The Stroke of Winter(64)

“It’s what people do in small towns,” Tess said. “Take care of their own.”

“Yes, we do. But I knew it was just a matter of time. I couldn’t let it go on for much longer. It was a hard decision, getting him into that facility. But in the end, Pop made the decision for himself. It was after the fall.”

“He fell?” Tess’s heart sank at the thought of it.

“Yeah,” Wyatt said. “More than once. But the last straw was when he left ‘for work’ well after midnight, last winter. About a year ago now. One of Nick’s officers found Pop flat on his back on the sidewalk. He could have frozen to death out there while I was sleeping.”

“Oh no,” Tess said, tears welling up in her eyes. Wyatt was tearing up, too.

“He was in the hospital for several days, almost a week. He had broken ribs and a broken shoulder. And some mild frostbite. When he was nearly ready to come home, he told me he wanted his home to be in the senior facility next to the hospital. He didn’t want to burden me anymore. To tell you the truth, I was relieved. But I also felt like a failure, you know? My parents were upset about it, too, but we all knew it was the best thing.”

“You couldn’t care for him at home anymore,” Tess said. “As much as it hurts to say that. It was time. Joe knew it.”

Wyatt wiped away a tear. “Sometimes, he forgets he lives there,” he said. “Like yesterday. He gets mixed up. But he’s always happy when he gets back. And the most important thing—he’s safe there. The staff is on duty twenty-four seven, and the doors are locked. Nobody gets in or out after five o’clock without a staff member opening the doors.”

Tess squeezed Wyatt’s hand. “You are a good grandson,” she said, her voice shredded by her own tears. “You did right by him, the best you could. He’s very lucky to have you.”

Wyatt smiled. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’d say I’m the lucky one.”

Tess knew how he felt. Such a caring man, devoted to his family. She felt that same kind of luck sitting across the breakfast table from him.

They were finishing their breakfast when the dogs came rushing into the kitchen barking, just before a knock at the back door. Tess saw him through the window. It was Nick.

And just like that, their idyllic night and morning, away from the mystery and horror surrounding La Belle Vie, was over.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE



Wyatt poured a cup of coffee for Nick as Tess cleared the dishes off the table. They all took seats around it.

“Sorry to have to displace you last night, Tess,” Nick said. “You’re free to go back anytime you like.”

“Okay,” Tess said. “It was no trouble. So, what did you find? Do you know anything yet?”

“Only that it’s blood,” Nick said. “Old blood.”

“Are you going to do a DNA test on it?” Wyatt wanted to know.

“Yeah,” Nick said, and sipped his coffee. “It may take a week or so to get the results from the lab in the Twin Cities, but it’s on its way there now.”

“Anything else you can tell us?” Tess asked. “I mean, are you doing an investigation . . . or what?”

“Well,” Nick said, scratching his head. “That’s a yes and no answer. There were fingerprints all over the place, and we’re going to run those, but I really don’t think those are going to reveal much. We know for sure it’s not a recent crime scene. But, for that matter, we don’t know if it even is a crime scene. We don’t know how that blood got there. For all we know, your grandfather or somebody else could have cut themselves somehow, had some sort of bad accident, and bled all over the place, sopping it up with the rags.”

While that made perfect sense to Tess, the tightness in her stomach and the darkness that was closing in around her told her it simply wasn’t the case. It was no accident.

Nick went on, “Whatever happened, it is likely the reason your grandmother sealed off the studio. But again, without her around to tell us anything, we’ll probably never really know. We can talk to your dad to see if he can shed any light on it, but that’s about as far as the trail will go.”

Tess and Wyatt exchanged a glance. He nodded. So he had been thinking the same thing.

“There might be another way,” Tess said.

Nick looked from Tess to Wyatt and back again. “What way?”

Tess took a deep breath. “The paintings we found,” she said. “They seem to tell a story. And not a very pretty one.” She caught Wyatt’s eye. “I—we—think it might be related.”

“Okay,” Nick said, elongating the last syllable. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“It would be better to show you,” Tess said. “But only you. No other officers. I’m not supposed to show them to anyone.” Although, to be fair, so many people knew about them now, they were hardly a secret. She thought for a moment before continuing. “I have some pictures on my phone, but they don’t really do the paintings justice. Better you see them in person.”

“Got it,” Nick said. “I need to take care of some things right now, but I can be to your place in about an hour, if that’s convenient.”

“Sure,” Tess said. She turned to Wyatt. “Will you come, too?”