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“So she’s a freelancer, then?”
“That’s the prelim at least, but it has not been confirmed. There’s been talk of a new talent out in the mercenary field, but we don’t know if it’s her or not. Now, what’s new on your end?”
Devine went over his suspicions about Earl Palmer and the possible connection of Jenny Silkwell’s murder to the assault on her sister years earlier.
“My God. Curt never mentioned anything like that happening to Alex.”
“They apparently hushed it all up. Why, I don’t know.”
“Then what’s your take on the Norma casing being found at Jenny’s crime scene, but a NATO round being the one that nearly killed you?” asked Campbell.
“I don’t really have a take, sir. Yet. It could be someone from the military, or a civilian trying to throw suspicion that way. And we don’t know for sure Jenny was killed with the Norma round, since it was never found.”
“You have anyone that’s giving you certain vibes?”
“Dak Silkwell is an aspiring mini-mogul who will make even more millions off the sale of the old homestead now that Jenny is gone. He says he was in Boston at the time, but he could have paid someone to do it. That much money is a prime motive.”
“That’s the other thing I meant to share with you. I spoke today with the Silkwell estate lawyers about the trust that left the house and property to the children,” said Campbell. “So it might be Dak had even more motive than you thought.”
“How do you mean?”
“According to the trust terms there has to be aunanimousvote to sell the property. So if Jenny didn’t want to sell, Dak was not getting his millions. And ifAlexdoesn’t want to sell, Dak has the same problem that he might have had with Jenny.”
“I gotta go.” Devine ended the call and punched the gas.
CHAPTER
38
DEVINE POUNDED ON THE FRONTdoor at Jocelyn Point, to no avail. Alex’s bike was there. But Dak’s Harley was not. At this time of day the man was at work inking people’s skin.
He tried the door but it was locked. He ran around to the studio, but a quick look in the window revealed it was empty. He hustled back to the house and found the back door unlocked.
“Alex?” he cried out. “You here. We need to talk. Alex?”
He searched the first floor, then the second. He found Dak’s bedroom, which was a pigsty; on the other side of the house was Alex’s, which was tidy and organized.
Walls built around her to keep the bogeyman away.
He opened a third door and looked in. There were dust cloths on the furniture, but he could tell the space was clearly another bedroom.
On the wall he saw a number of grainy old newspaper articles that had been framed. He walked over to them. The local paper had written stories about Jenny Silkwell’s academic and athletic accomplishments, which were many and impressive. And on a shelf were trophies and certificates and other memorabilia that further proclaimed the outstanding youthful achievements of the room’s former occupant.
He shook his head and wondered what it would have been like to be Jenny Silkwell’s sibling.Not easy. Not easy at all.
He closed the door and spied another staircase that headed up.
He took it. The staircase was full of mildew and decay. He saw that it opened out onto the widow’s walk that served as a topper to the home.
The weather hit him as soon as he stepped outside, but now it was just wind. The precipitation had carried well off the coast.
The air seemed finer and purer up here, he immediately noted.
He took in the area, with his gaze finally settling on the Atlantic. The wind had churned it, and the whitecaps roiled the surface in a slow-moving motion that struck him as frenetic still. There were a few boats in his sight line, but that was all. The day was beginning to wind down and the setting sun was behind him, casting all he was seeing in a stream of colors that was building as slowly as the waves.
When his gaze dropped to the dark rocks along the coast his throat seized and his heart felt stiff and flimsy. He cried out in his anxiety and ran pell-mell back down the stairs to the first floor and out the back door. He ran flat-out toward the ocean, his heart in his throat as he mumbled every prayer he could think of.
He looked down on the boulders where the tide was just beginning to come in.
