“You got it.”
Jane jotted down the words disgruntled clients on the list of possible suspects. “A felon would have had access to roofies or anything else he wanted. And according to her brother, Gail was demanding a lot of money. I want Drew’s finances. Would paying her have taken him down too? Or was he just greedy and didn’t want to pay up? Does he have a girlfriend who might have decided to intervene? This case could go in a lot of different directions.”
Augusta went back to her computer. “We have Finn Presley’s autopsy now too. A timber fell on him. He died instantly.”
“That’s a blessing at least,” Jane said. “No other surprises.”
Jackson cleared his throat. “This probably doesn’t mean anything, but there was no pet in the house. Never has been according to neighbors. Yet there was a sticker on the window. And that sticker was what drove Finn back inside even after they retrieved Gail’s body. He was a huge dog lover, and his fire chief told me he ignored orders to stay out of the house because he was afraid a trapped pet was in there.”
Jane remembered. “‘Save My Pet.’ A sticker left over from a previous owner?”
“Gail and Drew had the house built,” Jackson said.
“Maybe Drew had the pets, and the sticker stayed even after he moved out,” Augusta said.
Jane wrote Save My Pet on the board. “Talk to Drew and see if that’s the case. It’s probably nothing important.”
She took a snapshot of the board with her phone and uploaded it to the files for the rest of them. “Good work, everyone. Let’s get out there and find that killer. Gail deserves justice.”
Eight
Reid crossed the street and dodged a speeding car. He barely missed hitting his thigh on the guy’s bumper. Reckless kid. He batted some hanging moss from a cypress tree out of his way when he stepped onto the curb and reached Scott’s office.
The receptionist looked up with a smile when he yanked open the door. “I only called fifteen minutes ago.”
“I couldn’t believe the papers were ready. You’re fast.”
“Scott wanted them at the top of my to-do list.” She slid the stack across the table to him. “Let me put you in a conference room so you can read them. I’ve got stickers where I need your signature.”
His gut was tense as he followed her down the carpeted hall to a small room containing only a table and chairs. “Thanks.”
“Bring them out when you’re done.” She shut the door behind her.
Reid stared at the papers. They wouldn’t sign themselves. Divorce. Such an ugly word. But their marriage had been over long ago. Lauren’s own choice, not his at the time.
He read through the legalese and jotted his initials on every page where indicated. There was no settlement amount offered to Lauren in the documents, and he was asking for $25,000 in past child support. It wasn’t nearly as much as anyone would have paid, but it was bound to enrage her.
Reid signed his name with a flourish at the final sticker and stood. Even though this wasn’t a done deal yet, he felt a weight lift. His decision felt good.
On his way out, he handed the papers to the receptionist and thanked her again before he stepped out into fresh air scented with roses from a bank of flowers in the lawn. He spotted Officer Jackson Brown exiting a sandwich shop and waved to him.
Jackson waited for Reid to join him. “You looking for the chief?”
“Maybe. Depends on what kind of mood she’s in.” Reid grinned to show he was kidding.
“You’ve got a woman with a one-track mind. Delivering justice is never far from her thoughts. Just finished up a meeting with her and got my marching orders.” He held up his big drink. “After lunch, of course. A big guy like me has to keep up his strength.”
Jackson’s gaze went over Reid’s shoulder, and his smile vanished. He stepped past Reid and handed his sandwich bag and drink to a homeless woman curled against a tree trunk in a small patch of shade.
“Here, ma’am. It’s turkey and salami on rye. And sweet tea with lots of ice.”
The woman appeared to be in her fifties and wore several layers of dresses. A backpack, ratty and dirty, lay propped against the tree trunk beside her.
Her brown eyes widened, and she took Jackson’s offered food hesitantly. “You’re sure?”
“Oh yes. I bought it before realizing I’m not really that hungry.”
She took a long slurp of sweet tea and gave a heartfelt sigh. “That’s good. Thank you, young man.”
“You’re welcome. Is there anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”
Her gaze lifted to his face again. “Your mama raised you right, son. This is all I need right here.” She opened the bag and pulled out the sandwich.
Jackson watched her eat for a moment before he rejoined Reid.
“Nice thing to do,” Reid said.
“Her name is Millie. Her husband died several years ago, and she has no family. When her house in Pensacola was repossessed, she found her way here and has been living on the streets. Mostly she sleeps in the park.”
Just the kind of guy Reid would like to know better. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Want to share a pizza for lunch?”
Jackson consulted the time on his phone. “If we do by-the-slice so I don’t have to wait, I can squeeze that in.”
* * *
The aroma of crawfish étouffée filled Olivia’s small house, and the taste lingered on Jane’s tongue. She put down her napkin. “That was delicious, Megan. I can’t believe you made it by yourself.”
Megan rose and put her plate in the sink. “Thanks, Jane. Mom helped too. I’ll go grab my stuff, and we can get going.”
Jane smiled at the girl’s eagerness to see Will. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes or so.” She reached for Olivia’s plate, then drew back when she saw her friend hadn’t finished. “You didn’t like it?”
“You know I love étouffée, but I-I was having trouble swallowing.” Olivia’s hand trembled as she reached over and grasped Jane’s forearm. “Would you bring me the manila envelope in the drawer to the left of the sink?”
“Sure.” Jane retrieved it and noticed Scott Foster’s firm’s address in the upper left corner.
Olivia had trouble pulling the papers out and shredded the envelope in the process. “You have to see how much I’m deteriorating. I expect the doctor to give me bad news tomorrow, and I want to be prepared for it. I asked Scott to draw up guardianship papers for Megan.” Olivia’s brows drew together over dark-blue eyes. “You’re still willing to care for her?”
Jane’s chest pinched, and she swallowed hard. “Of course, Olivia. You know I love her. But you’re still in the early stages of ALS.”
“Thirty percent die in a year, and 50 percent die in two to five years. This thing seems to be racing right through me. I need to have all my ducks in a row so I can rest in God’s provision for me.”
“I don’t like the way this conversation is going. It sounds like you’re giving up.”
Olivia’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t think I’m going to beat this, Jane. You like to fix things, but sometimes outcomes can’t be changed.”