“I want to go home,” Fletcher said. “Would that be okay?”
Jolie took his hand. “Of course. We’ll get you there as soon as we can.”
Emma had a weak signal, but she managed to call 911. She identified herself to the dispatcher and gave her the rundown of the situation. They needed an ambulance, and they needed to put out an alert to find Rex Campbell.
Adalyn sniffled and collapsed onto the grass. “Yank saw a shadow or heard a click or something. He shoved me to the ground. He took the bullet...” She raised her chin to Emma. “He saved my life.”
Emma turned to Fletcher. “You did a series of paintings of the River Cherwell in Oxford.”
He squared his thin shoulders and shook his head, adamant. “One painting. My last one. I told Rex. He paints better than he lets on. He likes Oxford. He painted the river, too. Copied me. Cheater.”
“Hell, Fletcher,” Jolie said. “Has Rex been faking your work?”
The old man didn’t answer. He sat next to Adalyn and patted her knee. “You’ll be fine, dear. What’s your name?”
Emma shifted to Jolie. “What do you know, Jolie?”
“Nothing, but I’ve been uncomfortable since I got back from England. I blamed it on Stefan Petrescu’s death. It was so upsetting. Fletcher knew he was failing last fall. Ophelia was very sick by then. They never saved any money. He did one fantastic painting of the river in Oxford before they came home. Then he worked off photographs to do a series. He was obsessed. He started at least ten different paintings, but every single attempt was crap. He never finished any of them.”
“What happened to the one that was good?”
Jolie sighed. “That’s the one Graham bought.”
“And the attempts? Where are they?”
“Burned up in the fire, mostly. Ophelia and Rex wanted to put together an inventory to help with finances, but it was too late. Rex took it in stride. For all he did for his parents, they left him with nothing but debts and problems.” She paused. “Only two of Fletcher’s paintings survived the fire. They’re not in great shape but they should sell. One of the crap river paintings survived, too. I haven’t had the heart to tell Rex it’s worthless. Fletcher didn’t keep much inventory. It’s lucky there were even two solid works that survived. They’re authentic. I’d swear to it. I know Fletcher. I know his work.”
He was still sitting in the grass next to a shaken Adalyn. His chin popped up. “Rex copies me all the time. Pisses me off. Ophelia told me to lay off him.”
“Where did you get the gun?” Emma asked him again. “Can you remember?”
His eyes lit up. “Rex. Rex gave it to me. I was scared. I heard a gun go off. He didn’t want me to be scared. All my years here...” He frowned, glancing around him. “What is this place? I want to go home. Jolie, can you take me home?”
“Of course, Fletcher. Just sit tight, okay?”
“When did Rex leave here?” Emma asked her.
“Thirty or forty minutes ago.”
Time enough to get to Heron’s Cove. “Tamara,” Emma said, “where were you when—”
“I was in Heron’s Cove. I went up there Sunday afternoon to meet Graham Blackwood at his rental house. I never saw him. Someone grabbed me and shoved me into the back of my rental car. Next thing I knew I woke up in the cellar. I had no idea where I was. Have you found my car?”
Emma shook her head. “It isn’t here.”
Tamara frowned. “It’s not? Then where is it? Still in Heron’s Cove? I was transferred to another vehicle, then. I don’t remember much, sorry. I was injected...” She paused, licked her chapped, cut lips. “Opioids, I suspect.”
“We found opioids at the Blackwoods’ rental house,” Emma said.
Tamara didn’t look surprised. “Planted,” she said without hesitation.
Emma tried Colin, but the call didn’t connect given the lousy signal. She texted him. It’s Rex. He could be in Heron’s Cove.
But why?
To plant more evidence. He didn’t plan to take the blame for what he’d done.
She clutched her phone in her hand. “Fletcher mentioned Rex went shooting with Graham,” she said, addressing Jolie. “Is that true? Does Rex know how to shoot a rifle?”
Jolie shrugged. “Oh, sure. He’s a damn good shot.”
Yank stirred at the sound of sirens from the vehicles of the approaching first responders. Tamara kept pressure on Yank’s wound as she gave her daughter a weak, encouraging smile. “We’ll get through this, Adalyn. We’ll get through it together.”
“I liked Rex, Mom,” Adalyn said softly.
“We both did,” Jolie said. “He took my van on Sunday. The bastard’s going to try to pin everything on me.”
“Tough to give up the goodies,” Yank mumbled, stirring as the first police cars arrived. “Emma?”
She heard the emotion in his voice and understood what he was asking. “We’ll see to Lucy, Yank.”
“Thanks,” he said, and passed out.
25
Heron’s Cove, Maine
“There it is.”
Sister Cecilia pointed at Tamara McDermott’s rental car, tucked behind a garden shed down the hill from the convent vegetable garden. Colin had arrived at the convent’s main gate to meet Kevin when she intercepted them. They followed her down a dirt lane to the shed on the opposite side of the peninsula from where she and Emma had found Graham Blackwood’s body.
“I didn’t find the car myself,” Sister Cecilia said. “Another sister discovered it a little while ago when she came down here to dump compost. We collect it from the gardens and kitchens and then dump it here every few days.”
Colin took a look inside the car. He wasn’t surprised to see opioid patches and syringes on the front passenger seat.
“I’ll call it in,” Kevin said. He turned to the young nun. “Did you or the sister who found the car touch anything?”
Sister Cecilia shook her head, adamant. “We’re familiar with basic police procedures.” She glanced at the car. “Unfortunately.”
“Understood,” Kevin said.
“Sister Bernadette—she’s the one who found the car—told me she saw a small van coming out of here Sunday afternoon, probably a bit after I heard the voices down on the water by the gazebo while I was looking for mushrooms. She didn’t think anything of it. Someone turning around, lost. It was a white van with Massachusetts plates. Do you want me to get her?”
“That’s okay, Sister,” Kevin said. “Let’s wait for the detectives.”
Sam Padgett had checked in to let Colin know Tamara McDermott didn’t get on the ferry in Portland. Made sense now that he and Kevin were looking at her car. Colin noticed Sister Cecilia was squinting past him toward the lane that led to the convent’s main gate. “What is it, Sister?” he asked her.
“I saw Timothy Sharpe on the trail to the gazebo.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
Kevin frowned at her. “What were you doing there?”
She scrunched up her face, a touch of defiance about her. “I was looking for mushrooms.”
“Mushrooms, huh?”
Sister Cecilia flushed. “Yes, Officer Donovan. I can’t be afraid to look for mushrooms. I live here. It’s my home. I went alone. I shouldn’t have, I know, but I did. Mother Natalie asked us to go about our routines in pairs, at least until you make an arrest.” She paused, still with that look of defiance. “You being the police, I mean.”
Kevin crossed his arms on his chest. “You weren’t doing a little detective work of your own?”
“No, I wasn’t. Anyway, I didn’t get far. Sister Bernadette came and got me about the car. Mr. Sharpe passed me on the main trail. I was still on the path down from the convent.”
“Did you see anyone else on the trail?”
�
�No, and I didn’t speak with Mr. Sharpe.”
Colin shifted to Kevin. “Can you stay here with Sister Cecilia? I’ll go see what’s up with Timothy.”
“Meet you there as soon as I get free,” Kevin said.
Sister Cecilia sniffed. “I don’t need anyone to stay with me.”
“I meant free of the detectives,” Kevin said with a wink. “Easy, okay?”
“Sorry. I woke up...” She paused, thinking. “Angry.”
Kevin nodded. “Good.”
Colin left them. Sister Cecilia had gone pale again, but she was handling herself well. Kevin wasn’t easily ruffled. Colin followed the dirt lane back out to the gate and walked along the black-iron fence that enclosed the main convent grounds. He almost missed the path to the waterfront trail, but Sister Cecilia had left a small basket of mushrooms tucked on the roots of a pine tree. He picked up his pace once he was on the rough trail, feeling a sense of urgency he couldn’t define. Had Tamara parked the car by the sisters’ shed herself? Had someone else? Was she hidden on convent grounds, somewhere else in the area—would the police find her body when they searched the area around the car?
When Colin reached the water, he turned toward the gazebo. Best to get his father-in-law out of here. He continued on the wider trail out to the gazebo where Sister Cecilia and Emma had discovered Graham Blackwood’s body. The tide was rising, a cormorant diving off the point. Colin welcomed the steady, refreshing breeze off the water. He’d like to be taking this walk under better circumstances—with Emma, checking out tide pools and seabirds instead of with a man’s death and a woman’s disappearance weighing on him.
The trail wound through tall spruce trees. Their pungent scent mingled with the saltiness in the air from the sea, his own sweat. He trusted his instincts, but knew better than to jump ahead of the facts. When he reached the gazebo, no one was there. He noticed a six-inch length of yellow crime scene tape that had been left behind, but otherwise there was no sign a man had died here.
He stood on the ledge above the water. A Rock Point lobster boat was working its string down toward the cove and the house the Blackwoods had rented. The New York couple who owned the house had gotten their cleaning crew in to scrub it top to bottom. They were lining up painters. They didn’t want any reminders of the tragedy with the British couple who’d stayed there a few days.
Colin checked his signal to call Emma but stopped abruptly. Directly below the ledge, a man was facedown in the water. His head popped up. He gasped for air, reached forward with one arm as if he were trying to swim or grab hold of something.
Timothy Sharpe.
He rode the back of a wave into the face of the ledge. He flailed, but he couldn’t get a decent grip on the steep, wet rock. Another wave smashed into him, pulled him away from the ledge.
His bad back, the cold water even in summer—he was in trouble.
Colin shoved his phone into his jacket pocket. “Timothy! Hang on. I’m coming.”
He ran down the trail, away from the gazebo and the ledge. He cut through trees to the water’s edge. He looked around for a branch, something he could use to help pull Timothy into shore. How the hell had he ended up in the water?
Rex Campbell suddenly appeared from behind a spruce tree on the edge of the water. He was up to his knees in the incoming tide, balanced precariously on rocks. He lunged as if to jump into the water. Colin grabbed him, yanked him up off the rocks and threw him facedown onto the ground. “Keep your hands where I can see them and don’t move.”
“I wasn’t attacking you. I was going to help Timothy Sharpe. He’s in the water—”
Colin patted him down but didn’t find a weapon.
“I haven’t done anything. I’m not your problem. I saw Timothy Sharpe on the trail. I wanted to talk to him to find out if he saw anything on Sunday, but he fell in the water. Is he high on opioids? It’s not his fault. My mother—I saw what can happen with these drugs.”
Kevin appeared and eased down to them. “Hold on to him,” Colin said, handing Kevin his gun. “I need to get Timothy out of the water. He’ll drown if I don’t.”
“I’ve got Rex,” Kevin said. “State guys heard from Emma. She’s been trying to reach us. Rex here is our guy. The rest can wait. Go.”
Colin pulled off his jacket, tossed it onto a dry rock and plunged into the cold Maine water. He couldn’t wait for rescuers. Kevin would get them here as soon as possible. He could hear his brother placing Rex under arrest, reciting his rights.
Rex wasn’t shutting up. “You’re wrong, wrong, wrong. I haven’t hurt anyone! It’s Jolie Romero. It’s all Jolie. She provided my mother with illegal painkillers. She used what was left over after her death to set up Graham and Verity. She wanted Timothy Sharpe to take the blame for the drugs. She knows he’s had problems with opioid abuse. Graham was suspicious, too. He told me so.” Rex paused, breathed. “Graham was going to get Adalyn’s mother involved. Jolie couldn’t have that. She came up here on Sunday and killed him and grabbed Tamara. I left her and Adalyn with Special Agent Yankowski at the farm just now. My dad, too. I had to get up here. I’m telling you, I’m innocent. She’s framing me.”
Colin heard everything Rex said but didn’t break stride. He caught a swell and rode the back of a wave toward Timothy, who was clearly losing motor control with the cold and the effort to stay afloat and grab on to a rock, a tree root—anything. The water was deeper below the ledge, and Colin swam the last few feet to his father-in-law. He got hold of him, his thin body slack with exhaustion, and pulled him to a flat boulder and then up and out of the water.
Timothy lay on his back, his lower legs dangling off the boulder as another wave crashed against the ledge, spraying salt water. Colin checked Timothy’s carotid for a pulse. His skin was cold, bluish, but he was alive.
“Tim...it’s Colin. Can you speak to me?”
“I fell.” He coughed slightly, shivering. “I slipped.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Bruised. My leg and my back. Doesn’t matter. I’m okay. I just need to get my feet under me.” He grabbed Colin’s wrist and tried to raise himself up. “Emma?”
“She’s fine. She’s with Yank at the Campbell farm.” Close enough, anyway. “Sit tight. Help’s on the way.”
Timothy managed a faltering grin. “Not going to carry me on your back?”
“We need to get you warm.”
Kevin had Rex in handcuffs and tossed Colin his jacket. He tucked it around Timothy, who was suffering from at least mild hypothermia. He tried to hold the edges of the jacket, but his fingers didn’t cooperate. “I keep a stash of OxyContin at the house. My doctor prescribed them. Last one I took was—” His lips trembled with the cold. “It was more than a month ago, after your wedding. I didn’t tell Faye. It was just the one pill.”
“We can talk later, Timothy. Conserve your strength and get warm.”
“I don’t know how many pills were left. Ten, maybe. Someone could have taken some of them and slipped them to Verity Blackwood. I didn’t give them to her or to Graham. I didn’t know them in London. We didn’t talk about drugs. I’d have told you.”
“I know, Tim. Just relax.”
“Help’s three minutes out,” Kevin yelled to them.
Timothy struggled to speak. “I’m not in pain. I didn’t take any drugs. Must be the cold water.” His eyes fluttered shut. “I lost my footing.”
“Did you see anyone else?” Colin asked him.
“Fletcher Campbell’s son. He wanted to talk to me. I slipped. Colin...” Timothy opened his eyes. “I have a bad heart. If I don’t make it, make sure my family knows... I tried, but I’m okay. I’m okay.”
Kevin splashed toward them. “Local officers are here. Rescue crew is still sixty seconds out. How bad, Colin?”
“He’s weak. He’s lost a lot of body heat. He couldn’t get himself out of the
water with his back injury.”
“I’m throwing out the pain pills when I get home.” Timothy’s eyes were shut again. “I don’t think any were stolen. They’re a crutch I don’t want or need.”
“It’s okay, Tim,” Colin said. “I’m here for you. I’ll meet you at the hospital. I’ll get Faye. Don’t worry.”
Two EMTs arrived in helmets, with rescue gear and a stretcher. A marine patrol boat eased around the point. Colin had to back off while they got his father-in-law onto the stretcher. He went with Kevin back to Rex, who was in the custody of a female officer Colin recognized from Rock Point.
Rex raised his gaze to Colin. “You two have this all wrong, Agent Donovan. Jolie betrayed her friendship with my parents. My mother was dying. My father was losing it. He did one last, good painting of the river in Oxford, and she decided to make it the first in a series, with his help. Graham bought that painting, but he picked up one of Jolie and my father’s collaborations.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“That’s what it was. She needed to be up front about it, but a collaboration wouldn’t be worth as much as a solo work. Stefan Petrescu figured it out, but he thought it was a mistake and gave me forty-eight hours to straighten things out. I had no idea what he was talking about. I mentioned it to Jolie. She panicked, I think. Her reputation. What people would do when they found out.” Rex paused, all innocence as he looked up at Colin. “She killed Stefan. At first I didn’t think his death was related to his questions about the painting. Honestly, I didn’t. Then Verity and Graham showed up in Boston, and she overdoses and he’s killed—I think Jolie did something to Adalyn’s mother, too. You have to believe me.”
Colin shook his head. “Why would Jolie do all that, Rex?”
He didn’t hesitate. “She’s devoted to my father. She’s the one woman he never had in bed. It’s a source of pride for her. As if he respected her too much to sleep with her. She wanted to help. I think she felt sorry for me, too. Thought I wouldn’t manage on my own. I let her stay at the farm whenever she wanted after the fire. She was there last night. She told Adalyn she was out with friends, but she wasn’t. I played right into her hands by being stupid.”
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