The Last Lie Told (Finley O’Sullivan, #1)(85)

Penelope had never remarried or held a job. She lived well on her husband’s retirement and the large insurance payout she’d received when he was killed on the job.

That was the other interesting aspect. Keaton had transferred from Huntland to Winchester a couple of years after the murders. Then, ten years later he was shot in his cruiser while eating his lunch. No one witnessed the shooting. There hadn’t been any body cams in the Winchester Police Department nearly two decades ago. His murder remained unsolved.

Finley rang the doorbell. The yapping that followed was from a tiny white dog that stood in a window staring out at her.

The door opened, and Penelope Keaton considered Finley. “Can I help you?”

“My name is Finley O’Sullivan, and I’m trying to locate the daughter of Wanda and Douglas Holmes.”

Penelope flinched at the name. Panic widened her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about that family. I’m afraid I can’t help—”

Before she could say more, Finley rushed on, “This is concerning an estate that has been left to her, and there’s a substantial reward for whomever helps me find her.”

The panic faded. “An estate? I was under the impression there was no extended family.”

So much for her not knowing anything about the family.

“I suppose that’s what everyone thought,” Finley said, running with her cover story. “Apparently Wanda had fallen out with her family when she married Douglas, and they lost touch. Her mother recently passed away, and my firm has the task of finding the heirs. Since Wanda died, that leaves no one but her children. We’ve located the son, but he knows nothing of what happened to his sister.”

Worry surfaced in Penelope’s eyes, and her posture stiffened. “I’m not sure I can help you. It’s been a long time.”

“Any help you can provide would be greatly appreciated, and as I said, there is a substantial reward.”

Penelope blinked. “I can certainly try, but I can’t make any promises.” Her words were tentative.

Ah, money. There was never enough.

“I’d really hate for her to be left out of her inheritance.”

“Leave me your name and number,” Penelope said, “and I’ll let you know if I can find out what became of her. I remember my husband said she was adopted privately, but I don’t know the details. My husband passed away, so . . .” She shrugged.

There she went, laying whatever happened at her dead husband’s feet. Finley withdrew a business card from her bag and passed it to the lady.

“Thank you so much. I look forward to hearing from you.”

Finley walked to her Subaru, climbed in, and drove around the block. Then she parked a short distance from the Keaton home to watch. Penelope Keaton wouldn’t wait long before making some sort of move to earn that substantial reward. Being a cop’s wife, she likely knew better than to use the phone or email to make that move.

Finley was counting on her making an in-person attempt. Hopefully right away.

Less than half an hour later, Keaton left her house and hit Interstate 24 all the way to Nashville. Finley followed, keeping a safe distance. Keaton drove to Sylvan Park Lane, parked in front of a neat little bungalow, and went to the door. After a couple of knocks the door opened, and she went inside.

Finley had called Jack during the drive and given him an update. Unless the status had changed in the last half hour, there was still no news on the search for the twins or for Cherry. Finley was more convinced than ever that Cherry was in this up to her eyeballs.

The sister connection could be nothing. A waste of time. But Finley couldn’t ignore it. She thought of all the female followers that had flocked after Holmes. Several had criminal records. Others didn’t. Most were attractive.

But the only one on Finley’s radar was Cherry Prescott Inglewood. She was the right age. She didn’t have the same startling blue eyes as Holmes, but her eyes were definitely blue. Really dark, but blue nonetheless. The rub was that her background search showed her parents were still alive, and there was nothing that suggested she had been adopted. With a private adoption and basically a newborn, it was possible she might not be aware she’d been adopted. Either way, Finley intended to confirm the identity of the sister.

Her cell vibrated on the console. She glanced at the screen.

Matt.

“Hey.” Was she supposed to have called him back on something? Sleep deprivation was scrambling her brain. “Did I forget to call you back?”

“No. No. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. With Cherry Inglewood missing and the twins MIA, I was worried about you. I heard you were questioned downtown.”

Finley leaned fully against the seat. Too damned tired. “Apparently I was the last person besides her husband to talk to Cherry before she disappeared.”

“You believe she’s more a part of this case than you first thought?”

“I do. I tracked down the neighbors of Holmes’s biological parents. Looks like their deaths weren’t as cut and dried as the case file showed.” She shared the details the Wrights had claimed and the news about the little sister as well as her own thoughts regarding her identity.

“Could Inglewood really be the sister?” Matt asked.

“I can’t be sure, but it makes sense. She may have been the mystery woman who visited him. The Alisha Arrington.”