by Laura Greene
All around, the walls are dotted with images. They are mostly of Lila Hendry in her pretty yellow dress, posing on a sunny day in a field filled with daisies. Something catches Jane's eye. There are shelves filled with binders. Each one bears the name of a month, and the collection goes back several years as far as Jane can tell. Could these contain photos of his victim? Maybe others, too? thinks Jane.
One binder lies on a table, open. It is dated for this month. Jane, rather than rushing out to confront Franklin, feels a deep urge to see what is in that binder. She walks over to it quietly.
“I didn't mean to do wrong,” comes a voice from the doorway.
Jane spins around, her gun pointing at the stooped figure of Franklin who is glaring at her with tears in his eyes. He is not carrying his gun.
“I know I shouldn't 'av taken those photos. But I j... just like to keep 'em, and I want to make sure Lila is safe at night. I just take pictures of her. I swear. I know I w... was wrong...”
Looking at the pathetic figure of Franklin, he seems now more like a young boy than a man in his thirties.
“Franklin, you didn't kill Mr. Hendry, did you?”
“Mr. Hendry?” says Franklin. “No, he w... was so kind to me.”
Jane turns to the photographic binder in front of her. “Are there photos in here from the night Mr. Hendry was killed?”
Franklin nods. “I'm s... sorry, I didn't mean to take 'em. I just do it cause I like to look at 'em. I think a... about living in the house with Lila... B... Being part of the f... family. I don't 'av a family of m... my own.”
Flicking through the binder, Jane sees that each page is dated. On them, there are photos of Lila sleeping at night. That is a felony in and of itself, but Jane is more interested in what she sees perfectly captured by Franklin on the night of Tom Hendry's murder. “Franklin,” she says, turning to him quickly. “Get your rifle.”
“That won't be necessary,” comes a cold reply from the hallway. Charles Hendry is pointing Franklin's rifle at Jane through the doorway. “Throw me your weapon, Sheriff. I will shoot, and believe me, I won't miss.”
“You'll kill me anyway,” says Jane, her gun sitting on the table in front of her with the binder.
Charles smiles. “Not if I don't have to, Jane. I do like you, and I think you like me. We can get through this if you'll just listen.”
Franklin is now sitting in the corner of the room, staring at the ground. His fragile mind is unable to comprehend what is about to happen.
“You killed your own father!” Jane says loudly.
“I... I didn't want to...” says Charles. “But he was always butting in on my life. He threatened to cut me off...”
“How could you do something so hideous to him? Hanging him up and bleeding him dry?”
Charles explains in distant fashion. “All those years of being spoken to like a child; I'd had enough. I sent those letters just to scare him. I swear that's all I wanted to do. But then... That night, he told me he was cutting my financial line... I followed him up the stairs during an argument. He fell and banged his head. I swear he stopped breathing. I panicked and...the thought came to me...I thought about the letters I'd sent him. It was like one of the plots in his books; it just fit. Maybe I could make it look like one of his crazed readers had taken his stories too literally and carried out their own murder, with Dad being the victim.”
Jane glances at her gun next to the binder on the table.
“Don't... Don't even think about it...” says Charles, readying his aim.
“Charles! No!” comes another voice. One which was, until just 30 minutes ago, sound asleep in Conwell House. It’s Lila. She is standing outside the cabin. She followed the light into the woods, not wanting to be left alone. She was too scared to yell out in case the killer heard her. Then, she stood outside the hut and heard everything Charles said.
“How could you! Dad loved you!” she cries out at the top of her lungs.
For the first time, Charles' cool exterior wanes. He indeed hated his father, but he loves his sister. Hearing her now know the horrid truth of his actions breaks his heart. “Please, sis. Understand... I didn't mean...”
“I hate you!” Lila screams from outside the hut. “I'll never forgive you!”
Charles looks at the gun in his hand. He momentarily moves it as though he is going to turn it on himself.
“No, Charles... Don't rob Lila of the only family she has left,” pleads Jane.
“Nah,” says Charles, smiling. “I’m not the suicide type.” He runs off down the hallway, out of the cabin and past Lila. He disappears into the woods. Indeed, he is athletic.
Jane barely has time to grab her gun and chase after him. As she emerges from the tree line, she sees the armed figure of Charles running across the perfect lawn, the now-darkened windows of Conwell House looking on. Charles is lit up by the flashing lights of Deputy Morris's car, which pull up next to the cherub fountain and stand on the gravel path. He sees the sheriff chasing Tom Hendry's only son and so draws his revolver, pointing his gun at Charles who is running towards him and the house.
“Charles! Stop!” screams Jane.
But he doesn't stop. He cares for Jane and will not shoot her, but Deputy Morris is just another hurdle on his route to escape. Pointing the rifle, he shoots at Deputy Morris. The deputy leaps to the ground out of the way of the bullet as it penetrates the driver's side of the patrol car and shatters the porcelain face of the cherub at the fountain. A loud bang sounds. At first, Jane thinks it is the sound of the cherub shattering. But it is more than that. Smoke unfurls itself from the barrel of Deputy Morris' revolver, and Charles Hendry drops down dead, there on the lawn of his family home. A scream is heard; the same scream Lila Hendry let out when she found her own father murdered.
The entire ordeal took its toll on Jane. Poor Lila Hendry left Wild Cove behind, putting Conwell House up for sale. It was the place of too many tragedies. Jane herself wondered if a house could be so stained by such events that it would cause only pain in the future. She thought the old house should be bulldozed, and something more positive built on the ground. The last Jane heard, Lila was living in L.A., wanting nothing to do with small towns ever again. Jane hoped she'd find peace, one day.
Franklin the gardener, though guilty of prowling and taking photos of Lila while she slept, was charged and given a suspended sentence. His learning difficulties made it impossible to hold him accountable. Charles would probably have pinned Tom Hendry's murder on Franklin himself given the chance. If Charles had just waited a moment longer, he would have discovered that the binder of photographs did not show him murdering his father. All it showed was Charles arguing with him at the foot of the stairs. But that would have been enough to make Jane suspicious. She just let him explain what happened after that. Give a murderer enough rope...thought Jane. And he'll hang himself.
Emotionally exhausted, two days after Lila left town, Jane has decided to clear the air with Jack once and for all. Picking up the phone from her drafty farmhouse, she dials Jack's number nervously. The phone rings. Then, an answer.
“Hello?” says the voice of an unknown woman.
Jane's heart sinks. “Who... Who is this? Where's Jack?”
“Oh, Jack is out at the moment,” says the woman. “I'm Martina; can I take a message for when he gets back?”
Jane hangs the phone up. Martina, his ex-girlfriend... His parents were right, Jane thinks, her eyes filling up with tears. With her heart broken Jane shakes off all logic, opens a bottle of wine and drinks glass after glass until the world is a haze. In that fog-filled state of mind, she comes to a decision. She will leave Wild Cove once and for all. But Wild Cove has other plans in mind for Jane Scott; it will not relinquish its grip so easily.
Also by Laura Greene
Wild Cove Mystery Series
Murder At Wild Cove Book 1
Susan Dern is Missing Book 2
The Past Life of Jane Scott Book 4
The Ho
oded Figure Book 5
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About the Author
Laura Greene is an international bestselling Murder Mystery author. She loves the outdoors. Hiking, exploring new adventures in nature and spending time with her family make for some of her favorite moments in life. When she’s not writing a new Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, she loves to connect with her readers whom she considers her friends. Join Laura Greene on Facebook.