Bitterroot Lake, Alicia Beckman [good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT] 📗

job for the company, and I don’t get to say boo, because I’m not running the business. Unless you killed him. You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“God, no, Sally. How can you say that?”

“Joking. Joking. Seems like most of the people who knew Lucas wanted to kill him, at one time or another.”

“He could be a first-class ass,” Connor said. “But if Jeremy was willing to let it go, maybe you should, too.”

“Jeremy?” She straightened. “What does he have to do with this? And don’t you tell me how my husband felt or didn’t feel.”

“Hey, what’s this mysterious trunk?” They heard Holly before they saw her. She stood in the doorway, looking from one sibling to the other. “What? What’s up?”

Holly’s words echoed Sarah’s own demands. They were all on edge right now. Sarah cradled the top of her head. She was sick of secrets. Parts of the story weren’t theirs to tell. But if it weighed this heavily, it might be time to lift the burden.

They told him about the letters. About Janine racing up to Deer Park to confront Lucas, only to find him dead on his office floor. About Leo’s suspicions and Nic’s attempt to piece together the truth, to bolster Janine’s defense and identify the real killer.

Through it all, Connor kept a closed face. When Sarah finished, he spoke to Holly. “So that’s why you’re here. This isn’t a girlfriends’ week to reconnect and comfort Sarah?”

Holly’s silence was his answer.

“How do you know the letters came from Lucas?” he continued.

“We don’t. Not for sure. But the four of us and Lucas are the only people”—Sarah stopped, correcting herself—“were the only people still living who were here that day. And we have no reason to threaten each other.”

“But why would he threaten you? I mean …” He ran a hand over his reddish-brown hair, in need of a trim. “Why bring it up now? Why do anything?”

“That’s what we don’t know,” Holly said. “One theory is that Lucas had plans to run for office and wanted to make sure we kept quiet.”

“About the assault.” Connor’s gaze narrowed and he glanced between them. “What else?”

“She ran from him, bruised and bloody, crying.” Sarah’s throat hurt, the rage unspoken for so long. “We were all there. The guys tried to confront him but he jumped in the car. They tried to stop him but …”

“And that’s when the accident happened.” Connor wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist.

“I—” Guts, Sarah, guts. “I have never been sure it was an accident. Yes, the moose came out of the borrow pit. Yes, Lucas was angry and even afraid. But …”

“You think—oh, God. You think he crashed that car on purpose,” Connor said. “Killing one man and nearly killing another.”

“I never knew you thought that,” Holly said. “I thought that was just my crazy theory.”

“I suspect each of us came to that same conclusion. The girls. Not Jeremy. Never Jeremy.”

“Holy crap,” Connor said. “I never would have hired Erickson …”

“I know,” Sarah said. “I know. The story never got out. Janine decided not to press charges, after what happened. We all thought he’d go to prison for the wreck. We never imagined he’d get off scot-free.”

Connor’s eyes were guarded, and she saw in this giant man the little boy who’d chased after his sisters on the lakefront lawn, who’d stepped into the family business young, working alongside their ailing father for years, keeping it going against all odds. And now, apparently, expanding it.

They heard the front door open. Connor poked his head out, then back in. “It’s Leo.”

A moment later, the uniformed sheriff joined the siblings in their grandfather’s office, forgoing the usual hugs, kisses, and handshakes. This was serious.

“If you’re here to see Janine—” Sarah began.

“No. Ms. Lund made crystal-clear that I was not to say anything more than hello to Ms. Chapman outside her presence,” Leo said.

“You’re treating her as a serious suspect,” Connor said.

“Everyone’s a serious suspect,” Leo replied sharply.

“We’ve told him everything,” Sarah said.

“All right. Good. I’m sending the letter and envelope to the state crime lab,” Leo replied, “for fingerprinting and a formal comparison to the others. Though it seems identical. Tell me about it.”

“It came to the house. I don’t remember seeing it, but either the housekeeper or I must have thought it was another condolence card and tucked it in the bag with the rest.”

“Where it stayed until last night,” Leo said, and she nodded.

“If Lucas Erickson was the kind of man who would threaten a woman whose husband had just died,” Holly said, “then he deserved what he got.”

“Probably not the best thing to say in front of the sheriff,” Sarah said, “even if he is our cousin. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Problem is,” Leo said, “that kind of logic gives me a long list of suspects.”

Was she imagining that his attention settled on her brother a moment too long? Surely Leo didn’t suspect his own family. Surely if he did, he’d bring in outside investigators.

“What if,” Connor said, “Janine heard about his ambitions—they’re hardly a secret—and decided this was the time to stop him? Times have changed.”

Easy to say, hard to believe. As the mother of both a young man and a young woman, she hoped sheriffs no longer told young women to get over it, to think about the man’s reputation. Leo would never say such a thing. But the rest of his ilk? She wasn’t convinced.

And why did Connor sound like he wanted Janine to be guilty?

A thick silence filled the room. In the distance, the chainsaw whirred.

“What if,” Holly broke in, “we misunderstood? The letter said ‘only you know what to do.’ We took that as a warning to keep silent, but what if it’s the opposite, telling us to speak out?”

“But who?” Sarah asked. Holly couldn’t mean … “No. If Janine decided it was finally time to expose him, to derail his ambitions, why not just do it? Besides, he’s run for office before and she didn’t