Page 37
Mrs. Holloway turned to face her fully, something cold and hard in her gaze. “Let me give you some advice, Ms. Mathews. This island has weathered storms for centuries—natural disasters, economic hardships, wars that took our sons or sent them back damaged. But we’re still here.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Kaitlin said, though a chill crept along her spine.
“You’re stirring up mud from the bottom of a pond that that will drown you. And all you’ll do is cloud the water for everyone.”
The statement was delivered in a raspy voice that seemed to scrape against Kaitlin’s own still tender throat.
Eleanor Holloway adjusted her mask with her bandaged hand, wincing slightly at the movement.
A harsh cough escaped from behind the mask, triggering a bout she struggled to control. When she recovered, her eyes were watering, but the hardness in them remained.
Mrs. Holloway stepped closer, close enough that Kaitlin could see the fine beads of sweat on her forehead despite the store’s moderate temperature. “You think you can understand this island because you’ve spent a few weeks here, digging through papers and asking questions. You don’t know anything.”
“Then help me understand.” Kaitlin maintained eye contact. “Your brother-in-law worked at the mansion. What happened there? Why did it close so suddenly?”
Something flickered across Mrs. Holloway’s eyes before she schooled her features. “Robert had nothing to do with anything.” She adjusted her basket on her arm, the bandaged hand trembling slightly. “And I’m not discussing family matters with an outsider who’s clearly working some agenda.” She brushed past Kaitlin harder than necessary. “Stay away from my family, Ms. Mathews. We’ve had enough trouble.”
Kaitlin watched the woman make her way to the checkout and place her items on the counter with stiff, deliberate movements. The bandaged hand remained tucked close to her body, as if protecting it from further injury. The teenage cashier attempted conversation, but Mrs. Holloway’s responses were clipped and barely audible.
The encounter left Kaitlin unsettled. The town clerk had previously been curious and a bit nosy, yes, but never openly antagonistic. Something had changed. Or perhaps the woman’s true feelings had simply surfaced when she realized the direction of Kaitlin’s research.
Kaitlin finished her tea, depositing the cup in a small bin near the door. Outside, the fog had begun to lift, revealing patches of blue sky between churning gray clouds. She stretched briefly, testing the tightness in her chest, then began a slow jog back toward the cottage.
The mansion came into view as she crested a small hill, its weathered stone and darkened windows watching her approach. Yellow police tape still fluttered around the basement entrance where the fire had been contained. How close she’d come to losing everything—the records, the evidence. Perhaps even her own life.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows in the mansion’s main-floor library, illuminating dust motes that danced in golden shafts. The space had been transformed into a makeshift workstation with two folding tables arranged in an L-shape, a desk lamp with an adjustable neck, and shelves now full of old document boxes.
Kaitlin sneezed as she opened another cardboard container, its contents releasing decades of settled dust into the air. Despite Amy’s insistence that the library was healthier for her recovering lungs than the basement, the relocated files carried their own musty perfume.
These files had been secured in a metal cabinet that had protected them from the worst of the flames. Others hadn’t been so fortunate.
Heavy footsteps in the hallway announced another delivery from below. Kaitlin tensed involuntarily, recognizing the distinctive tread. The door swung open, and Jasper Holloway’s massive frame filled the entrance, another banker’s box balanced effortlessly in his enormous hands. Amy had borrowed him from the construction team to help relocate the files. He still wore the heavy coveralls and leather work gloves needed for the demolition happening on the second floor.
Without waiting for direction, he placed the box beside the others, surprisingly gentle for a man of his size.
“Thank you, Jasper,” Kaitlin said, fighting the irrational fear that crept up her spine whenever he entered the room.
He nodded once, then turned to leave.
“Actually,” Kaitlin called, surprising herself. “There’s one more box I need from the basement. It’s full of binders with dark blue binding, labeled ‘Personnel.’”
She’d been avoiding returning to the basement since the fire, but the documents she needed most hadn’t been brought up. Matt would soon be picking her up to interview another former staff member. She needed those files.
Jasper paused in the doorway. “Show me.”
The request hung in the air between them. Kaitlin hesitated, torn between her reluctance to enter the basement and her need for those specific records.
“I can describe where—”
“Faster if you show me,” Jasper interrupted, his expression unchanged.
He was right, of course. The records room was still in disarray, and trying to explain the location of one specific box among dozens would waste time neither of them had.
“All right.” Kaitlin set aside the ledger she’d been examining and rose from her chair. “It shouldn’t take long.”
The journey downstairs felt like a descent into another world. A world full of cool shadows and the scent of smoke, which grew stronger with each step downward, a persistent reminder of that night’s near catastrophe.
Jasper walked slightly ahead, his broad shoulders blocking much of Kaitlin’s view. In the dim stairwell light, his perpetually silent silhouette seemed almost menacing. Kaitlin found herself counting the steps, calculating how quickly she could retreat if necessary.
