Twenty-Seven

"Hi." Jack sat down on the side of Kate's bed and held out a plate piled high with blueberry pancakes oozing butter and maple syrup.

She was still mostly asleep. "I can't eat—"

He put a bite in her mouth.

"Just this once." She sat up and took the plate from him.

Jack got up and opened the curtains. It wasn't full daylight yet.

"I take it that you have something to tell me."

"Flynn wants us to come in early so he can tell us things he's not supposed to. Seems that our, uh, contributions to the case are going to be ignored. They don't think we need to know anything."

"They're going to take the credit?"

"Oh, yeah."

Kate held up her fork. "That will keep lookie-loos from wanting me to show them houses just so they can ask murder questions."

Jack smiled. "I like how you find good in bad places."

"Like how my father stole good diamonds from a bad lady?"

"I'm not getting into that." He started to sit down on the little couch, but instead he told Kate to move over, then stretched out on the bed beside her. "I meant for you to scoot this way. Toward me."

She put a bite of pancakes into his mouth. "Tell me what Sheriff Flynn is going to say."

"What they've found so far. We have to do it early because you are to be interrogated all day. Under glaring lights, with nothing to eat or drink for twenty-four hours."

"Bathroom breaks?"

"None."

"Sounds like a day spent with my uncles."

"I've been meaning to ask about them. Why—?"

"One set of psychopaths at a time."

Sara stuck her head in. "Is this a private conversation?"

"Wish it was," Jack said, "but it's not."

"Daryl just sent me a text. They caught Alastair."

"I take it they found some real evidence against him?" Kate said.

Both Sara and Jack looked at her. It wouldn't be good if the only evidence they had was Kate's testimony. Stewart money; Stewart connections; Stewart cold-blooded-killer instinct. They wouldn't have any hesitation about making sure Kate didn't show up to testify.

Sara ran Jack out of Kate's bedroom and told her niece to dress comfortably. It was going to be a long day.

When they got to Sheriff Flynn's office, it was only 7:00 a.m., but he was waiting for them. They took their seats in the chairs on the other side of his desk.

He looked at Kate. "You okay?"

"Never better." She was only lying a little bit. Aunt Sara squeezed her hand. "You didn't by chance do any DNA testing, did you?"

Sheriff Flynn leaned back in his chair and gave a big smile. "And here I thought I'd be able to surprise you with that. We found a red leather makeup case that—"

"Mark Cross," the three said in unison.

Sheriff Flynn looked at a paper on his desk. "That's the brand name, yes. It contained lots of hair samples." He paused for effect. "Hamish Stewart was Cheryl Morris's father." When no one showed surprise, he sighed. "Damn! I was hoping for gasps of shock. At least from two of you."

"Sorry," Kate said, "but last night I kept them up for hours telling them everything."

"She's a very good storyteller," Sara said. "Succinct. Organized."

"I'm not sure if I can follow up what is surely an unbiased opinion," Sheriff Flynn said, "but here's what we've found out. First of all, Evan. Three days before the crash, Alastair Stewart signed in at the library to use a computer. He spent an hour researching how to sabotage the brakes of a 2015 three-quarter-ton Chevy pickup.

"We called Dan Bruebaker's former coach, the one who ran that training weekend in Naples back in 1997. He remembers Alastair Stewart very well. ‘Arrogant SOB' is what he said. Dan Bruebaker told him Alastair had been out all night. Seems Dan had a tummy ache and woke up every few minutes. He saw that his roomie was gone and he told the coach about it. The next day the coach worked Stewart out doubly hard but he never let on that he knew Stewart had been out all night with, they assumed, a girl."

"Good thing the coach said nothing or he might be dead now," Jack said.

"Unfortunately, that's probably true. We ran the video you bought from the guy at the retirement home through facial-recognition software. The gray-haired old woman in a wheelchair and the old woman pushing her were—"

"Alastair and Noreen," Sara said.

"Right. We called Stewart's high-school girlfriend, Delia Monroe. If you guys had called her, you would have found out that she and Cheryl were at one time BFFs. Did I get that abbreviation right?"

Kate nodded.

"They were forbidden friends, so not many people knew. Delia was from a good family, while Cheryl was...you know."

"That's the link," Kate said. "We couldn't find it."

"Stewart sucked up to Delia to get near Cheryl," Jack said.

"Exactly," Sheriff Flynn said. "Then he bullied the poor girl into dropping Cheryl."

"So he could have her all to himself," Sara said. "I guess he liked Cheryl because she dressed like an adult."

"The other way around. He wanted her to dress like that and she did."

"The sick bastard," Jack mumbled.

"The Story of O," Sara said but didn't explain. "I bet you called his ex-wife."

"We did." Sheriff Flynn held up a paper. "Here it is. She sure does hate him! She called him the coldest bastard on the planet. Said he went after her because her father is the CEO of a major corporation. She didn't leave him because she was having an affair as he said she was. She ran away as fast as she could because he wanted her to wear a lot of makeup, silk blouses, tight skirts and four-inch heels. And he was clear that he wanted her to dress like that all the time."

He was disappointed when no one seemed surprised.

"Did you find anything in the box of books?" Sara asked.

"Yes." Sheriff Flynn sighed. He'd been saving that for last. "On top of your books was the tool that Noreen used to stab Verna. She must have tossed it on the ground. Greedy Lester Boggs must have picked it up on Sunday when he took the van. I'm sure the fingerprints on it will match hers." Sheriff Flynn put down the paper. "I've already put in an order to have Hamish's body exhumed, and there will be a lot more searching for evidence. We're building a solid case." He looked at Kate. "You'll have to testify."

She nodded. She dreaded it but she'd do it.

There was a noise behind them and they turned. The Lachlan office was filling with men in uniforms and suits.

"They're going to ask you a lot of questions," the sheriff said to Kate. "You ready for it?"

"I think so. But between us, I feel bad that I didn't see through Alastair. I've tried to remember what information I gave him."

"Nothing that kept him from being found out," the sheriff said. "Now go out there and get some doughnuts. Bessie at the bakery sent them over. She says she owes you big-time for vouching for Alastair Stewart."

"News travels fast," Kate said.

"In Lachlan it does," Sara said with a mix of admiration and disgust. "Come on, let's get this started so we get it over with."

As soon as they entered the main room, Detective Cotilla went to Kate. Jack and Sara put themselves so close to her that they were like pillars holding up a roof. They could collapse on top of the man at any moment.

The detective didn't apologize for the things he'd said before, but he didn't meet Jack's eyes. "We'd like to talk to you, Miss Medlar. If that's all right with you."

"Certainly. But I'd like my aunt to be with me."

"Of course. You've been through a trauma and—"

"And me," Jack said.

"I can't—" Detective Cotilla gritted his teeth. "I will try to get permission."

With a smile, Jack slipped a card into the breast pocket of the detective's suit. It was from the clinic that worked with sexually abused children. "Never needed that." Jack patted the man's pocket.

Detective Cotilla still refused to look at him.

They took only a few steps when the double glass front doors burst open and they heard voices. In came half a dozen officers in uniform. In the middle of them was a handcuffed Alastair Stewart.

He was perfectly groomed, neatly dressed...and furious. His eyes were pits of blue fire. He halted only a few feet from Kate. "You!" he said.

The officers went to the long desk to deal with paperwork, leaving only two men with Alastair.

The roomful of tall, broad-shouldered people paid no attention to five-foot-tall Sara. Only Jack and Sheriff Flynn saw her slip away and disappear behind two lumberjack-sized men in brown.

"You thought there could be something between a Medlar and a Stewart," Alastair said to Kate. "I couldn't even bear to allow you inside my car."

As Sara silently walked past a deputy's desk, she picked up his heavy motorcycle gloves and kept going.

Sheriff Flynn elbowed Jack to quit staring in wide-eyed fascination at whatever the little woman was doing. Don't draw attention to her, he seemed to be saying.

"That's enough," one of the deputies said to Alastair and started to pull him away.

But Sheriff Flynn shook his head. "The man should be allowed to have his say."

Alastair smiled smugly. "Kirkwoods were always our friends." He looked back at Kate. Even though Alastair's hands were handcuffed behind him, he still managed to look triumphant. "Your mundane, plebeian wishes sickened me. To create more Medlars! The earth should be cleansed of people like you."

Behind him, Sara went to the water fountain and picked up a wooden two-step stool. She put the gloves on top and carried the steps to place them just behind Alastair.

One of the bewildered officers started to stop her, but a look from Detective Cotilla made him step back.

Alastair sneered at Jack. "You should have known that I would never have a Wyatt's used goods."

Jack slipped his arm around Kate's shoulders but no one said anything.

Sara climbed up the two steps, put the gloves on, turned sideways, hands up in boxer position. "Hey, Stewart!" She was on his level and very close to him.

When he turned, Sara drew back her arm and used every ounce of muscle she had, from her toes to her neck. She hit him in the face with a right cross powered by rage. The sound of Alastair's nose crunching was so loud that people winced.

With his hands behind him, Alastair was unable to balance and he hit the floor hard. When blood came gushing out of his nose, he couldn't wipe it away.

Like a miniature Rocky at the top of the steps, Sara stood there, her small hands covered in the big leather gloves.

Jack started for her, but Detective Cotilla got there first. He went to help her down, but instead he raised Sara's arm. Sheriff Flynn raised her other arm. She was a fighter who had won the match.

The room erupted in laughter and applause—and a dozen cell phones snapped a photo.

Alastair was on the floor and shouting, but the cheering was so loud that no one heard him. For all that, publicly, no credit was going to be given to them, they all knew the truth. These untrained amateurs had solved a twenty-year-old double homicide and had stopped the killing spree of the Stewart duo. Already, the evil mother and son were becoming infamous.

Jack pushed past Detective Cotilla, put his hands on Sara's waist and swung her down. She threw her arms around him. He hugged her back and kissed the top of her head.

Finally, someone helped Alastair stand up. But no one blotted the blood off his face. "Better let a doctor do that," Sheriff Flynn said.

"I'm going to sue all of you," Alastair said. "I'll destroy this entire department." His eyes were already beginning to blacken, and his voice was thick from the smashed nose. Blood covered the lower half of his face.

The room grew quiet.

"That's your right," Sheriff Flynn said solemnly. "And I'm sure you'll win. Just last month we had our camera system upgraded." He pointed out the eight cameras aimed at the room. "We'll be able to show the jury in high-definition color how this young woman—" he nodded toward Sara "—flattened your ass with one of the best punches of this century. The audio is good, too, so I'm sure they'll enjoy hearing your views on genocide. They'll definitely agree that a murdering Stewart is a better-quality person than a justice-seeking Medlar."

Alastair gave Sheriff Flynn a look of hate but he said nothing.

"Take him somewhere to get cleaned up," the sheriff said to a deputy. "And by the way, Alastair, you are very welcome to sit in my car."

Still chuckling, everyone watched the prisoner being escorted out.

Sheriff Flynn and Detective Cotilla turned to the three of them standing so close together. Sara looked a bit sheepish, but Jack and Kate were smiling so wide their ears were in danger.

"Come on," the detective said to Kate. "Let's talk."

She didn't move.

Detective Cotilla gave a sigh of defeat. "Yeah, okay. All of you."

As they walked toward the room, behind their backs, the detective made some shadow-boxing punches in the air. He grinned all the way to the interrogation room.