Chapter 19

19

Mid-City, New Orleans, Louisiana

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15, 8:00 P.M.

VAL STOPPED THE SUV IN front of Sara Morton's bungalow. Medford Hughes's sister-in-law lived in a nice neighborhood, only minutes from where both Molly and her fiancé lived.

This should be a low-key visit. No danger involved. Phin hoped.

He, Val, Burke, and Cora all wore Kevlar under their clothing, just in case.

"I think Miss Morton has company," Phin said, looking at the town car in the driveway. "She doesn't have a town car registered to her." He'd watched Antoine search the DMV database for the Camry earlier that day, and Antoine had given Phin his credentials to use as needed. Phin wasn't going to let Cora go into any situation that he hadn't personally vetted to be safe, so he quickly ran a check on the town car's plates. "Wow. That's unexpected."

"What?" Val asked.

Cora leaned over to see his phone. "Huh. I guess the church business pays well."

"It's registered to Reverend Beauchamp," Phin explained. "He has that big church in Metairie."

"Oh, I've heard of him," Burke said with obvious disdain. "He does all that ‘healing.' Takes advantage of desperate people. Calls it ‘donations' but it's really a big scam."

Cora looked like she'd sucked a lemon. "My grandmother watched his show occasionally toward the end of her life, when she couldn't get to our own church on Sundays. She tried to get John Robert to go to one of their revival meetings in the hope of getting healed, but John Robert was not a fan of the reverend. Grandmother normally wasn't, either, but we were getting desperate."

"Detective Clancy mentioned that Medford Hughes volunteered with his church," Phin said. "Maybe it was Beauchamp's church."

"Maybe Beauchamp can tell us something about Medford," Val said. "Should we crash their party or be polite and wait?"

Burke got out of the SUV. "Let's try to crash. I'd like the reverend's take on Medford Hughes. Who knows, maybe Medford gave the reverend some last confession before he was killed."

Phin got out of the back and held his hand out for Cora to tug her across the seat. He liked holding her hand. He'd missed the simple intimacies.

"Protestant ministers observe sanctity of confession, too," Cora said as she slid out of the SUV.

"I know," Burke said. "But I can dream, can't I?"

Val patted his shoulder. "Dream away, boss. I've never seen this guy's show on TV, but I've seen the billboards all over town. I get the heebie-jeebies from televangelists, but if he can give us info on Hughes, I can say whatever I need to say to get on his good side."

"Are we supposed to know that both Hughes and his wife were murdered?" Cora asked. "It wasn't on the news. They covered it as a murder-suicide."

"Good point," Burke murmured. "We don't mention that we were the ones that found the body unless the sister asks. Clancy might have told her. We don't know. For now, Val, Phin, and I are here for information because Hughes had our laptops and the police aren't being helpful. You're here because the thief chased you and you haven't felt safe since."

"That last part's not a lie," Cora murmured, and Phin knew he'd give whatever he owned to make her feel safe again.

Strategy in place, they walked up the sidewalk to Sara Morton's front door, the three of them flanking Cora so she was covered from the back and sides.

Phin was at her side, of course, and SodaPop was at his. Cora was clutching his hand so tightly that he had to hold back a wince. "You okay, Cora Jane?"

Her smile was tremulous. "I will be. I mean, this was my idea."

"You'll be fine," Val said. "It's all good. This is just a chat."

"She's grieving," Cora said. "We're intruding on her grief."

"I'd hope that she'd want justice for her sister and Medford," Phin said. "I guess we'll see." They'd reached the door and Phin knocked.

A fortyish man in a suit answered the door, scowling at them. "We're not interested."

He started to slam the door and Phin slapped a hand against it. "We're not selling anything. We're here to speak to Miss Morton. Are you a family member?"

"No." The suited man stepped back. "I'll see if she'll receive you."

Cora blinked. "Receive us? He talks like my grandmother did."

"I think he's the driver," Phin murmured. "Probably a bit of a bodyguard for the reverend, too. Or at least he clears him a path."

The door opened again, revealing a middle-aged woman. "You're from Broussard Investigations, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Val said. "We don't mean to intrude, but we were hoping you'd have some time to talk to us."

"I've been expecting you. Detective Clancy said you'd be stopping by."

"Told you," Phin muttered, and Burke grunted his displeasure at having been wrong. "Is it okay if my service dog accompanies me?"

"Of course," Sara said. "Clancy said you'd probably bring her. Come in, please. I've been talking with my minister. Reverend Beauchamp, these folks are from a private investigating firm in the Quarter."

The minister rose, a smile on his face. It was a minister's smile, the kind that was supposed to be warm and welcoming.

It made Phin miss his Uncle Trace. Trace was also a holy man—a priest—but, unlike Beauchamp, his smiles were always so genuine.

"I'm Burke Broussard," Burke said. "My associates Val and Phin and our client, Cora."

"Pleased to meet you all. Sit down and rest." Beauchamp gestured to the sofa and chairs. He'd been sitting on a love seat and returned to it. They all took their seats, except for Val, who took her place standing behind Cora. "I'm sure you know that Miss Morton is grieving. I assume you have a good reason for the timing of your visit."

Ouch. The reverend had just politely chewed them out.

"Our apologies, Miss Morton," Burke said. "We're looking for information on Medford Hughes. The two laptops that were found in his car belonged to my company. The police haven't been terribly helpful in helping us find out why Hughes took them. The laptops themselves weren't worth much and they had no sensitive data on them, but our coworker was shot in the process."

"I heard about that," Sara said. "I also heard she's going to recover. I called the hospital and asked. I couldn't stand it if Medford had killed her. I was never so glad to hear that someone would be all right."

Sara Morton appeared to be under the impression that Medford had been the one to break into Burke's office and steal the laptops. Phin wondered if Clancy had told her that the man had been murdered. That detail still hadn't been shared with the media.

Of course, Sara Morton and Medford Hughes might have been working together. Seemed unlikely, but everything about this case seemed unlikely.

"Our coworker will make a full recovery," Burke confirmed. "Joy's important to us."

The reverend was watching Cora carefully and his attention made the hair rise on the back of Phin's neck. "Why are you here, Cora?" the man asked, his smile firmly in place.

Phin didn't like the way he was looking at Cora. Like she was a bug to study.

"The person who shot our friend chased me through the Quarter," she said. "I've had several break-ins at my house. I want to know why."

"Oh, that's terrible." Sara Morton looked genuinely upset. "I feel responsible."

The reverend reached over and patted Sara's hand. "We've had this conversation, Sara. You are not responsible for Medford's actions."

Sara didn't look convinced. "Will your friend have any issues paying her hospital bill, Mr. Broussard? Does she need help?"

That had not been what Phin had been expecting.

Burke actually blinked, so he'd been surprised, too. "We have good insurance. But you're kind to offer."

The reverend was shaking his head, an indulgent smile on his face. "She's one of my most generous parishioners. We're lucky to have her as part of our flock."

"I can see that," Burke said. "We were hoping we could get information on Medford Hughes."

"What do you want to know?" Sara asked. "I'll help you if I can."

"Was he involved in anything…sketchy?" Burke asked. "I hate to ask, but…"

"But he was found dead with your stolen laptops in the back seat of his car," Sara said sadly. "If he was, I never knew about it and my sister never mentioned it. I think she would have. She had kind of a love/hate relationship with Medford."

The reverend looked uncomfortable.

Phin wanted to ask why, but Sara Morton beat him to it. "What do you know, Reverend Beauchamp?" she asked.

The man hesitated. "I can't tell you everything. Some of it is confidential. But I can tell you what I saw and heard from others."

"From my sister?" Sara asked.

Beauchamp shook his head. "I can't tell you who, as that compromises another person's confidences, but Medford was involved with some bad people. Did the police find his personal laptop?"

"No," Sara said, her eyes wide and frightened. "Why? What do you know about it?"

The reverend hesitated once again. "Do you know what the dark web is, Sara?"

Dread took over the woman's expression. "Yes. Please, Reverend Beauchamp, just tell me."

Yeah , Phin thought, irritated. Just spit it out, man.

Sara pursed her lips when the reverend continued to say nothing. "He was murdered , Reverend. I've already told you that. How much worse can it get?"

Ah, so Clancy did tell her that much.

"He was into…children," Beauchamp said reluctantly.

Phin stared. He really had not been expecting that.

Cora looked horrified, and she wasn't alone. Val and Burke wore expressions of mixed horror and rage. Phin knew that Burke had dealt with those types when he was with the NOPD and still bore the emotional scars.

"Children?" Sara whispered.

"Yes," Beauchamp said. "Teenagers, actually. I thought Medford had committed suicide. That's what the news said. I thought maybe he'd become disgusted enough with himself to take his own life. But when you told me that he was murdered, well, that changes things. If he was killed by one of his associates…" He shook his head. "I don't want any harm to come to you, Sara."

Sara's hand was pressed tightly to her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Medford abused children? Medford? I can't believe that."

Phin couldn't blame her. It was a horrific crime, but it happened. He'd worked for Burke long enough to have seen a few investigations into child abuse situations.

Beauchamp's expression was full of sorrow. "I know it's hard to believe, but it's true."

Phin's temper boiled up when the reverend's words completely sank in. "Wait. You knew ?" he asked, hearing the censure in his own voice and not giving a damn. "You knew Hughes was a pedophile and you didn't turn him in?"

Beauchamp closed his eyes, misery radiating off him in palpable waves. "He never admitted it to me. Someone else did. The victim is getting counseling and has chosen not to press charges."

"You're a mandatory reporter," Val said quietly, but her words were cold. "Your clergy-penitent privilege doesn't apply here."

"Don't you think I know that?" Beauchamp snapped. "When I first was brought in, the child's parents had already reported the abuse to the authorities. The child was in counseling but would not disclose who had abused him. All he would say was that there were pictures. Online. He's thirteen . It's—" His voice broke. "It's hideous."

Cora leaned in and rested her hand on the minister's. He jumped at the touch but then settled. "Reverend Beauchamp," she said softly. "That must have been a terrible thing to have to hear."

"It was." Beauchamp cleared his throat. "You want to help, you want to scream, you want to do things to the perpetrator that are not Christian. In the end, all you can do is provide comfort and counseling and pray for God's justice. I did get the child's parents into counseling, too. They had a lot of guilt."

"I imagine so," Cora murmured. "When did you know that Hughes was the perpetrator?"

Phin wasn't sure how she was being so calm. Phin was glad he'd brought SodaPop with him. He hadn't expected this interview to become so gut-wrenchingly awful.

"Today. The mother of the victim contacted me, asked me if she was sinning by being glad that Medford had killed himself. She never said why, but she didn't have to. I was…stunned. Simply stunned. I knew that Medford did some shady work on the side, but it was more like reconditioning stolen laptops—and that was only a guess. I never knew for sure."

"How did you guess that?" Cora asked.

"I'd forget my password sometimes and he'd fix it for me. I only used a few combinations of words and numbers, so he just…I don't know. He had this software he used. He'd get the right password more quickly than I could, leaving me time to do my actual work. Once he muttered that I was his only legit client. I asked him what he meant but he said he was only kidding. So I had nothing of real value to report to anyone. But if Medford was killed for what he had on his laptop, his killer could have been one of any number of people."

Cora digested this. "How would Medford have gotten his hands on Mr. Broussard's laptops?"

Beauchamp shook his head. "I have no idea. I wish I did know, but I don't. Maybe he stole them. Or, like I've said, he consorted with shady people."

Cora patted the man's hand and leaned back into her chair. "Thank you, sir."

"Can you assign someone to protect Sara?" Beauchamp asked, looking from Burke to Val to Phin. "I don't want anything to happen to her because someone after Medford thinks she knows something."

Burke nodded. "I'll find someone."

Sara shook her head. "No, thank you. I can't pay you for that."

"Now, Sara," Beauchamp gently scolded. "You have life insurance money from your sister. You can afford it."

"I'm giving that to the church. We've already had this conversation."

"But I don't want you in danger," Beauchamp protested.

Burke held up a hand. "If we put protection around your house, Miss Morton, anyone who comes after you will be someone we're looking for, too. They shot our friend. We want to catch them. Let's talk about compensation later. You'd actually be doing us a favor."

Sara nodded reluctantly. "All right. But you will bill me. I don't need charity, Mr. Broussard."

Burke gave her a business card. "My cell's on the back of this card. Send me a text with your email address and I'll have your number, too."

Sara clutched the card to her chest. "I'm afraid I haven't been much help to you. I don't know why anyone would have broken into your offices to steal your laptops or why someone broke into Cora's house and chased her through the Quarter."

Burke stood. "You might have helped us more than you know. We'll leave you alone now. Thank you for your time. And thank you, Reverend. We appreciate your candor."

Beauchamp nodded shakily. "You're welcome. I hope you find out who shot your coworker."

"We do, too," Burke said and led them back to the SUV.

They were silent until they were all buckled in and had driven to the end of Sara Morton's street, Burke behind the wheel this time.

Cora clutched Phin's hand again, even more tightly than the last time. She wasn't as all right as she seemed to be.

That Medford Hughes had been a pedophile was a shock.

"Well?" Burke asked.

"I didn't like him," Phin said. "But I think that was because he goes on TV and gets old ladies to give him money."

"Same," Val said. "He was laying it on thick there at the end."

Phin nodded. "I agree."

Burke sighed. "I agree with both of you. Cora? You okay?"

"Not really," she said. "None of this makes any sense. None of this explains how it connects to me. Unless…" She rubbed her forehead with her free hand, still clutching Phin's with the other. "Unless my father was working a child abuse case and the perpetrator came after him, like Alice's first husband did."

"Then why kill Medford?" Val asked.

Cora shrugged. "Predators communicate on the dark web, right? If Medford got involved with a pedophile group and whoever killed my father was part of it and if Medford somehow betrayed them or threatened to expose them…Well, it would be a convenient way to silence Medford and set him up for the murder of Jack Elliot at the same time."

"I don't know," Val said doubtfully. "There's a lot of ifs in there, Cora."

There were, Phin thought, but he also thought that explained some of her calm back in Sara Morton's living room. She'd been feeling relieved that her father had been trying to rescue children abused by some very bad guys and had been killed for his effort.

It made Cora's loss more palatable, for sure. It was possible. And certainly better than the alternative—that Jack himself had been part of the crime. Phin was going to keep that thought to himself for now.

But there were a lot of ifs. The only way to get to the truth was to investigate Medford Hughes.

"We can check Medford's browsing history even without his computer, can't we, Burke?" Phin asked. "I remember Antoine talking about that, that he could access the browsing history on the router from the back end. That program he installed on our laptops was triggered when Medford logged in on his own Wi-Fi. We can find out who he was dealing with."

Burke met Phin's eyes in the rearview mirror. What had been approval in previous days was now admiration. "Yes, we can. I hadn't thought of that yet, but yes. Antoine should be able to do that. Can you text and ask him?"

Val reached her fist around the front seat and Phin bumped it. "Nice job, Phineas."

"Thank you, Ingrid," he said dryly. "Let's get Cora home. She needs to rest."

"I need to work," Cora corrected brokenly. "I need to know what my father actually did." And there was something in the tone of her voice that made him think that she was also wondering if Jack himself had been part of the crime. "I need to finish this."

Phin pulled out his phone and texted Antoine one-handed. He wasn't going to let go of Cora, no matter how hard she squeezed his hand.

When he'd sent the text, he turned to find Cora crying silently. "Hey," he murmured. "What's this?"

" If my father and Medford were killed by the same person and if my father was killed trying to stop child abusers and if Patrick killed him…does that mean that Patrick is a pedophile, too? Just like Medford Hughes?"

Phin sighed. "Let's see what Antoine finds out before you go there, okay?"

"No, you don't understand. I just remembered that Patrick was part of a mentoring program," she said hoarsely. "Teenagers from the community. For just a year, but what if he…? What if he hurt those kids, too?" She shook her head. "I can't even think about it."

Val turned in her seat to stare at Cora. "Did you say a mentoring program? Was it called Invest in Kidz, with a Z ?"

Cora nodded. "Yes. I wanted to participate, too, but I was in college and taking care of John Robert, so I didn't have time. It only lasted a year or so. Why?"

"Because Vincent Ray was one of the teenagers in that program," Val said grimly. "That could have been where he and Patrick met."

Phin hadn't thought Cora could look more devastated, but right now she did.

Phin, on the other hand, was furious. "Vincent Ray was going to set the house on fire. Sure, there were sprinklers, but what if they hadn't worked? Patrick could have killed Cora."

He hoped he didn't cross paths with Patrick Napier anytime soon. He might kill the man himself.

Cora wiped her cheeks with her sleeve, but the tears kept coming. "I hate this, Phin. All of it. It can't be true."

He unbuckled his seat belt so that he could slide closer to Cora, then wrapped his arms around her, his heart aching for her. "We'll figure this out." He kissed the top of her head. "And then it will be over."

He hoped he hadn't just told a lie.

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15, 11:15 P.M.

Alan's driver pulled his town car into his garage. "You okay back there, boss?" Drake asked, his voice gruff.

"I will be, Drake. Thank you."

"If that Hughes fella wasn't already dead, I'd kill him myself."

That was the reaction Alan had hoped for—the reaction he'd hoped Burke Broussard and his people would have as well. He'd been stunned to see them walk through Sara Morton's door. He'd only gone to visit her to ensure her life insurance proceeds would be donated to the church, which she'd already decided to do.

Then Broussard had walked in the door and Alan had panicked. Not that the visitors would have noticed. He was very good at covering up his true feelings. But he had panicked.

He'd come up with the idea of accusing Medford of pedophilia on the fly. He hoped it had worked, that Broussard would be so enraged that he'd focus his effort on trying to find a crime that did not exist.

Because Medford Hughes was no pedophile. Never had been. He'd been far too busy taking care of his wife and doing Alan's bidding to have any other nefarious hobbies.

If Broussard took the bait, he'd be spinning his wheels trying to find Medford's laptop, which Alan had crushed into bits and thrown into a dumpster near Xavier University.

And if Cora Winslow connected the dots, she might believe her father had been involved in a similar crime—murdered by someone targeting pedophiles. That would cause her to back off on her quest for the truth.

It had been the best he'd been able to do under the gun, as it were. It might just work. Either way, they couldn't prove he'd lied. Just that he was mistaken.

"I know how you feel, Drake. Some days the ministry is much more difficult than others. I'm going to bed. You can go on home."

"Sleep well, boss," Drake said.

Alan was certain he would not. "You too."

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15, 11:15 P.M.

"That's pretty," Delores said, dropping onto the attic window seat next to Cora.

Cora held up the little shepherdess figurine. "It is. My father bought it for my mother for Christmas the year John Robert was born. I'm surprised I remember that. I was only three."

Cora hadn't been alone all evening. Phin's people and Burke's people had been taking turns sitting with her on the window seat, keeping her company after the fallout with Tandy and the new learnings about Patrick.

It had helped. A little.

Cora's chest still hurt, the lie Tandy had told echoing in her mind. Patrick had traveled that year that Cora's father had disappeared. Had died. Patrick might not have gone to New Orleans, but Tandy had been worried enough about the possibility to lie to Cora's face. It was difficult to accept. Both the lie and the fact that Patrick could have killed Jack Elliot.

And now? Knowing that Patrick had possibly abused a child? Children? And that he could have known Vincent Ray?

It was too much. She had to think about something else, or she'd go insane.

"Was it a happy day?" Delores asked. "That Christmas?"

Cora forced her mind away from Tandy and Patrick to remember that Christmas, so long ago. "It was. All the days were happy days. Until they weren't."

She put the figurine back in the box with the others. She'd been going through her mother's things all evening while the others searched the seemingly never-ending supply of boxes. Generations of Winslow boxes. "My mother collected little figures."

"She kept the gifts your father gave her," Delores noted.

"She did. I don't think she ever stopped loving him. She never got over losing him. Over what she thought was a betrayal."

"I'm sorry," Delores murmured. "The words don't mean much, but they're all I have."

"They mean a lot. That you train service dogs pretty much says that you've got a big heart."

"It started with Cap," Delores said. "One of my friends adopted a dog from my shelter, and he'd been a service dog but his owner had passed away. Somehow, he ended up with me. My friend's got anxiety like Phin, with a healthy dose of ADHD. I watched the dog and saw how good he was for her, so I got trained on how to train dogs myself. SodaPop is my fifth service dog. I've been searching for the right dog for Phin ever since we met him, and SodaPop was perfect."

Cora looked over to where Phin and Stone were wrestling to upend an antique buffet that had been behind rows of boxes for God only knew how long.

Phin's expression was focused but not frenzied.

"He threads his fingers through SodaPop's coat sometimes," Cora murmured, watching him. He was such a pleasure to watch, and admiring his flexing muscles was so much easier than thinking about everything else. "I don't think he realizes he's doing it."

"That's good." Delores smiled proudly. "I was so hoping they'd be good together."

"I've only known him a few days and I can see that they are."

"And they're not the only two that are good together," Delores said slyly.

Cora had been wondering when this was coming. "He's a good man."

"He really is. I wish he weren't so hard on himself, but after knowing his family, I think that's an inherited trait. They're all overachievers that take it personally when things go sideways. Even if it's not their fault."

"So you know his family well?"

Delores heaved a heavy sigh. "Oh yes. And they are going to be so mad at us when they find out that our house is where Phin comes when he needs a safe place to heal. But they'll get over it. Eventually."

"Sounds like they'll be more hurt than mad."

Delores nodded. "Yeah. I hate that. But Phin's recovery is what it is. The trips to our place had become less and less frequent. I think we all hoped he wouldn't feel the need to run anymore, but he showed up again six weeks ago. This one was really bad."

"Maybe it was because he'd thought success was at his fingertips since he'd gone a long time without a spiral. When he spiraled again, that success melted away."

Delores gave her a shrewd look. "You get him. I'm glad."

"Whew." Cora mimed wiping sweat from her forehead. "I thought this was going to be the ‘don't hurt him or else' speech."

Delores snickered. "It was going to be. You just saved yourself by being so in tune with him."

Cora wanted to ask Delores what Phin had experienced that originally caused his PTSD. She wanted to know what had happened six weeks before to send him fleeing New Orleans for Ohio. But that was Phin's business. He'd tell her when he was ready.

"Are you going to ask?" Delores asked. "I can tell you want to."

"I can wait to hear it directly from him."

"Right answer. I wasn't going to tell you even if you'd asked." She looked over to where her husband and Phin were lifting the buffet onto its side, looking for a hidden compartment, most likely. They'd been checking for secret hidey-holes in the furniture for the last hour. Burke had stepped up to help them and it was quite a display of muscles. "That's a very nice view, isn't it?"

Cora thought about denying it, but what was the point? "It really is."

"Stone is the best of them, although I could be biased."

Cora chuckled. "I'm finding myself partial to Phin, so you're safe."

Delores laughed merrily. "Another right answer."

"You two are making me want to go home to my boyfriend," Val complained from behind them. "Stop it. And Burke and Phin are like my big brothers, so…eww."

Cora had almost forgotten that Val was back there looking through the shelves of books for hiding spots cut into the pages.

"Fine," Delores said, sounding put-upon. "I'm going to work on another box. Cora?"

"I'm going to go through these boxes of photo albums," Cora said, pointing to the box at her feet. "If my father tried to make it easy for my mother to find the Swiss bank account, I want to believe he left something for her to access the rest of that damn computer."

"Well, it's not in any of those old books," Val said, "and it's about time for my shift to end. Molly should be here soon. I'd love to stay, but I promised my son that I'd be home in time to watch a movie with him." She tilted her head. "That reminds me. When you were running from the guy who shot Joy on Tuesday, did you happen to run across a young man who asked if he could call someone for you? Behind a bakery?"

Cora stilled, a stack of photo albums in her hands. "Yes. Why?"

Val smiled. "That was my kid," she said proudly. "He was so worried about you. Described you to a T, right down to the pearls."

"He was sweet. Tell him thank you."

"When this is all over, you can come over to my place for a movie night and thank him yourself. You're welcome, too, Delores, if you're still in town." Val checked her phone. "Molly's downstairs." She turned to the men, all crouched next to the buffet. "I'm heading out, Burke. Y'all behave yourselves."

"See you tomorrow." Burke didn't look up, his gaze pinned to the buffet. He was nearly bouncing with excitement.

"What did you guys find?" Val asked.

"An honest-to-God secret compartment," Burke said.

Cora put the photo albums aside and hurried over. "Really? What's in it?"

Val huffed out a breath before picking her way around the boxes to join them.

"Phin's trying to figure out how to open it," Stone explained, his gaze fixed on Phin. "It's like one of those puzzle boxes."

"Phin's good at those," Delores said loyally.

"Phin's good at just about everything," Cora murmured, then winced. She hadn't meant to say that out loud or for it to sound so dirty.

Phin glanced up at her, his lips twitching and his cheeks pinking up. "Thank you," he said dryly.

Stone snorted. "Get back to work, lover boy."

Which wasn't fair. All they'd done was kiss, but Cora knew Phin would be equally good at what came after. She'd been letting herself think a lot about what came after as she'd watched him work around her house. It allowed her to feel something other than fear.

Anticipation. The stirrings of desire. It had been a long, long time. She felt like she'd been frozen for years and was only now thawing out.

She crouched down beside Phin, shining the flashlight from her phone at the area he was working on. It was set into the base of the piece of furniture. "I would have missed that, even if I'd been looking for it."

"Phin has magic hands," Stone said, waggling his brows.

Burke laughed. "Oh my God. Shut up."

Phin just shook his head. "I've seen these secret compartments before. Made a few myself."

Cora stared at him, fascinated. "You make furniture?"

"Sometimes."

"Lots of times," Stone said. "He's got a workshop in that house he's renting." He waggled his brows again. "You should ask him to show you his wares."

Phin barked out a laugh. "Stop. Just…stop."

Burke was laughing so hard that his eyes had teared up.

Cora couldn't stop her own laugh that bubbled up. It felt so good to let go and laugh. "Tame your husband, Delores."

"Nah. I like him that way."

"I'm perfect," Stone said with a cocky smile.

"You're so full of shit," Phin muttered then made a pleased sound. "Got it." He gestured to the edge of a drawer that had seemed to magically appear. "You want to do the honors, Cora Jane?"

"Not till we find gloves," Burke said. "If it's evidence, we need to treat it as such."

Val slapped a pair of latex gloves into Cora's hand. "I never leave home without them."

Cora had to steady her heart. She'd been laughing just moments before. Now she felt sick with dread. What would they find in there? What had her father left behind? Had he killed any other people?

Worse, had he been after Patrick? Because Patrick was hurting children? She didn't want to see. Didn't want to know.

She gave the gloves to Phin. "You found it, you get to open it."

Phin brushed the hair from her face, his expression understanding. "I'll do it." He pulled on the gloves. "Hold the light on the drawer."

Cora had to wipe her now-sweaty palms on her jeans before holding the phone again. She couldn't keep her hands from shaking.

Stone took the phone from her hand. "I'll do it," he said gently.

Phin opened the drawer and Cora had to force herself not to look away.

"Letters," Phin said with surprise. "Old ones. I don't think your father wrote them." He peered at the writing on the envelope on top of the stack. "Who was Seymour Winslow?"

"My grandfather's grandfather," Cora whispered. "Wow. He died in 1899."

"Can you get me a clean box or a bag, Val?" Phin asked.

Val pulled an evidence bag from her pocket. "Put them in here."

Phin did, then reached in again. And pulled out a shallow box.

An old jewelry box. The kind that came from a high-priced jewelry store. Cora recognized the name embossed on the box. It was one of the fanciest jewelers in New Orleans and had been in business for a very long time.

She held her breath as Phin lifted the box's lid. Then she gasped. "Oh my God."

It was a five-strand string of pearls, the quality so much better than the single strand that she wore every day. She'd seen these before. Many times, in fact.

She reached out and hovered one finger over them, wanting to touch, but not daring. "They were my great-great-grandmother's. She's wearing them in her portrait in the living room. Family lore says that they disappeared after her death. Her brother was suspected of stealing them. He was a pirate, according to the stories. If he did steal them, they never left the house."

"Is that all that's in there?" Val asked, as if Cora hadn't said a word.

"?'Fraid so," Phin said, pulling the drawer out as far as it would go. "Empty."

"Dammit," Burke said with frustration.

Dammit?

Oh right. They'd been hoping for clues left by her father.

Cora would be disappointed in a moment. For now, all she could think was that she could sell those pearls and replace the trust money she'd put into the house's new roof. And more. So much more.

An idea popped into her head, thrilling her. This was such a big house. It could shelter a lot of people. More than just me. People who needed help. A fresh start.

A safe place.

The idea needed time to percolate. There would be paperwork. So much paperwork. It would cost a lot of money. But now she'd have some more money.

She had options.

Phin put the lid back on the box and handed it to her with an indulgent smile. "Merry Christmas, Cora Jane. How many repairs will this necklace buy?"

She grinned at him, the worries of the day temporarily put aside. She got him, but he got her, too. This man was a keeper and she intended to try to do just that. "A lot. With a lot left over."

Burke sighed. "I'd say we should keep looking at boxes, but I think I'm done for the night. Let's lock up. Molly's downstairs. She'll stay with you tonight."

Phin caught her looking at him and nodded once. He'd stay, too.

She'd get to sleep again. Maybe not on the floor this time.

She held the box gingerly in one hand, her emotions on a roller-coaster high. She'd crash sooner or later, but for now, she felt downright giddy, like she'd had too much champagne.

She grabbed his neck with her free hand and pulled him in for a kiss that felt both celebratory and…more. He smiled against her lips before cupping her face in his big hands and kissing her back.

The kiss became hot immediately and Cora barely heard the groans around her. Barely felt Burke take the box of pearls from her hand, only vaguely hearing his promise to lock them in his home safe.

Barely heard the footsteps as the others stomped down the stairs.

Barely heard Val say, "Guys, take it downstairs. We're locking this door behind us, just in case we get more unwanted visitors tonight."

Phin pulled back, breathing hard, his cheeks flushed and his eyes dark with desire. "I'll lock up, Val," he said without taking his gaze off Cora's. "See you tomorrow." He took one more hard kiss that left Cora's lips tingling. "Come on. Let's go somewhere that's softer than this hardwood floor."

Cora rose and tugged him to his feet. "I know just the place."