Bred in the Bone (Widow's Island #4)(3)

Two months ago Cate had been shot on the job as she waited for someone to answer her knock; the agent with her didn’t survive.

Jon Gill’s door opened when they were ten feet away, making her heart rate skyrocket.

His hands were empty, and Cate sucked in deep breaths to slow the beating in her chest.

How can I return to my job if I can’t knock on a door?

Jon Gill appeared to be in his seventies. White tufts of hair surrounded a bald crown. The thick lenses of his glasses distorted his eyes as they looked from Tessa to Cate. He scowled at her. “Who’s that?”

“I’m Cate Wilde, Mr. Gill. I left a few messages for you last week.”

His face cleared. “Ah. Jane’s granddaughter. You’re the FBI agent that was shot. She talks nonstop about you and Logan.”

Cate didn’t know what to say. Thank you?

“Can we come in, Jon?” Tessa asked.

He stepped back and waved them in, and they sat gingerly on an ancient couch in the tiny living room. He took a seat in a wooden rocking chair and crossed his legs. His scowl had returned, a look of suspicion in his magnified eyes. “What’s going on? First the FBI calls me last week, and today it’s you.” He glared at Tessa.

“This isn’t related to Cate’s calls last week,” Tessa began, her voice steady. “Brad was in a bad accident a few hours ago, Jon. I’m sorry, but he didn’t survive.”

The man went very still, his face instantly pale, but no emotion appeared. “What happened?” he asked in a flat voice.

“It appears he was hit by a car while on his bike.” Tessa paused. “It was a hit and run.” She leaned forward, holding Jon’s gaze. “We’ll find who did it,” she said emphatically. “The island isn’t that big.”

Cate let out the breath she’d held since Tessa started to talk. She watched Jon closely, expecting signs of distress.

They didn’t appear.

“I didn’t do it,” he stated firmly.

Cate stopped her jaw from dropping open. How bad was his relationship with his son?

Tessa flinched. “I . . . I appreciate that, Jon. I didn’t come here to make accusations; I’m here to bring you the news.”

“You can check my truck. There would be evidence, right?” His gaze jumped between the women several times.

Tessa looked at Cate, her eyes wide. The deputy was speechless.

“If you’d like, we can look at your truck,” said Cate. Might as well address his concerns.

He was out of his chair before she finished speaking. Cate and Tessa were slow to stand but followed him outside and over to a small Toyota pickup. They dutifully circled the truck and examined the front. Tessa snapped a few photos.

Jon watched, his arms crossed on his chest. “I might not get along—have gotten along with Brad, but I wouldn’t run him over.” His eyes had reddened and were wet. “I always knew he’d come to a bad end.” He slowly shook his head, his gaze on the ground. “Had demons, you know? Tried to get clean a few times, but it never stuck.”

“I’m very sorry, Jon.” Tessa touched his arm. “Let’s go back inside.”

They took their original seats.

“When was the last time you saw him?” asked Tessa.

Jon scratched his chin, his face screwed up in thought. “Must be close to a month. Ran into him at the Black Tail. He mouthed off, and I left without getting my coffee. He was stoned, of course.”

“You knew he lost his license.”

“Yep.”

“Do you know where he was going a couple of hours ago on Samuel’s Road?” asked Tessa.

“Nope.” He tipped his head and eagle eyed Cate. “Why are you here? You wanted something last week—you couldn’t have known this was going to happen.” He paused, alarm crossing his face. “Or did you? Was Brad mixed up in something bad?”

“I didn’t know anything about Brad last week, Mr. Gill. I was calling about a different matter.”

“Oh. What was it?”

Cate and Tessa exchanged a look. “I don’t think this is the appropriate—”

He grunted. “You two told me the son who I considered dead ten years ago has actually died. Don’t try to tiptoe around my feelings. My heart scabbed over decades ago. What’d you want to ask me about?”

She believed him. “It’s about the orchard property you used to own.”

“It’s a cursed piece of land. I heard that fancy developer who was building a hotel on the land was arrested for murder. No good comes to anyone associated with it.”

“You ran it successfully for decades,” Cate pointed out.

“Until I didn’t. Had to walk away fifteen years ago. Bank took it.” He looked broken. “Got nothing to show for decades of work.”

“I’m sorry,” Cate said, his words about a curse echoing in her head. “Can you tell me who worked for you or had access to the property twenty years ago?”

“You’re going to have to be more precise about the date than that.”

She told him the month and year of Sam’s disappearance. “I know this is out of the blue, but maybe you have employment records—”

“I know exactly who was working for me back then. My son and Arlie Babcock. I don’t hire seasonal labor until later in the year.”