Chapter 12

After a power nap,shower, and fresh clothes, Ash returned to the Krowne residence to walk through the crime scene without the filter of fear for Kayla’s safety clouding his analysis.

By the time he drove from the gate to the mansion’s front entrance, Jillian Krowne awaited him on the massive ten-foot-wide stoop, framed by large ceramic vases containing evergreen topiary and clusters of purple, yellow, and maroon violas at the base.

“Good morning, Special Agent Blackwell,” she said as he strode forward to take her proffered hand.

“Mrs. Krowne.” He accepted her hand. The CFO’s firm grip didn’t surprise him, but the bony ridges beneath his fingertips did. “Thank you for consenting to my visit. I know this is a difficult time.”

This morning, he’d received permission from Lawson to join the multiagency task force Morgan was pulling together. Having federal, along with state and local, resources focused on finding the governor’s killer gave them a fighting chance to succeed.

“Of course,” Jillian said, looking lovely in a pale green blouse and beige pants. Red rimmed her eyes and sadness pulled at her pale features. “Anything to help y’all find the person who kill—” Her composure cracked at having to verbalize the word, possibly for the first time since the incident. She gathered herself. “Who killed Victoria.”

“I won’t take up too much of your time.”

“All I have is time today.” She waved him inside. “How is my daughter?”

“As well as can be expected. My brother Phin is watching over her today.”

“I’m sure Phin’s a very capable young man, but do you think we should contact a private security firm?” She led him through the lower part of the mansion.

He expected to see remnants of the previous evening’s festivities, but the house was spotless. They must have had a cleaning crew on standby, waiting for the police to clear out.

“My brother is as capable as any private security firm, but the decision is ultimately up to Kayla.” He thought he knew what the lobbyist would decide, but kept it to himself.

Jillian’s features lightened for a moment. “I see you know my daughter well. She would not want her mother’s interference.”

He smiled. “Nor an FBI agent’s.”

“Please let me know if you need backup in the future.” Their brief bout of camaraderie dissipated the moment Jillian’s hands clasped the handles of the French doors that led to the veranda and the garden beyond.

“I can take it from here, Mrs. Krowne.”

She gave him a grateful look before stepping away. “Jillian, please.”

“Ash.”

She frowned. “I thought your name was Cameron?”

Why had he offered Ash? While wearing his badge, he was Cameron. Period.

He reflected back on his exchange with Kayla this morning, on her insistence of using his first name and his pleasure at hearing it cross her lips. With some shock, he realized he’d made the mental shift of thinking of himself as Ash again. And the change didn’t bother him.

“Professionally, I go by Cameron. My family know me as Ash.”

A genuine smile lifted the grief-stricken shadows from her face. “What an honor. Thank you, Ash.” She waved toward the garden. “I will leave you to it.”

“Thank you. I won’t be long.”

“Victoria was precious to me.” The large round diamond decorating her left ring finger drooped to the side as she placed a hand on his arm. “Please let me know if there’s anything you need. I want to see whoever did this pay for their crime.”

“Would you mind answering a few questions?”

“Of course.” Wariness trickled into her eyes.

“Are there any security cameras on the garden?” He hadn’t noticed any, but the nighttime gloom made for good camouflage.

She shook her head. “Only on the house’s entrances and exits. Something we’ll have to rethink.”

“Do you have any thoughts on who might have killed Governor Stokes?” She’d already gone through this with the detective, but sometimes memories could spark after having some time to think.

Jillian folded her hands in front of her, silent for several seconds, as she seemed to be engaged in a mental debate. “Vicky was a much-loved public figure. Even so, there were those who didn’t agree with her politics.”

“Anyone or any group in particular come to mind?”

Another thoughtful pause. Finally, she shook her head. “I would be speculating at best. Something I don’t do.”

“Any leads, no matter how unlikely, would be appreciated.”

“I will let you know if I come across anything substantive.”

“Call or text me anytime.” He handed her a business card, even though his number would be in her cell’s Recents log. “Final question. Any idea why Governor Stokes requested a private meeting with your daughter?”

Her attention shifted to the French doors’ multipaned windows, to the garden beyond. “No, I’m afraid not.”

An untrained observer would have missed the slight stiffening of her posture and the suspension of her breathing, but Ash catalogued each of her anxiety-ridden tells.

“If something occurs to you, please let me know.”

Dropping her gaze to his card, she brushed a red-painted thumbnail over his name. “Life is such a wonder, don’t you think?”

“In what way?”

“The fundraiser I threw last night met its goal. We saved Gorekin Cove and, in the process, sacrificed one of my dearest friends.”

He stilled. “Sacrificed?”

“If I had not invited her, she would still be alive.” A pair of tortured eyes bore into his. “Do you think a thousand acres of woodland was worth a life?”

“The governor’s death rests in the killer’s hands, not yours.”

“Ambition, influence, power—they are the great motivators in politics and business. An arena I know very well.” She swallowed with a hard, audible click. “Invite a governor and they will come, with their virtual checkbooks.”

Grief counseling was not his forte. He would hand over his entire savings if silver-tongued Phin walked through the door, right now.

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t know Governor Stokes, but from what I’ve gathered, she seemed like someone who would have been honored that her last evening on earth saved a valuable natural area.”

The CFO’s features teetered on the edge of collapse. She fought through the deluge of emotion and gave him a grateful smile. “Yes. Yes, she would.”

When she disappeared into the house, he stepped out onto the veranda. Despite the reason for his being here, the spring day promised to be a beautiful one. Tulips rose from their hibernation to jumpstart the season. The waning purple-pink blossoms of a redbud tree occupied the back corner near a gurgling waterfall.

But for the most part, the garden had a barren quality to it. Many of the trees and shrubs were only now starting to break free of their winter sleep. A fact that would’ve made the shooter’s job a lot easier, but also left them vulnerable to exposure. He followed the circular path around, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Forensics would’ve already done a thorough search. But even the most stalwart could miss things. When he got to the gazebo, he stepped inside, expecting to find evidence of the governor’s violent death. But like the mansion, the interior was now spotless.

On one level, he couldn’t help but be impressed with the Krownes’ cleaning crew. The large rug, where the governor’s body had fallen, had been replaced by a nearly identical one.

Not a speck of blood spatter could be found anywhere inside the structure. On another level, the ever-present red flag at the back of his mind was slowly unfurling.

He understood that the crime scene and the detritus from the party would be painful reminders of whom they had lost the previous evening. But this level of cleanliness reeked of something less emotional and more strategic.

After finishing his first circuit, he ditched the manicured path and wove his way through triangles of rosebushes, hillocks of grasses, and tangles of leafless vines.

His efforts produced no fruit, not that he had expected them to. But he never underestimated what a fresh set of eyes could accomplish. Returning to the gazebo, he stood in the approximate spot the governor had occupied.

A mixture of trees, shrubs, and spring perennials surrounded the structure. A firepit was visible off to the left and a pool/hot tub combo was off to the right of the veranda.

Each area was surrounded by vegetation, offering the users a modicum of privacy during the growing season, rather than an open backyard, spring-break vibe. The Krownes’ property wasn’t fenced in, nor were their neighbors’. Which meant the shooter could have come in from any direction and taken up a spot behind one of the many trees dotting the property.

He hoped forensics found something that would give them a clue about the killer’s identity, but he wasn’t holding his breath. A shooter who could put a bullet in their target’s forehead would know how not to leave any evidence behind.

Still, he took another circuit around the property. Every fifteen feet or so he would pause and glance back at the gazebo, judging distance and line of sight. When he reached the southeast side of the structure, between the fire pit and pool, he paused near a large dogwood.

The understory tree’s low hanging branches, heavy with its distinctive white blooms, would have given the shooter ample cover, yet an unimpeded sight line to where Kayla had stood with the governor.

As it always did when he recognized a breakthrough, no matter how large or small, blood pumped hotly into his ears. Dropping his focus to the ground, he could see evidence of other footprints in the vegetation. Several, in fact.

The forensic team had also found the spot. He nodded to himself, expecting no less.

A sixth sense, one he never ignored, compelled him to give a slow surveillance around the dogwood. He wasn’t looking for casings, cigarette butts, or the like. If they had been here, which he doubted, they’d already been bagged and hauled off to the lab.

He was looking for something else, though he didn’t know what until he spotted a small round object protruding from a crevice in the bark of a dogwood tree, just above his head.

Stepping back, he took several pictures from different angles with his phone. Then he fished an evidence bag out of his blazer’s pocket, along with a pocket knife. Using the sharp tip of the knife, he eased the object from its resting place and let it fall into the bag.

Lifting his find to eye level, he identified it immediately.

A pearl stud earring.