waiting for my pulse to slow. A minute, maybe two ticked by. Then with a deep breath, I listed in my mind what I had to do. Comfort Mom. Call the nearest FBI office and complain—loudly—about the two men. Offer the further “Raleigh” information to another agent who’d show some respect. Make dinner. In that order.
I rose to head toward Mom’s room—and the phone rang. I veered into the kitchen and picked up the receiver, too distracted to check the ID. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Shire, this is Deputy Harcroft from the Sheriff’s Department Coastside Patrol. We met this afternoon at the scene of the accident.”
Great, the man I’d lied to. Now I’d have to fix it. Maybe in the midst of his accusing me of murder. “Yes, I remember. Two FBI agents just left here. They told me Morton died at the hospital. That he was stabbed. I don’t know anything about that.”
Silence pulsed over the line. “FBI agents?”
“They weren’t nice at all, I can tell you that. I had to practically throw them out of my house.”
“What were their names?”
“Samuelson and Rutger. They didn’t give me first names.”
“Did they show you badges?”
“And name tags with their pictures on them.”
“What did they want?”
“They demanded to know what I’d seen at the accident. What Morton had told me, if anything.”
Harcroft paused. “I need to check this out and call you right back. Will you be home?”
Good grief, what now? “Yes. Okay.”
I hung up the phone—and heard Mom calling my name. She sounded distraught.
“Coming!” On the way to her room I pushed aside my own feelings. No need to upset Mom more. I nudged open her door and found her still sitting in her chair. “You all right?”
She nodded. “Just sad.”
“I’m sad too.”
“Now we can’t visit Morton in the hospital.”
“No, afraid not.”
“Now we have to find his daughter all by ourselves.”
Oh. I was hoping she’d forgotten. “We don’t know he was talking about a daughter, Mom.”
“Of course we do. He said so.”
“He only said—”
“She lives in Raleigh. North Carolina.”
I sighed. “Yeah. I know.” Maybe by tomorrow morning she’d forget this.
She pushed up her lower lip. “I’m getting kinda hungry.”
“I’ll make dinner, okay?”
“Chicken sounds good. And some potatoes. A good potato always make me feel better.”
I managed a smile. “I know.”
The phone rang. The deputy? “Sorry, Mom, I need to answer that.”
Back in the kitchen I snatched up the receiver. “Hello.”
“It’s Deputy Harcroft.” He sounded grim. “Did you see what kind of car those men were driving?”
“Some kind of brown sedan.”
“Any chance you noticed the license plate?”
“No. Not at all.”
“And you said they showed you official badges.”
The deputy’s tone unsettled me. “Yes. Why, what’s going on?”
“Mrs. Shire, we need to bring you in right away and talk to you about this. Mr. Morton was a very important man. I have no idea who those two men who came to your house are, but they’re not FBI agents.”
Chapter 6
I dropped the receiver into its cradle and sagged against the counter. “Not FBI.”
Then who were they?
I should have known. The way they acted, forceful and menacing. Rutger—or whatever his real name was—wanting me to see his gun.
I’d given them a copy of the video. They seemed to see right through my lie that I’d never watched it. Would that somehow put me in danger? And Mom?
An even worse thought hit me. What if those menhad killed Morton? What if they’d come here to learn if I’d seen something? If Morton had told me about them.
Had I convinced them I didn’t know anything?
“I can assure you we’ll be back.”
Dear God, help us.
Before I’d hung up from Deputy Harcroft’s call I told him about giving the men a copy of the flash drive. And I told him about Rutger’s gun and threats. At that, a long pause followed.
“Tell you what.” Harcroft’s
I rose to head toward Mom’s room—and the phone rang. I veered into the kitchen and picked up the receiver, too distracted to check the ID. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Shire, this is Deputy Harcroft from the Sheriff’s Department Coastside Patrol. We met this afternoon at the scene of the accident.”
Great, the man I’d lied to. Now I’d have to fix it. Maybe in the midst of his accusing me of murder. “Yes, I remember. Two FBI agents just left here. They told me Morton died at the hospital. That he was stabbed. I don’t know anything about that.”
Silence pulsed over the line. “FBI agents?”
“They weren’t nice at all, I can tell you that. I had to practically throw them out of my house.”
“What were their names?”
“Samuelson and Rutger. They didn’t give me first names.”
“Did they show you badges?”
“And name tags with their pictures on them.”
“What did they want?”
“They demanded to know what I’d seen at the accident. What Morton had told me, if anything.”
Harcroft paused. “I need to check this out and call you right back. Will you be home?”
Good grief, what now? “Yes. Okay.”
I hung up the phone—and heard Mom calling my name. She sounded distraught.
“Coming!” On the way to her room I pushed aside my own feelings. No need to upset Mom more. I nudged open her door and found her still sitting in her chair. “You all right?”
She nodded. “Just sad.”
“I’m sad too.”
“Now we can’t visit Morton in the hospital.”
“No, afraid not.”
“Now we have to find his daughter all by ourselves.”
Oh. I was hoping she’d forgotten. “We don’t know he was talking about a daughter, Mom.”
“Of course we do. He said so.”
“He only said—”
“She lives in Raleigh. North Carolina.”
I sighed. “Yeah. I know.” Maybe by tomorrow morning she’d forget this.
She pushed up her lower lip. “I’m getting kinda hungry.”
“I’ll make dinner, okay?”
“Chicken sounds good. And some potatoes. A good potato always make me feel better.”
I managed a smile. “I know.”
The phone rang. The deputy? “Sorry, Mom, I need to answer that.”
Back in the kitchen I snatched up the receiver. “Hello.”
“It’s Deputy Harcroft.” He sounded grim. “Did you see what kind of car those men were driving?”
“Some kind of brown sedan.”
“Any chance you noticed the license plate?”
“No. Not at all.”
“And you said they showed you official badges.”
The deputy’s tone unsettled me. “Yes. Why, what’s going on?”
“Mrs. Shire, we need to bring you in right away and talk to you about this. Mr. Morton was a very important man. I have no idea who those two men who came to your house are, but they’re not FBI agents.”
Chapter 6
I dropped the receiver into its cradle and sagged against the counter. “Not FBI.”
Then who were they?
I should have known. The way they acted, forceful and menacing. Rutger—or whatever his real name was—wanting me to see his gun.
I’d given them a copy of the video. They seemed to see right through my lie that I’d never watched it. Would that somehow put me in danger? And Mom?
An even worse thought hit me. What if those menhad killed Morton? What if they’d come here to learn if I’d seen something? If Morton had told me about them.
Had I convinced them I didn’t know anything?
“I can assure you we’ll be back.”
Dear God, help us.
Before I’d hung up from Deputy Harcroft’s call I told him about giving the men a copy of the flash drive. And I told him about Rutger’s gun and threats. At that, a long pause followed.
“Tell you what.” Harcroft’s
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