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Then there was the gold theory, but that hadn’t panned out—excuse the pun—either.
Duke had listened to bits and pieces of Craig’s podcast before. After Craig had solved the murder of Tom Maddox, he’d become somewhat of a superstar in the true crime community. Since Craig lived in Alaska, Duke had contacted him and asked him to look into Celeste’s disappearance.
Craig had promised to think about it.
So why did the man have Celeste’s bracelet?
Duke’s jaw hardened. He didn’t know.
And he didn’t like not knowing.
As the last episode ended, Duke hit Pause and turned toward Andi. “You have your list of suspects?”
She glanced at the yellow legal pad in front of her and nodded. “I do. But none of these people I’ve listed are guilty, according to Craig. He said he’d discovered something new.”
Duke agreed with her assessment—but he didn’t like it. “I wish there was a way we could walk through his last days.”
Andi took another sip of her coffee and frowned. No doubt it was cold now. As was the room they were in.
But neither of them had complained.
He admired that about her. Andi was tough. Maybe too tough at times. Duke couldn’t help but think that was out of necessity, like life had forced her to be this way.
He wanted to know more—a thought that scared him. However, his curiosity wasn’t of the romantic variety. His heart still belonged to Celeste.
He hadn’t let himself get close to anyone since he’d started his new job as a tour guide. He’d figured any type of friendship could be a distraction.
Now he realized how much he missed those interpersonal connections—therealconnections, not just the temporary ones he made with the tourists he showed around. He’d even cut himself off from church, afraid of anything that might distract him from his purpose.
That was clearly a mistake.
“This is what we know for sure about the killer.” Andi leaned forward, absently tapping her pen against her lips as if she’d done this a million times before. “He knows this area. He left no hesitation marks when stabbing his victims. Based on the angle of the stab wounds, he was taller than Henrietta. He was also familiar with the family’s schedule.”
“Who are our suspects then?” Duke asked.
She frowned as she stared at her paper. “Take your pick. Maybe Henrietta’s oldest son, Obadiah.”
The Blancos had named all their children after Old Testament prophets. Obadiah, Deborah, Miriam, Moses, Zephaniah, and Enoch—in that order.
Andi looked at her paper again. “Other suspects could be Catherine Beeman, the friend who found Henrietta’s body. Russell Blakeman, the man from church who had a thing for Henrietta. Wray Biggs, Henry’s business competitor. Or there’s the possibility that Henry hired a killer in order to get life insurance money. She had a policy worth two hundred thousand.”
“That sounds plausible.”
Andi sighed and ran a hand over her face. “Maybe I just need to clear my mind a moment.”
“Could be a good idea.” Duke took a sip of coffee, wondering again about the comment she’d made about being a convenience store barista in college. Most truck drivers he’d met didn’t go to college. But it didn’t surprise him that Andi had.
There were layers and layers to Andi—layers that he wanted to peel back.
Andi studied his face a moment, appearing as if a question paused on the tip of her tongue.
He waited for it.
She shoved a blonde hair behind her ear, her heart-shaped face turned up toward him. “Why did you get so uptight about that bracelet?”
Duke had figured the question would come up. But he hadn’t wanted to explain. He’d told himself he wouldn’t unless Andi asked.
Now she had.
