“Hi,” Jillian said, her voice a bit breathless. “I’m Jillian.”
The phone rang again. His aunt sighed and closed her eyes for a brief second. When she opened them, she said, “That thing hasn’t stopped ringing since Frank went in the hospital. I hate not to answer, it might be the hospital.” She bit her lip as she eyed Jillian, then looked back at Colton.
He said, “It’s all right. Jillian knows almost everything about . . . everything.”
The phone demanded attention. His aunt drew in a breath. “All right. The notes are in his office. Why don’t you wait there? I’ll try to just be a minute.”
“Okay.” Colton took Jillian’s small hand in his and strode down the hall to slip inside his uncle’s sanctuary. He almost felt guilty, like he was trespassing and bringing a traitor with him.
But no, his uncle was the traitor, not Jillian.
He stepped to the side and studied the room that had been tastefully decorated by his aunt. She’d created a man’s space. A heavy cherry desk dominated a large portion of the area. A leather couch lined one wall. A matching leather chair was behind the desk. Pictures of Frank with well-known people dotted the credenza behind the leather chair. The place was neat to the point of immaculate.
Colton walked to the credenza and picked up a picture.
“Nice office,” Jillian said from behind him.
“Yeah.” Colton frowned.
“Your aunt decorated it for him, didn’t she?”
He lifted a brow. “Yes.”
“I can tell.” She took a seat on the couch.
Hunter walked in and Colton asked, “Did Rick get here that fast?”
“No. Katie’s there supervising. I figured you might need some moral support.”
Colton gave his friend a sad smile. “I won’t turn that down.” Hunter didn’t have to say it, but they both knew it would be best to have another detective with Colton at all times. Just to keep everything aboveboard.
He studied the photo in his hand.
Frank, decked out in his Army uniform with his buddies from his unit around him, stared back with a slight smile and narrowed eyes. Special forces. His uncle had been trained to fight. To kill the enemy. And now Jillian was the enemy and his uncle was after her. Colton wondered if he too was considered an enemy. Would his uncle decide to get rid of him now that he knew Colton was a threat? A chill swept through him, followed by a wave of nausea. He couldn’t believe what he was thinking.
He put the picture back. Deciding to wait on the couch beside Jillian, he took a step toward it, then stopped. A small piece of paper lay just under the wheel of the leather chair.
The scrap stood out in the neatness of the room. Colton leaned down. The words made his heart skip a beat.
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. TELL. OR I WILL.
Without a word he showed it to Hunter, who lifted a brow. “Who’s that from?”
Another chill shuddered through him as he read the words again. “I don’t know.”
Jillian? Would she do that? He looked at her and she looked just as confused as the rest of them. No. Surely not. But if not her, then who? Who else knew what happened that night and wanted the senator to know it? His gut twisted.
Aunt Elizabeth returned. “That was Carmen. She was at a friend’s house when I called. She’s on her way back to the hospital now.”
Colton nodded. “Is this one of the letters?” He pointed to it.
She read it and swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“There’s more?”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth swiped her palms down the front of her khaki pants, a nervous gesture Colton had never seen from her before. She looked at Jillian again. “Do you mind waiting in the hall?”
Jillian started, then shrugged. “Sure.”
She left the room and Colton frowned. He didn’t like her out of his sight.
Elizabeth walked to the desk and slid her hand under the drawer to pull out a key. She looked at Colton. “He keeps the drawer locked but taped the key to the bottom of it. Frank could never keep track of keys.”
Colton lifted a brow, but made no comment on his aunt’s actions. While he didn’t agree with the way she went about searching for evidence against her husband, obviously his uncle had given his wife a reason to doubt him. He felt a pang of hurt for the two of them. She slid the key into the lock and Colton heard the low click.
He opened the drawer and Elizabeth reached in to pull out a manila envelope. “I don’t need to read them again.” She motioned to the leather chair. “Have a seat.”
Colton’s eye caught a name written on a piece of paper in the desk. “Wait a minute. What’s this?”
Hunter pulled on a pair of gloves and reached in to grasp it. “It’s a name. Jillian’s name with a bull’s-eye drawn around it.”
He looked at his aunt. “Uncle Frank thinks Jillian Carter is sending these notes?”
“I don’t know. Like I said, he’s never mentioned the notes or her to me.” Her brow creased. “Is Jillian Carter the girl in the hall?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s ask her.”
“In a minute.” Colton opened the envelope. Then closed it. “This is evidence.” He handed it to Hunter. “You need to process it.”
She frowned. “Evidence? Evidence for what?”
Colton’s heart beat with a painful thud in his chest. He was going to have to tell her his suspicions. “Aunt Elizabeth, I need to talk to you about Uncle Frank.”
Wariness flashed in her eyes. “All right.”
“Someone has accused him of murder.”
She froze. Then lifted a brow and gave a cool little laugh. “Well, that’s just silly. Who’s making these accusations?” She paused and flicked her gaze toward the envelope still in Hunter’s hand, then toward the hall. “The person who sent those notes? This Jillian Carter girl? If she sent those notes, I want her out of my house. Don’t you understand what this has done to your uncle? And you dare bring her here?”
Her outrage cut through him, bringing a surge of guilt along with it. “I’m not sure if it’s the same person or not. I’m thinking not. I know Jillian and it’s not her style to send threatening notes, but we’ll let the lab see what they can find on those letters.”
“Find something like what?”
“Prints, for one. They’ll examine the kind of paper, the ink, everything.”
“And you’ll be able to track the person that way?”
“Possibly, if it’s a special kind of paper.”
“Then—” She stopped and waved a hand in dismissal. “That’s not important right now. Who is he supposed to have murdered?”
Colton glanced at Hunter, who nodded. “Harrison Martin.”
“Harrison?” She gaped at him.
“I know it sounds crazy, but . . . yes.”
“If someone has made this accusation against Frank, what’s going to happen?”
“Right now, there’s no proof.” Except some disturbing coincidences.
“So what’s going to happen?” she asked again. Anxiety pulled her brows into the bridge of her nose. He noticed the fine lines around her eyes for the first time.
Colton rested his hands on her shoulders. “Nothing for now. There’s still no proof that he’s done anything wrong.” Other than there was a bullet in the governor. A bullet Jillian said his uncle put there. And as soon as ballistics finished the report, he’d know if it was an antique bullet. Colton glanced at the gun collection on the wall. Which one?
Elizabeth fussed with the necklace at her throat. “What about the media? Do they have wind of this yet? That he’s been accused of murder?” She lifted a shaking hand to her lips. “Oh, this is just awful.”
Colton’s heart thumped in sympathy for his aunt. “No. Nothing about that yet. And we’re going to do our best to keep it that way.” At least until Frank was arrested. The thought sickened him, but it also felt inevitable. The pieces were slowly coming together. Soon, they’d have
the big picture.
“Oh, he’ll be horrified. It’ll ruin his chances in the election.”
“That’s why we need to get to the truth before that happens.” He paused, then asked, “What can you tell me about the night Governor Martin died? June 6th, 2002.”
“Oh good grief, Colton, that was ten years ago. How am I supposed to remember what happened that night?”
“It was the night of the fundraising party for Frank. You and my parents came to my graduation that afternoon and then you had the party that night. Do you remember the men arguing?”
She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t recall any arguing. No. What time did all this happen?”
“It would have been later, after everyone had left, but before Uncle Frank had his heart attack scare.”
“I . . . I’m sorry. I just don’t . . .” She sank into a nearby chair. “I remember being at the hospital with Frank, of course. He went to bed and woke up around 1:30 or so complaining he couldn’t breathe. I woke Ian and we called 911 and got Frank to the hospital. We were there the rest of the night and for two days after that.”
“It was also the night the police came to the house asking if you’d heard a gunshot?”
She blinked. “I do remember that. I was upstairs and thought I heard something. But it turned out to be a car backfiring, I think.” She rubbed her hands together. “I really think I need to get back to the hospital. I want to be there with Carmen.” Her lips tightened. “Especially if the media show up.”
Colton nodded. How could she not have heard the argument? If there’d been one. But Jillian had described it in detail. He pursed his lips. “I’ll be there as soon as we’re finished here.”
“Should I stay?”
“No, not unless you just want to.”
“I’ll stay a few more minutes, then I need to go. I feel like I should probably be with Frank. I only came home to show you those letters. I didn’t expect this to take so long.” She fretted with the crease in her pants, then smoothed her palms down the front of the material. She pointed a finger toward the hall. Toward Jillian. “If she’s the one that’s caused this mess, then I want her gone.”
33
Jillian’s stomach growled as she paced outside the office, waiting for Colton and Hunter. She wasn’t sure why Elizabeth Hoffman hadn’t wanted her in the room, but that was fine. She needed to think. They’d found the bullet. But the governor had been shot from the back, not the front. How was that possible?
She’d replayed that night over and over in her mind and nothing had changed. She’d seen the senator shoot the governor, the governor facing the senator. She’d seen it.
Or had she?
Colton came out of the office and motioned her in. She followed him inside and took her seat back on the couch. Elizabeth’s glare pinned her and made her want to squirm. She turned her attention to Colton.
He handed her a plastic-encased note. “Have you ever seen this before?”
Jillian read it. “I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. TELL. OR I WILL.” She felt herself weaken. “No.”
He studied her a minute, then nodded. Relief filled her. He believed her.
She asked, “So who wrote it?”
“I don’t know. Aunt Elizabeth doesn’t know either.” He shifted and looked at Hunter. “You’ll have to question my uncle about the letters.”
“I know. When the doctor says it’s all right.”
Jillian bit her lip and said, “I want to reenact that night.”
Colton lifted a brow. He and Hunter exchanged a glance. Hunter gave a slow nod. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”
Elizabeth jumped up. “What on earth are you talking about? Nothing happened that night except for the fact that my husband almost had a heart attack.” Her flushed cheeks told Colton he may have pushed the woman too far.
“Aunt Elizabeth, Jillian was here that night. She saw Uncle Frank shoot Harrison Martin.”
Elizabeth’s fingers curled into fists as though imagining Jillian’s throat trapped within them. “How dare you?”
Colton stood to run interference. “Aunt Elizabeth, please. Just hear her story.”
“I won’t. Get out of my house.”
Jillian stood. “I didn’t send those notes. I did see your husband pull a gun on the governor and pull the trigger.” She frowned and bit her lip. “But the governor was shot in the back and I . . .” She looked at Colton and Hunter. “I didn’t see that.”
“Get out now.” The woman’s cold voice sent shivers up Jillian’s spine. She nodded and headed for the door.
“No, wait.”
Jillian stopped and turned at Colton’s command. He said to his aunt, “I need you to let her do this. For me.”
“No.”
“Aunt Elizabeth,” his voice hardened, “Uncle Frank is being accused of murder and the evidence looks pretty grim. With your help, we might be able to prove he didn’t do it. But I need your cooperation. They’ve already taken his boat as evidence. Now are you going to help me or not?”
Jillian could see the no forming on the woman’s lips. Then she clamped them together. After a tense five seconds, she gave a short nod. “Fine.”
Colton pulled his phone from his pocket. “Serena called.” He looked at Hunter. “Can you give her a call and find out what she wants?” He paused and tucked his phone back in his pocket. “And Rick too. If Jillian’s going to re-create this, we might as well have forensics out here. They can help us get a better picture.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I have to keep reminding myself I’m not on this anymore.”
Hunter started making the calls while Colton led Jillian out of the office. Aunt Elizabeth stayed right on their heels.
At the door to the sunroom, Jillian stopped. Colton saw her swallow hard but square her shoulders.
“You want to wait on Rick?” he asked.
“Yes.” Each time she pulled in a breath, she nearly choked on the thick tension.
As they waited for Rick and his team, Jillian watched Elizabeth Hoffman get antsier by the minute. She finally said, “I’m going to the hospital to be with Frank and Carmen. Do whatever you have to do here.”
Colton nodded. “I’m sorry, but we really need to do this.”
She straightened her shoulders. “Frank didn’t shoot anyone. So prove it before his career is done.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She drilled a hard stare at Jillian. “Who are you? Why do you hate my husband?”
Defensiveness welled up in Jillian. She simply said, “I just want the truth.”
For a moment, the woman didn’t say anything else. She gave an abrupt spin on her heel and left.
Jillian looked at Colton, who sighed and shook his head. “If this turns out the way I think it’s going to, I’ll make sure she has support and someone with her.”
“Yeah, that would probably be a good idea.” She bit her lip, then said, “If the governor was shot in the back, that means there was another person here.”
“I know. You’re sure you don’t remember seeing anyone else?”
“No one. But I wasn’t looking for anyone else. The only people I was aware of were Frank Hoffman and Harrison Martin.”
Colton nodded. Hunter joined them and said, “Katie’s on her way back here with Rick. They’ll work with us on reconstructing the scene.”
Five minutes later, Rick entered the sunroom. Katie followed him, along with a young woman in her late twenties whom Jillian recognized to be Hunter’s younger sister, Christina Graham.
Hunter looked a little surprised to see her. “You’re working in the field now?”
She smiled. “Yep.”
“Cool.”
Jillian got the impression they’d be discussing how that came about at a later time.
Rick looked at Jillian. “I hear we’re reconstructing the scene.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll need every detail you can remember.”
She nodded. “That won’t be hard. I rem
ember everything about that night.”
Colton pulled back to the side to watch and Jillian missed his presence next to her. It was obvious now that he’d officially recused himself and handed over responsibility for the investigation to Hunter. The realization of what it meant brought mixed emotions . . . waves of hope that this would soon be over—and sadness for Colton.
Jillian told what she’d seen. “Then the governor laid the gun on the desk and told Frank to take some time to cool off. He walked out of the office and toward the sunroom. Frank came storming out with the gun. They went through the sunroom and out onto the patio. The governor turned and Frank had the gun on him. They argued some more. Frank lifted the gun, stumbled, and pulled the trigger. And they both fell.”
“Okay,” Rick said. “I think I have a pretty good picture of how that played out. So let’s do some role playing here. I’m going to need some help.” He started pulling tools out of his bag. “How tall was the governor?”
“He was six feet one inch and weighed a hundred ninety-five pounds,” Colton said. Rick lifted a brow at him and Colton shrugged. “I read the original autopsy report.”
Rick eyed Hunter. “You’ll do. Stand where Jillian says the governor was standing when he was shot.”
Jillian positioned him so his back was to the copse of trees, his left side almost touching the side of the sunroom. “No, wait a minute. He’d backed off the porch onto the gravel walkway.” She urged him back farther.
Rick nodded to Colton. “I know you’re not working this investigation anymore, but you can be used for a moment, can’t you? Jillian, place him where Senator Hoffman was.”
Colton moved and Jillian took his hand to show him where to stand. His fingers clasped hers and she felt a shiver dance up her arm. When this was over . . . “He was right here, past the table and chairs, near the edge. The gun was in his left hand.”
He held his thumb and forefinger like a gun and pointed it toward Hunter.
Jillian stepped back and swallowed hard. The memories rushed over her and she couldn’t help the tremor that washed through her. “They argued some more. The senator lifted his gun and pointed it. Then stumbled and pulled the trigger.”
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