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“But you did have a caretaker?”
Baxter said, “Wynn. We had Wynn Cravens on the payroll for years. My mother hired him.”
“That’s right,” Tyson said. “Wynn took care of the place while Beulah, that’s my grandmother, lived in the house. Then, over time, you know, when we moved out of the place and eventually Grandma, we decided to sell off parcels and didn’t really need him.” Tyson slid his hands into his front pockets and rolled back on his heels. “Besides, he was getting older.”
“Just passed on,” Baxter said. “I read his obituary in the Sentinel.”
“What about his son or grandson?”
Baxter shook his head. “Didn’t deal much with Jasper. He wasn’t around much, and the grandson . . . what was his name, Buster?”
“Bronco,” Tyson supplied. “Well, really Bruno, but everyone called him Bronco.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s what it was,” Baxter agreed.
“And a real loser.” Tyson shrugged. “I was in school with him, he was a little younger, but he kind of faded into the woodwork, y’know. Wasn’t a jock, or a brainiac, just . . . kind of was.” He frowned, remembering. “We didn’t hang out.”
The woman in the nearby chair stood and stretched, then settled into the chair again, draped out over the cushions and once again started texting, just as a nurse pushing a rattling pill cart made her way down the hallway.
“Maybe you’re right,” Tyson said to Reed. “Maybe talking at the station would be better. Dad and I can come down there tomorrow, or the next day, and give a statement and a list of anyone we can remember who’s been on the property. We’ll call and set it up.” And then to his father, “Come on, Dad. Let’s go.” He was already striding toward the exit doors on the other side of the Information Desk.
CHAPTER 6
Nikki felt another serious pang of guilt over Sylvie’s condition. If only Reed’s partner hadn’t spied her in the river. Or for that matter, if only Nikki hadn’t slipped and ended up in the water.
Things would be far different.
That’s right. And Sylvie Morrisette wouldn’t be fighting for her life, would she?
Angry with that horrid little nagging voice in her head, Nikki pushed that painful thought aside, adjusted her sling, then craned her neck, but Reed was nowhere in sight. In fact, the area around the nurses’ station appeared to be empty.
One of the female nurses, the one with thick black hair pulled away from her face and sharp dark eyes over her mask, glanced down quickly, said something unintelligible to her coworkers, then slipped off of her chair to hurry out of sight.
Nikki couldn’t help but wonder if the nurse had gone to check on Morrisette, if something had happened, though she knew that was unlikely. If Reed’s partner were in surgery, she would be on another floor or in another wing, in an operating room, no longer a patient in the ER.
So where had Reed gone?
To check on his partner? Had Morrisette taken a turn for the worse? God, she hoped not.
Or had Reed been called away because of a development in the case? Maybe the bodies had been ID’d or more corpses located? Had the crime team found some evidence? A new lead? And what about Bronco Cravens? Her mind spun with dozens of unanswered questions.
She kept her gaze glued to the door and wished he’d return.
If only the damned doctor would release her.
Soon. It had to be soon. To pass the time, she concentrated on the case. What did she know? Two bodies had been discovered by Bronco Cravens, a lowlife if there ever was a lowlife, but she didn’t know the identity of the corpses or how long they’d been buried there, or even where on the property they’d been located. In fact, she hardly knew anything. She thought she’d spied someone hiding beneath the curtain of willow tree branches, but she wasn’t even certain of that. Yes, she was certain she’d seen the boat, but had she witnessed someone helming it? It had definitely been moving. In her mind’s eye she remembered that flash of red visible behind the curtain of silver-green leaves turning in the wind.
Was it important?
Someone with something to hide?
Just a lookie-loo motoring on . . . on what? The rushing river filled with debris from the storm? Unlikely.
Another reporter?
She chewed on that and wished she could get out of here so that she could dig into the story. More details may have been released, but she had no way of checking right now. She wasn’t expected to stay overnight but was waiting for a doctor’s orders to release her. The holdup, as she understood it, wasn’t her shoulder, just a matter of paperwork.
Good.
