She saw Gran tottering to the door with a plate of homemade gingerbread cookies and tea to welcome her customers. Heard her cry of anguish when Amelia came home as one of the others.
Was Papaw with Gran now? Were they looking down from heaven, wondering how Amelia could have taken her own granddaddy’s life?
She slowed the Honda and crawled toward the sheriff’s office and the jail. She’d tie up the funeral arrangements, question her sister, and get the hell out again.
Then the past could stay buried where it belonged.
Jake mentally rehashed the last twenty-four hours in his head as he entered the sheriff’s office and dropped his notes on his desk. This was his first homicide investigation, and he wanted to make sure he had the right person locked up.
Not that it appeared there was any question, but still...he had to be thorough for his own sake. For Sadie’s. For Amelia’s. For Walter Nettleton’s.
His gaze fell to his father’s file, and he pushed it aside. He’d get back to it later, once this mess was taken care of.
The notes and pictures scattered in front of him called to him now.
First he’d wrangled the gun from Amelia’s bloody hands. She hadn’t fought him at all. Hadn’t screamed her innocence or even acknowledged his presence.
Neither had she cried for her grandfather, or exhibited any signs of grief.
She appeared to be in shock.
When he realized that Amelia posed no immediate threat, he’d called his deputy, then the coroner, Barry Bullock. His deputy had rushed over, and Jake had put him to work examining the perimeter of the house in case someone else had been present before or during the shooting.
Ms. Lettie had pulled herself together and phoned Amelia’s doctor, Roy Tynsdale.
Tynsdale had been at a charity fund-raiser for the psychiatric hospital that had treated Amelia for years. The older man had been not only Amelia’s doctor but a friend of Walt’s, and the minute he received the call, he’d made his excuses and had raced to the crime scene like a bat out of hell.
One look at the bloodbath in the room, and he’d jumped into action, taking Amelia’s vitals and making sure she hadn’t injured herself.
Jake had searched the rest of the house; then his deputy came in, saying the drizzly rain had made finding any footprints around the house impossible, although he had noticed animal tracks—looked like a coyote’s.
He’d have to mention it to Sadie if she decided to stay there.
His mind took a dangerous leap, and he found himself wondering what she looked like now. If she’d changed.
Dammit, of course she had. Ten years had passed since he’d seen or heard from her. She’d earned a degree, was some kind of children’s advocate now, and she’d put thousands of miles between them, as if they’d never been friends.
Or lovers.
Meanwhile he’d worked Special Forces and served in Afghanistan, then been shot on a recon mission his fourth year. During his recovery, he had a one-night stand with one of the nurses at the rehab center, then married her six months later when he discovered she was pregnant with his baby. Two months after Ayla was born, Judy had announced that she wasn’t cut out for motherhood and signed all rights over to him.
He hadn’t known what to do then, so he’d stayed near her for a while, hoping she’d change her mind and at least have some contact with Ayla. But eventually he’d given up. Six months ago, he’d picked up his little girl and moved back to Slaughter Creek to raise her in his hometown.
Sheriff Bayler needed a deputy, so he took the training and signed on. When the man retired, Jake jumped at the chance to run for sheriff.
The job was flexible enough for him to spend time with Ayla, especially since until today, the town had been safe and virtually crime-free.
Jesus. He’d move heaven and hell to keep that little girl safe. And he’d kill anyone who ever tried to hurt her.
He forced his mind back to the investigation, making sure he’d covered all the bases.
He’d bagged the shotgun he’d taken from Amelia to send to the lab, and processed Amelia’s hands while Mike photographed the house. At the jail, Ms. Lettie helped Amelia change into clean clothes, and he sent everything she’d been wearing to the lab as well.
So why did he feel as if he’d missed something important? That there was a clue right under his nose that had gone undetected?
The front door to the office swung open, and he glanced up from his desk as Mike loped in. He looked freshly showered and shaven, his short hair still damp and combed back from his forehead.
Rested, when Jake felt like shit.
“Awful quiet in here,” Mike mumbled. “I figured Amelia would be pitching fits.”