Silas hung his head. “I know, but I still owe him a fixed cabinet.”
Charlie’s heart went out to the man. She didn’t believe it possible that Silas was the one who killed Pete.
“Why don’t I give you a ride back to your place, Silas?” Boone told him. “For now, until further notice, stay away from Pete’s place. It’s an active crime scene.”
Silas swung toward the house. “It sure is a mess in there. Pete would hate to see it like that.”
That was certainly true. Pete was a neat freak. Everything in its place and a place for everything, he used to say.
“I’ll take care of it if you like, Miss Charlie. Once it’s clear, I can clean it up.”
Charlie wondered if the old guy needed the money. “I’d like that. Thank you, Silas. I’ll be in touch.”
Silas nodded and followed Boone back to his cruiser.
“Let’s get inside.” Ryan cupped her elbow and guided her into the house along with Doug while Will remained outside.
Charlie glanced around the place ignoring the writing above the fireplace. This house had become her home once the one she’d grown up in had burned. “It’s such a mess. I’m not sure how we’ll know if anything was touched.”
“I’ll see what I can find.” Doug set his case down and opened it, ready to begin.
“Why don’t we take a look at the quilt chest?” Ryan followed her into Pete’s bedroom. Photos of her alone and with her parents were all around the room.
She couldn’t look at the reminder of what was lost. “Over there.” Charlie headed for the chest.
Before she opened it Ryan stopped her. “Hang on a second. If there are fingerprints, we don’t want to disturb them.” She waited while he gloved up and handed her a pair.
Ryan opened the chest.
It was filled with the quilts Charlie’s aunt had made. Pete never used them. He held them in the chest as treasures and told Charlie once he passed, he wanted her to have them.
One by one, Charlie carefully removed the quilts until the chest was empty. “There’s nothing in here.” Her shoulders slumped. She’d been so certain they’d find something useful.
Ryan felt around the bottom of the chest before straightening. “You think he meant the quilts? Maybe he wanted you to know how important they were to him.”
Charlie chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe.” But she didn’t believe it. Pete had told her numerous times about the quilts his wife made. She knew they meant a lot to him. That call was different. As if he were trying to tell her something.
She picked up one of the quilts they’d placed on Pete’s bed and held it up. Nothing appeared out of place. It was a simple nine patch pattern which included nine squares arranged in a three-by-three grid.
Charlie felt around the quilt looking for anything out of the ordinary and found nothing.
Ryan saw what she was doing and grabbed the next one and did the same.
When she picked up the next-to-last quilt she noticed something strange about it. “There’s something tucked near the edge. It’s a key.” She noticed a spot where the quilt’s stitchinghad been removed. Charlie worked the key up and out of the spot.
She held it in her hand and turned it over. “I have no idea what it fits.”
Ryan stood next to her and examined the key. “It looks like the type that could fit a lock box.” He looked around the room for some place where Pete might have hidden the box. “You think it’s in here?”
Charlie was doubtful, but she helped him search. Going through the drawers near Pete’s bed, she realized her uncle had collected every photo she ever sent to him from her work.
She held up the one taken a few years back from her time in Canada.
“He loved that one in particular.” She didn’t realize Ryan was close until he spoke. “Pete was always talking about your work. He was proud of you, Charlie.”
She struggled to draw air into her lungs. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
Ryan touched her shoulder. Charlie struggled to hold onto her composure. She wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him. Not until she knew who had taken her uncle and Abby’s lives.
