Three

Kate followed Alastair in his sleek blue BMW out of the downtown into the suburban area. It was pristine. Pretty houses with even prettier gardens. The houses all had a Florida flavor: porches, verandas, a strong Spanish influence. Big trees, especially palms, moved in the breeze. Here and there were small specialty shops. There was a café with outdoor tables under umbrellas. She could see why people who lived in busy Fort Lauderdale would come here to spend an afternoon and leisurely shop and dine. And, of course, tourists would love to see a glimpse of "old Florida."

Even though they weren't going on a direct route, she tried to memorize the street names—work was always on her mind. On the floor of the passenger side of her car was a box of business cards she'd had printed. It would be presumptuous to hand them out before she'd met Tayla, but she'd been tempted in the tea shop.

They drove down Coral Gate, Palm Bay, then around Lime Key Circle before finally turning onto Stewart Lane. Kate saw why her GPS hadn't listed it. It was so private that the US Postal Service probably classified it as a driveway.

There was what looked to be a tiny guesthouse at the end of the road. Past it, the main house was nestled behind old, tall palm trees. To someone who'd survived many Chicago winters, it was an exotic landscape.

As Alastair drove slowly around the paved, circular drive, she saw him watching her in his rearview mirror. No matter what he said, he must have felt bad at losing his ancestral home.

It was a truly beautiful house—long, low and as Spanish as if it was in Barcelona. There was a bay with round-topped windows at one side, a magnificent front door with huge iron handles and more tall windows at the far end.

Alastair stopped his car but stayed inside. Kate turned off the ignition, got out and went to him.

He rolled down the window. "I'll leave you here. Everyone in town knows that Ms. Medlar likes her privacy. You don't enter unless you're invited."

She thought how all the stories of rich old women being bamboozled by their employees involved isolation. "Thanks for telling me. And wish me luck."

"That I do. Looks like they're expecting you. The front door is open."

She looked toward the entrance and saw a three-inch gap left by the open door.

"So it is." She stepped back from his car.

"Mind if I call you tonight to see how things went?" he asked.

"Please do."

He smiled at her in encouragement, then slowly drove back down the drive. Kate got the flowers and fruit out of her car, went to the front door, straightened her shoulders and rang the bell.

No response. She waited, did it again, waited. Still no one.

Tentatively, she pushed the door wide-open. "Hello?"

She stepped into a beautiful foyer with a triple tray ceiling. A crystal chandelier hung above a marble floor that was a swirl of cream and pale coffee. She put the flowers and fruit basket on a stone-topped table that was against the wall.

In front of her was a pretty living room with a big blue Oriental rug, double couches of light blue and two chairs in navy toile.

As she stepped forward, what struck her the strongest was the light. In every direction she looked, there were floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside were palm trees and a wide body of water. Beautiful! To her left was a hall with a skylight. To her right were closed double doors that she thought probably led to the master suite.

Was her aunt Sara in there? Possibly with a caretaker? Or maybe a nurse?

The house was silent but it didn't feel empty. But then, with that much light, it couldn't feel anything but part of the world.

She went toward the hallway, walking quietly. She knew she was snooping but her love of houses was an irresistible force. There was a dining room with an antique table, and chairs upholstered in a pretty print of flowers and vines.

The kitchen was big and cheerful. From the appliances and the trays full of oils and the giant spice rack, it looked like someone liked to cook.

Across from the kitchen was a glass wall that enclosed a breakfast table. The view was of a big swimming pool and a paved courtyard, plus a screened-in area.

Open to the kitchen was a large family room with a TV the size of a highway billboard. There was a huge couch with colorful pillows.

To the left was a pair of open double doors. "Is anyone here?" she asked.

When there was no answer, she went into what appeared to be a suite, possibly the one her aunt said would be Kate's. One end of the living room was all glass and looked out to see a bit of lawn and the pretty canal. A gray-green iguana that had to be six feet long was lying under a clump of palms. Near him were four smaller bright green lizards. Two long-legged white birds—the kind she'd seen only in zoos—were pecking at the grass. They all turned to look at Kate, seeming to ask why she was in their territory. Unafraid, unmoving.

"Well, Kate," she said aloud, "you're not in Kansas anymore."

Down the hall, she passed two walk-in closets that flanked a bathroom tiled in shades of cream. At the end was a bedroom with a white bed with a light blue spread. The French doors at the far end had blinds on them. When she lifted one, she saw a walled courtyard. Very private. It had a brick-paved floor, and there were big flower beds full of plants that in Chicago could only be grown indoors. In the center was a fountain with a dark green sculpture of a girl dancing in the rain. It was so pretty that it took her minutes to take it all in. This courtyard was off what could possibly be her bedroom.

In the far corner was a raised flower bed filled with thick palms that had long, slender tendrils. Below it, in the shade, was a man in a T-shirt stretched out on a chaise longue. He had in earbuds and a light blanket covering his legs. His eyes were closed.

She was sure he was Jack Wyatt—and it was easy to see what people seemed to like about him. Black hair that was on the long side, black whiskers, sharp cheekbones. He did indeed look like a very handsome criminal.

Not her type at all.

When she opened the door, it made no sound, but that didn't matter. If he hadn't heard the doorbell over whatever he was listening to, he wouldn't hear a door.

As soon as she stepped outside, she heard an odd sound, like something pounding. She couldn't identify it.

As she walked toward the man, she wondered what to say to him. Are you exploiting my aunt? Taking the poor woman for all she's worth? Not a good introduction. She needed to find out the truth before she started making accusations.

When she was two feet away, he turned to look at her. He had very dark eyes. "You must be Kate. Sorry I didn't make it to the door." He removed the earbuds. "But I left it unlocked for you."

The pounding continued. There was a chair nearby and Kate sat down. "Is this the apartment I'm supposed to take?" She motioned to the doors.

"Yeah. You like it?"

"Very much."

"Sara will be glad. She drove everyone mad planning it. You have any trouble finding the place?"

"I met Alastair Stewart in town and followed him in my car."

Jack gave a little smile. "I heard he was back. Did he ask you on a date yet?"

"He did, actually. We go out on Saturday." Kate settled back in the chair.

Something about the warm, balmy air was peaceful. And oddly, this man made her feel calm—the exact opposite of Alastair.

"I knew he wouldn't waste any time. He's a good guy, though. A little too old and a little too perfect, but he's okay. Who else did you meet?"

"Melissa at Tayla's office."

He gave a snort of laughter. "If you sell houses and get along with Tayla, she'll be jealous."

"She already is—because of you. If you're Jack, that is."

"I am and you're right. She follows me around town. Who else?"

The pounding kept on. It wasn't a regular rhythm. It went fast, stopped, then slowed. "Bessie at the tea shop."

"She loves all things Stewart. Thinks they're royalty."

"I can see that." Kate closed her eyes and held her face up to the warmth.

Contrary to what she'd dreaded, she felt like she was talking to someone she'd known for a long time. "How is my aunt?" She prepared herself to hear the worst.

"Sounds like she's doing well."

"What does that mean?"

When he looked at her, he seemed to be puzzled by her expression. But then he turned back to face the fountain. "Today she's hitting something besides me."

"Oh." Kate's eyes widened. "Does she hit you because of her bad temper?"

Jack looked shocked. "Bad temper? What in the world have you been told about her?"

Kate didn't answer.

"I know that look! It's just like hers. You aren't going to tell me, so you'll just have to go and meet her for yourself. Go back through those doors and out through the living room. I'd go with you, but—" He tossed the blanket back to expose his left leg, which was in a cast that reached above his knee.

His drunken car wreck, Kate thought, but didn't say. She went through the apartment, then outside past an outdoor kitchen. The swimming pool was in front of her and to the right—under the deep roof overhang, she saw a woman from the back. She was wearing red boxing gloves and slamming away at a big leather bag. Her pounding reverberated through the house.

The woman was short, trim and obviously strong. She had blond hair that was wet with sweat in the back. Who was this? she wondered. A caretaker for her aunt Sara?

Kate was about to speak when one of the sliding doors between her and the woman was thrown open.

Jack stood there, leaning on crutches, and he was looking at the woman. "Juan just called and that big poinciana came down. I have to go see about it. You want to shoot it?"

"Damn right I do! Oh." She saw Kate and halted, staring at her.

Jack hobbled to the woman—he wasn't good on the crutches—and she held out her arms so he could pull off her big boxing gloves. "Kate, Sara. Sara, Kate." He looked to Kate. "You wanna go with us?"

"You're Sara?" Kate asked. The woman was older but she certainly didn't look to be in her late sixties. "But I thought... I mean..."

Sara nodded. "Ava told you about me, right?"

"Yes. She said—"

"Can you two do this later? If that tree hit the roof, I need to get the men to fix it. It might rain today."

"It's Florida," Sara said. "It's always about to rain. Maybe Kate wants to freshen up or maybe I should stay here so we can talk. Or—"

Jack turned his back on them and started into the house. "Stay here and write a novel about it for all I care. I'm going to go see the damages. I bet those roots are huge. I'll take some cell-phone photos for you."

"Cell phone! You blasphemer," Sara called out, then looked at Kate. "If you want to stay here and get acquainted, we can."

"Houses, fallen trees. They're right up my alley," Kate said. "Let's go. We have plenty of time to catch up."

Sara's eyes lit up and she smiled big. "Wait for us," she called after Jack. "I have to get my camera."

"I'll wait five minutes," Jack replied from inside the house. "Then I'm leaving."

"It'll take him ten minutes to get into the truck." Sara hesitated only a second, then started running into the house.

Kate didn't know whether to follow her or try to find the garage. She went after her aunt.

The double doors leading into Sara's bedroom were open, so she followed her aunt in. To the right was the bathroom and Sara's voice came from there. "I've got to peel off these sweaty clothes. Would you get my camera? Everything is in that black backpack by the bed."

Kate went into the bedroom, which was all soft blues and pale greens, with an off-white carpet. There was a glassed-in sitting area that looked out to the canal.

"Done!" Sara said from the hall.

She had on black pants and a pink polo shirt, and she looked good. Kate grabbed the camera bag and hurried into the foyer.

Jack had dropped the flowers into a vase full of water. He was leaning on his crutches and rummaging through the fruit basket Kate had brought. He held up an orange in an almost threatening way. "This is the basis of our Florida economy."

"Quit complaining and let's go," Sara said. "Or are you waiting for me to pick you up and put you in the truck?"

"There are some women who'd like that." Jack was stuffing the pockets of his baggy pants full of fruit. "I'll save these for later and maybe Kate will want some."

"If you want a bunch of bananas or whatever," Sara said, "you could always go to the grocery and get some."

Kate was standing back and watching them. Nothing could be more different from what she'd expected. Jack didn't seem like the predator she'd thought he was, and her aunt Sara didn't seem anywhere near ill or senile. She certainly wasn't overweight, as Kate had been expecting. And she didn't appear to have lost any of her intelligence.

But it was too early to make conclusions. Jack had opened the garage door to reveal a Chevy pickup so ratty it looked like it had been used to haul gravel for state roads.

Sara opened the passenger door. "You get the middle."

"That's so she can shoot out the window." Jack tossed his crutches into the back, then struggled to get up and into the cab.

Kate scrambled in and Sara took the other side.

As he pulled out, the three of them were silent—and it was awkward. There was such a newness about them, a feeling of knowing so little about one another that they couldn't begin. I was born in...? Did she start there?

"So," Kate said, "are you two lovers?" It was such a ridiculous question that she hoped to make them laugh. But when they were silent, she began to wonder if her sense of humor wasn't the same as theirs.

Sara was the first to laugh, then Jack gave a chuckle.

"I'm more like his babysitter," Sara said with a grin, and Kate was pleased.

"Hey—you want me to move out, just let me know," Jack said.

"Then who would eat all the fruit?" Kate asked.

"Oh, no," Jack groaned. "There can't be two of you. I didn't think the world could hold more than one."

Kate stared at his profile.

"Two people who make jokes about everything," he explained.

"When you grow up without humor, you need to make your own." The second she said it, Kate knew it was a mistake. Too serious, too soon. What was the matter with her today? She needed to change the subject quickly. "So where are we going?"

"We bought—"

"We bought—"

Jack and Sara spoke in unison. He nodded for Sara to go ahead. "You're the storyteller."

"We bought six houses before Tayla could devour them and dehumanize them," Sara said. "I'm thinking of parking pickups in front of ours. We'll put plastic in the beds. Redneck swimming pools."

"My job is with Tayla," Kate said seriously, "and I like what she's done with the town."

"So does she," Jack said, nodding toward Sara. "But she and Tayla aren't besties."

"Understatement," Sara muttered.

When Kate looked at her in question, Sara waved her hand. "Old high-school feud that never died."

"At least not from your side," Jack said.

"Anyway," Sara said, "Jack and I are going to design the remodels on the houses we bought and his crew will do the work, then Ivy will decorate."

"Ivy?"

"My half sister." There was a quiet tone to his voice.

Kate started to say something but she glanced at his cast. His brother had been killed in that crash.

Kate's handbag was between her and Jack. When she felt her phone buzz and looked at the ID, she took it out of the side pocket. "I have to take this. It's my mother and she'll worry." And if I don't answer, she will drive me insane, she thought.

"Mom!" she said with exaggerated cheerfulness. "How are you?"

Ava erupted loudly, and in rapid-fire. "How are you? Has she yelled at you yet? Is she bedridden? Are her servants stealing everything? Do you have a clean room? Maybe you should get an apartment and I'll come stay with you."

To Kate's horror, she could see by the rigid faces of Sara and Jack that they could hear every word. "Mom!" she said loudly. "I'm fine."

"Don't let her bully you. That's what she always did to me. She likes to get her way and—"

Kate knew she had to distract her mother. "I met a man. I really like him. He's—"

"Through her? I don't think—"

"No!" Kate kept her eyes straight ahead, although she was seeing nothing. She couldn't hang up on her mother. Doing that would send her into a depression. "His name is Alastair Stewart and he's gorgeous. Like a tall blond Viking. You'd really like him."

Ava gasped. "You talked to a stranger?"

"Not until after he'd had people introduce him to me. He grew up here and everyone knows him."

"Wait! Did you say Stewart? Your father told me about them. The family owns that town."

Kate blinked a few times. Her mother never mentioned her father in that casual way. "Yes, it's the same family."

"Do you have a date with him?"

"This Saturday. He doesn't live here now but he's thinking of moving back."

"That's good," Ava said. "He'll be a safety net for you when she gets too bad."

"Uh, listen, Mom, I need to go. I start my job tomorrow and I need to look over the listings. I love you!"

"Yes, but, Katie, honey, I need to be sure that you're safe."

"I am very safe. 'Bye, Mom." She touched the button, turned off the sound and put her phone away.

Kate stared out the truck window. She was embarrassed down to her bone marrow. "I, uh, I apologize for—"

"No need," Sara said brightly. "I know your mother quite well. What do you think of this part of town?"

Quite well?Why had she never been told any of this? It took Kate a minute to recover enough to be able to see what was around them. It was difficult to believe that this was part of the perfectly manicured Lachlan that she'd seen. Houses with broken porches, roofs with blue plastic covering holes, weeds, two dogs fighting, crumbling sidewalks. This wasn't the result of a hurricane, just plain old-fashioned poverty.

"This area is where Jack's grandfather and I grew up," Sara said. "We were next-door neighbors."

Jack and Sara smiled at each other across Kate in a way that showed they shared both memories and secrets.

"We're here," Sara said as Jack pulled into a weed-infested driveway. The house was in bad repair but Kate could see its potential. Add a little entry porch, repair the windows, paint...it could be nice.

Sara picked up her big black camera bag, got out of the truck and went past the house to the back.

Kate started to get out but Jack turned to her. He looked serious.

"I don't think you should take more calls from your mother in front of Sara. She doesn't need to hear more of that."

He looked like he was bracing himself for a fight, but Kate said, "I agree. I feel bad that she heard that. It won't happen again."

Jack seemed surprised at her answer, and he gave a smile. "Bet you think this place should be bulldozed."

"Are you kidding? I could make that house so cute that one look at it and you'd turn into a girl."

When Jack laughed, it was so contagious that Kate joined him. She was startled to see Sara in the driveway photographing them through the windshield.

"Don't mind her. She's always doing that. She's trying to replace writing novels with a photography obsession. She needs to be addicted to something." He struggled to get out of the truck and winced when his left leg hit the ground.

Kate got out the other side, still smiling. Maybe it was from a lifetime of dealing with her mother's up-and-down moods, but she was glad that no one was angry at her. Her mother's comments must have stung Sara, but she'd been nice about it.

She followed Jack down the driveway and to the back of the house, then halted when she saw the tree. It was huge. Not big—enormous. It was on its side, delicate greenery spread on the ground. It was lushly covered in beautiful red blooms. The wide, shallow roots were standing upright, taller than a person. Sara was moving around it, taking what seemed to be a thousand photos.

"Shame." Jack was looking at the tree. "I knew it was in bad shape, but still..."

"Even now, it's beautiful."

"It is. But the rain and disease were too much for the old lady." He turned. "At least it missed the house. Small favors."

Sara returned to the roots and the wide, deep hole it had made. "Kate, would you mind stepping down in there so I can get a size comparison? I'd ask him, but..." She shrugged.

"She wants you because you're smaller than me, so the thing will look bigger," Jack said. "She likes dramatic photos."

Kate replied before Sara did. "More likely, you're so clumsy that you'd fall face-first into the roots. We'd have to use a block and tackle to get you out." She had to almost jump down into the hole, as it was deeper than her knees.

Sara was looking at her niece oddly, as though she couldn't believe what she'd just said.

"You're ridiculing a wounded man," Jack said. "Before this—" he tapped his cast "—I could pole-vault that thing."

Smiling, Kate started through the mud but it was so deep that it went over her sandals. She pulled them off, then tossed them toward Jack. He caught one—and got mud over his hand and arm. "Thanks a lot, Red."

She blinked at the nickname, even though it was a familiar one. Red-haired people were always called Red by someone.

While Jack was hobbling away to get the other sandal, Kate moved closer to the roots. On the last step, the mud sucked at her bare feet and made her fall forward. She barely missed having her face smack into the tree roots. As it was, her movement loosened a bunch of dirt and gravel. She crossed her arms over her head to keep from getting hit as it poured down the slope.

With the giant tree root behind her, she stepped back until she could feel it touching her. More dirt and gravel fell. She looked at Sara with her camera. "I hope you can do this fast or I might find myself buried in here. My hair is already caught on something." She reached up to loosen it, but it was wrapped tightly. Whatever was holding it didn't feel like a tree branch, but was smooth and hard.

"I'm very fast." Sara clicked, then stepped to the left. Suddenly, she stopped, moved the camera from her eye and looked at Kate. "Stand right there and don't move." Her voice sounded as though she was warning someone crossing a minefield.

"Is everything all right?" Kate asked.

"Don't move!"

Jack had picked up Kate's other sandal. At Sara's tone he pivoted on his crutches to look at her, then stared, wide-eyed, his face drained of color. "Stand very still," he said softly. There was a tone of reassurance in his voice, one that said, "Trust me."

Kate obeyed both of them. She froze where she was. Rigid.

She watched as Jack moved to the edge of the pit and seemed about to climb inside it.

"You can't—" the women said in unison.

Jack didn't take his eyes off Kate and plastered on a smile of reassurance. "You're too small to go." His words were directed at Sara. "The mud would swallow you whole, so I'm going."

Kate didn't move as Jack made his way toward her. He stopped inches in front of her, put his muddy crutches under his arms and reached out to her hair.

He said, "I'm going to untangle you," as calmly as though whatever was holding her was an autumn leaf.

Sara had her phone out and placed a call. "Daryl, you need to come here now." She gave the address. "Yes, now!" She listened. "I don't give a damn where you're going tonight or how many medals they pin on you. Now! Got it?"

Kate was looking at Jack, his face inches from hers. He had a hand on each side of her head, his fingers getting her hair away from whatever was holding it. "You forgot to shave this morning."

"It's not Sunday. I bet Stewart shaves every day."

"Of course." She was trying to keep her voice from shaking. What was in her hair? A snake? Some giant Florida bug? Every Indiana Jones movie ran through her mind. It couldn't be an alligator, could it?

"There," Jack said. "All done."

"Did you kill it?"

"That was done by someone other than me."

"What does that mean?"

He turned on his crutches, expecting her to follow, but Kate looked back at the tree roots and gasped. Where her hair had just been tangled was a human skull and near it was another one. There were other bones protruding from the dirt. Two entire skeletons were exposed. The big tree had wrapped roots around the bones like loving fingers holding them to her.

"Jack," Sara said.

He looked back at Kate, took a step toward her. He handed her a crutch, then put his arm around her shoulders. "Would you mind helping me out of here?"

She knew he didn't need help but her heart was pounding so hard she was glad for his steadying arm.

With Jack's crutches, his unbending leg and Kate's bare feet, it made slow going in the mud. When they got out of the hole, Kate sat down and cleaned her hands on the grass. Jack sat beside her.

They were both staring at the skulls and bones embedded in the tree roots. It was an eerie sight. The tree seemed to own the bones, to hug them, caress them...protect them. If someone tried to remove them, the tree looked as though it would swallow them whole.

Sara came to stand behind them, her camera constantly clicking. She paused only to change batteries. "Daryl is on his way." In the next second they heard a siren in the distance. "Damn him! He'll have the whole town coming to see what's going on."

"Who were they?" Kate whispered, her eyes on the bones.

"No idea," Jack said. "It looks like the tree was planted on top of—of them."

Sara sat down beside Kate and held out her camera. "Look at this." She had enlarged the playback on the screen to show the skull that had been tangled in Kate's hair. "Is that what I think it is?"

Jack took the camera and he and Kate put their heads together to look at it. "There's a hole," Kate said.

"In the side of the skull. Looks like it was hit with something," Jack said.

"Could have been the tree," Kate said.

Sara and Jack looked at her. None of them believed that.

Jack frowned. "The two of you aren't going to turn into scream queens, are you?" He held up the camera. "If so, quick! Show me where the video is so I can put you on YouTube."

"Not funny," Sara said. The siren could be heard at the front of the house and was then turned off. "Sheriff's here."

Kate got up and helped Jack with his muddy crutches, and they walked to the front.

A dark-green-and-white car, Broward County Sheriff's Department, Lachlan, Florida, painted on the side, was parked beside Jack's old truck.

A man wearing a tuxedo got out. He was fiftyish, medium height, sparse hair, a belly. He was frowning so deep his face was scrunched up. "I'm supposed to be in Miami in thirty minutes. This better be good." His voice was a growl and it was aimed at Sara.

"It is," Sara said. "Come and look."

As he walked past Jack, he said, "You managing to stay sober, Wyatt?"

Kate saw Jack's face turn to such rage that he looked like he might hit the sheriff. She stepped between them. "Hi! I'm Kate, Sara's niece. It was so kind of you to come here to see what we found." She slipped her arm through his tux sleeve. "You make me feel like we're going to a party."

It took the man a moment to change moods, but he smiled at her and put his hand over hers. "You must be Randal Medlar's daughter."

"I am." She was startled at hearing the name, but she smiled as warmly as she could manage. When they reached the edge of the hole, she dropped his arm.

Sara was looking as though she might start laughing at what Kate had done. But Jack was glowering like a villain in an action movie.

"There's the problem." Kate motioned toward the tall tree roots.

Daryl stared at it, seeming to be unsure of what he was seeing. But after a moment, he looked at Sara. "Somebody planted a tree over an old burial ground. Happens all the time. I'll send the coroner over tomorrow to remove the bones and rebury them somewhere." He turned away as though he meant to leave.

"One of the skulls has a hole in it," Sara said. "Like someone was hit over the head with a weapon."

"Sara." The man sounded as though he was talking to a child. "You aren't trying to make this into one of those books you write, are you? Love Under the Tree Roots. Something like that?" His face was a smirk.

Jack, his anger now under control, was standing by Sara. When she started to speak, he clamped a hand onto her shoulder.

The sheriff straightened his cuffs and looked back at Kate. "I think I should introduce myself. I'm Sheriff Daryl Flynn. My mother was a Kirkwood."

Kate could tell this meant something locally. "Like Tayla," she said. "I work for her."

"She's my mother's cousin and she's been good for this town. You're the girl that Alastair Stewart asked out, aren't you?"

Kate nodded, amazed at the speed of the local gossip.

"That's good. A pretty girl like you might make sure he moves back here. He'd give this town back its sense of class." He cut his eyes at Sara. "Too bad about the house being taken away from the family."

Kate drew in her breath. No house was "taken" from anyone.

"You didn't hear?" Sara said. Jack still had his hand on her shoulder. "I'm planning to give the house back to him because he's, you know, a Stewart and I'm just a Medlar. It will be my honor to do so."

The sheriff looked like he wasn't sure if she was kidding or not. "I have to go. I'm to give the toast tonight, so I can't be late." He took Kate's hand and held it with both of his. "You'd do well to stick with a Stewart." He gave a quick look at Jack, making it clear who she was to stay away from. "A connection with a Stewart might mean you could make something of yourself in this town."

Kate gave a girlish little laugh. "In spite of the fact that I'm a Medlar?"

The sheriff smiled at that and, still holding her hand, looked at Sara. "You got a smart one here. Catches on fast. You could learn from her." He released Kate's hand and started for his car. "I'll send the coroner—or somebody—first thing tomorrow. Have a good night." He gave a contemptuous look at Jack, got into his car and started the engine.

When Sara made a movement, Jack dropped his crutches to the ground and grabbed her about the waist, her back to his front.

"Let me hit him," Sara said. "Just one good right. Please. What made me come back to this town? It's still high school here."

Jack held her until the sheriff drove out of sight. "Why don't you take some photos inside the house? There's only about an hour's worth of light left."

Sara didn't say anything and went into the house.

"Is she going to be okay?" Kate asked.

"Sure," Jack said. "She just needs time alone to calm down. She's had years of signing autographs and giving interviews, so it's culture shock for her to come back here and be considered less than best. But to be fair to Lachlan, very few of those old-time bigots are left. Unfortunately, one of them happens to be the sheriff."

He went through Sara's backpack and withdrew a small camera. It was black with a silver top and it had dials and buttons on it.

"That looks like something James Bond would use."

Jack grinned. "That's what I thought when I first saw it. But it's modern and it's digital. I want to take some close-ups of those skulls." He looked down at her muddy feet. "Mind helping me?"

"Not at all."

"Not superstitiously scared?"

"Minds like the sheriff's scare me more than bones."

He nodded in agreement as he lowered himself into the big pit, then helped her down.

When they reached the roots, she watched him adjust the knobs and buttons. "I got the idea that you didn't know how to work a camera."

"Please don't tell Sara that I know aperture from shutter speed."

"She'll be jealous?"

"Worse. She'll put me to work. I'll be made into her camera assistant and have to carry fifty-pound bags full of lenses. Last time she told me to shoot something, I left the lens cap on. I said I'd better just use my cell phone. That sends her into a ten-minute lecture."

He picked up his crutches, handed her one, leaned on the other and began taking pictures. The light was fading fast.

Kate knew he was trying to put humor in the atmosphere after what the sheriff had said, but she wanted to know more. "It seems that you and I, the Wyatts and the Medlars, are the lowest in this town."

Jack gave a smile, but it was forced and there was a muscle working in his jaw. "We are. I grew up with Henry Lowell as my stepfather, but that didn't erase—"

"Your father? Alastair told me about him." She could see that Jack didn't like that and she tried to cover herself. "Alastair had nothing but good to say about you. Except that you were ugly."

Jack didn't smile. "I'm certainly not a blond Viking."

"I exaggerated all that to distract my mother." She lowered her voice. "My mother's memory of Aunt Sara doesn't seem to fit with the way she is now."

"If you thought Sara was a pain, why did you come? For her money?"

Kate cut him a look that made him laugh. "Actually, I wanted to learn more about my father. I only recently found out that he had a sister. Money and being famous had nothing to do with it. And besides, I needed a change. It just all seemed to fall into place at the right time." She paused. "What's that?"

Jack had his eye to the viewfinder. "What's what?"

"There. To your left. Sticking out of the mud."

He looked but saw nothing, but then the light from his angle was different. Kate, still holding his crutch, made her way to the far side. "When we get back, I'm going to soak my feet in a pot of hot water. It'll take hours to get the mud out from under my toenails." Bending, she used her thumb and index finger to pick up what she'd seen. It was hard to tell what it was. She slogged back to Jack.

"Skeletons don't scare you but mud does?"

"Last night it took me two hours to file and polish my nails, so yes, mud turns me off."

Jack took the thing from her fingers, put it against his T-shirt and rolled it around to clean it. "Sure you didn't drop this when you ran out of here after I untangled your hair? What did you think had you? An alligator?"

"Of course not!" she said much too quickly.

He was obviously amused by that. "They don't climb trees. They—" He looked at what he'd cleaned. In an instant, the expression on his face changed from teasing to pure, unrestrained horror.

"What is it?"

Jack just stood there. Silent and staring.

She had to open his fingers to see what was in them. She held up a gold chain and on the end was a charm that formed the letters CM.

"Cheryl Morris," he whispered. "And I loved her." Turning, he started toward the side of the pit.