The Last Lie Told (Finley O’Sullivan, #1)(84)

“Her?” Holmes had a sister? The possibilities flashed like a movie on fast-forward in Finley’s head.

“I don’t think Doug wanted another one,” Chester said. “He was afraid it would be like the boy. He told Wanda they weren’t having no more kids. Period.”

“I guess Doug thought they were in the clear since she’d had so many problems. You know, down there.” Gladys sighed. “But next thing you know, she was pregnant at forty years old.”

Still reeling at the news, Finley asked. “The boy was seven?” She’d figured it was better to confirm, since little else in the file had been correct.

“He was,” Chester said. “He’d finished first grade that year, and then his birthday was right before school started back.”

“If you’re convinced this was a murder-suicide,” Finley said, “why was it officially listed as a home invasion?”

“Doug and Joe were friends,” Chester explained. “Close friends. I guess he didn’t want to believe his friend would kill his wife and then himself. I figure he’s the one that got rid of the rifle and maybe the other stuff to make it look like something it wasn’t.”

“Did Officer Keaton have a wife or anyone with whom he might have confided his thoughts on the case?”

“He had a wife. Don’t know if she got the real story, though,” Gladys offered. “No one save us ever thought any different than the official report as far as we know.”

“Did you talk to anyone about your feelings?”

“We decided it was best if we stayed quiet,” Chester said. “It wasn’t going to change anything. They were dead. They had no other family. No need to make it any worse than it was. Dead’s dead.”

Finley could see how they’d come to that conclusion, but the lawyer in her couldn’t get right with it. “Charles was put in foster care?”

“Over in Alabama,” Gladys said. “We never did know where he ended up until that big trial in Nashville a few years back.”

“What about the little girl?” This was the part that had Finley’s pulse racing.

“Officer Keaton seen to it that she was adopted.” Chester nodded, sipped his tea.

“How did he do that?” There were laws about those sorts of things. Procedures to be followed. There was absolutely no record of Holmes having had a sibling.

“Well, there really wasn’t any record of the new baby,” Chester said. He placed the sweating glass on the marble-topped table between himself and his wife.

“There had to be medical records,” Finley countered.

“Wanda preferred doing things all natural,” Gladys said. “She never went to the doctor or hospital with either one of her kids. Doug delivered the boy. But he was so mad he refused to deliver the girl.”

“Surely Mrs. Holmes had some sort of help.” This was over the top.

“I helped.” Gladys nodded. “She sent Charlie over here to get me. I almost missed the whole thing, but I helped her finish up. Doug stayed out in the barn the whole time.”

“You got to understand,” Chester said, “these people mostly kept to themselves. Wanda rarely did any of the shopping, or even left the house for that matter. Especially once she looked pregnant. She didn’t get out at all.”

“Nothing wrong with staying home,” Gladys grumbled. “Wanda was a good person.”

“Didn’t say she wasn’t,” Chester pointed out.

“Who could I ask about what happened to the baby?” Finley couldn’t go back to Nashville without something on this baby.

“I guess you could ask Keaton’s wife, Penelope,” Gladys said. “She probably knows who took care of the adoption.”

“Does she still live in Huntland?”

“She’s in Winchester now,” Chester said. “Lives over on North High in one of those fancy historic homes. She was never the friendly type. I doubt she’ll want to talk to you.”

“Unless,” Gladys said with a scowl, “there’s something in it for her.” She sniffed. “That’s just her way,” she added as if attempting to temper her unkind words.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about the boy or his parents?”

“Just odd,” Chester said. “Not necessarily bad, mind you—just plain old odd. Like I said, for the most part they kept to themselves.”

“Thank you so much for your time and the tea.” Finley stood, anticipation roaring in her ears. She had to find that cop’s wife.

Gladys walked her to the door. “Good luck, hon. I hope you find whatever it is you need.”

Finley thanked her. Far more than luck would be required, she imagined, to find the answers she needed. But she had to try.



Keaton Residence

North High Street

Winchester, 2:30 p.m.

Google hadn’t given her much about Joe Keaton or his wife, Penelope, but she had learned when they’d purchased the historic home and how much it had cost. Only a few months after the murders, and it cost far more than a cop could afford on a small-town salary.

She had a feeling about what had happened to the baby girl, and it was more like a sale than an adoption. She also suspected the money and other items missing from the Holmes house had gone toward the purchase price of this property.