case,” Sawyer said, resigned. “What are the details?”
“Sixteen-year-old girl, popular, pretty. Dumped into Seminole Creek two nights ago. I’m waiting on the autopsy report to see if there were any trace forensics that I can compare to Spencer’s case.”
“No preliminary cause of death?”
“Hand
