Twenty

When they pulled into the driveway of the Morris house, the fading day showed that the back of the house was brightly lit up. "Damn it!" Jack said. "Gil must have sent the new guys. They left the lights on."

Sara got out of the truck, her camera around her neck. "I like it. I'm going to take some photos."

"Did you bring your flash?"

"Why would I need a flash? I have a Fuji." She practically ran to the back, where the bright lights from inside cast eerie shadows.

"You set her up for that one," Kate said.

"I did. Fanatics love their brands." His crutch was caught on something at the side of the truck.

Kate got out the other side. "I'll go get started."

"And leave me here alone to untangle this thing?"

"Yup." The truth was that she was curious to see what had been stored in the garage.

When she got to the door, she realized she didn't have the key. But a narrow crack of light was coming through. Looked like the new men had forgotten to lock it.

She pushed the door open, then threw her arm up to cover her eyes. The lights were on tall stands with three big bulbs on each, and the room seemed to be full of them. Their brilliance blinded her.

She lowered her arm an inch, blinking fast as her eyes adjusted. Through the windows, she could see Jack and Sara around the tall roots of the fallen tree. She was taking photos.

Kate wanted to turn the lights off but Sara needed them.

With both her hands up, Kate walked across the room toward one of the closed bedroom doors. She was only a foot away when she halted.

Very, very slowly, she turned to her left.

In the corner of the room was a man. He was hanging from a rope around his neck. At his feet, a chair was on its side.

Kate didn't think about what she did. She covered the distance to the man in two leaps, bent, threw her arms around his legs and did her best to lift him up. She put her head back and let out a scream that tore at her throat.

Sara and Jack were there in seconds, and they reacted quickly. Sara helped Kate hold the man up—he was quite large—while Jack lifted the chair and climbed on it, his cast-encased leg to one side. He soon had the rope undone and he managed to get off the chair without falling.

They gently lowered the man to the floor and Jack took his pulse, then shook his head.

He was dead.

"Take her out of here," he said to Sara as he got his phone out of his pocket and called 911.

Sara had her arm around Kate's shoulders and was leading her to the door. "Jack." Sara was nodding toward a piece of paper on the floor. It looked like a suicide note. He didn't touch it but quickly took a photo of it on his phone.

Sara led Kate outside, and they sat side by side on the concrete steps.

"We shouldn't have taken him down," Kate whispered. "The police will want to know—"

"We thought there was a chance he was alive."

Jack came out of the house and picked up Sara's camera. "Can you...?"

"Yeah, sure." She got up, took the camera and went inside to photograph everything—especially the man.

Jack sat down by Kate. "You okay?"

She held her hand out straight. It was shaking.

"We can't leave until after the police clear the scene."

She nodded. "I recognized him, Jack. He's the man I saw in town."

"Yes. Dan Bruebaker."

"The man Alastair wanted me to talk to. Why didn't I do it? Alastair was so sure that Dan knew something. I could have—"

Jack put his arm around her shoulders and drew her head onto his shoulder. "You are not allowed to blame yourself about this. You couldn't have prevented it or—"

She pulled away from him. "There was a note, right?"

"Yes." He held out his phone. "I didn't read it."

The sound of sirens reached them.

"Email it to someone," she said quickly. "If the sheriff knows we have a copy, he'll take it."

"Good idea." He tapped a name, sent the message, then erased it from his phone.

In the next second, they stood up because coming toward them was Sheriff Flynn. He had on black trousers, suspenders and a white tuxedo suit—and he was angry.

"Déjà vu," Kate said as she stood there, Jack beside her.

"I ought to arrest both of you!" the sheriff shouted when he was just a few feet away. "Lock you up and throw away the key."

"Just so we're together we can—" Jack began, but Kate elbowed him.

"We are so, so sorry," Kate said. "So very, very sorry."

Smiling, she took a step forward—then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell rather prettily onto the grass. Kate had fainted.