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“Earl did, but he was afraid to tell. He wrote that letter shortly before he died. He’d been feeling chest pain and wanted to make sure someone finally knew what happened.”
“How did he know?”
“Earl’s letter says he and Daniel were out hunting and got separated. Daniel found Frank had been badly wounded and tried to help, but it was t-too late.” Bernice held a hand to her mouth as she gave a deep, shuddering sigh. “That’s why the blood was on your dad’s clothes. Robert must have seen the perfect opportunity to frame your dad and get away with murder.”
“And then later...at the jail?”
“Earl saw Robert go into the building, then Clay left in a hurry.”
Sara drew in a long, slow breath.
“Earl figured Robert bribed Clay to leave. Then he killed your dad so no one else would ever hear the truth.” Bernice’s eyes filled with tears. “Back then small-town jails didn’t have much supervision. The horrible man got away with murder twice.”
And again, just recently. Anger rose in Sara’s throat, followed by overwhelming sorrow as she imagined her gentle father’s horror at finding Frank murdered. His terror at being trapped in a cell, unable to escape his attacker.
Remembering what Clay had said to her back in October, Sara closed her eyes. “Dad never did drink, did he?”
“Of course not! He hated the taste—he didn’t even like communion wine. Why do you ask?”
“Clay tried to tell me Dad was drunk the night of Frank’s murder. Another lie. I don’t understand—surely the coroner’s report would have been suspicious.”
The pain in Bernice’s voice was palpable. “Nathan said some rural counties didn’t have a real coroner back then. If they didn’t, the sheriff could investigate anything unusual. If he didn’t raise questions, the county attorney usually didn’t, either.”
“So Robert set it up to look like suicide, paid off the sheriff and probably the mortician, as well. And that was it.”
A tear slipped down her mother’s cheek. “All this time...”
“But why didn’t Earl speak up sooner?”
“Nathan figures he was really afraid. He’d seen Robert frame Daniel and kill him just a few hours later. He had an intellectually disabled son to raise. Earl probably figured no one would believe the word of a junk man over the rising young manager at the plant—especially since Earl was quite a drinker in those days. And if that happened and Robert was set free, Earl knew he’d be next to die.”
Clenching her fists, Sara launched herself from her chair and stalked to the window, then turned back. “I can’t wait to talk to Clay about this.”
Bernice shook her head. “Nathan confronted him yesterday. A few hours later, Clay had a heart attack.”
“Did he die?”
“He’s at the hospital in Fargo, but I hear he isn’t doing very well. I know it’s terrible to say, but I don’t feel sorry for him.”
“So all this time, the awful things people said about Dad were based on lies.”
Bernice swallowed hard. “I blamed your dad for killing that poor man, for committing suicide and leaving us alone. But I was sure I’d driven him to it.”
“No, you couldn’t have done that.”
“Some wife I was—always complaining that we didn’t have enough money. That we couldn’t buy enough presents for you kids.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I was sure he must have confronted Frank about a raise and went over the edge when the man refused. I thought it was my fault that dear old Frank Grover died.”
“Oh, Mom.” Sara wrapped her in a fierce hug.
“Maybe that’s why I stayed here, even when most everyone shunned us for years.” Her voice faded to a broken whisper. “It was no more than I deserved.”
“But now people will hear the truth. You don’t need to hide anymore, Mom. I’m going to make sure this is covered in the local paper so everyone knows. I’ll call Kyle, too.”
“I just want Daniel’s name cleared. He deserves that, after his own wife spent twenty-five years blaming him for something he didn’t do.”
