Whisper of Bones (Widow's Island #3)(10)

“There was a wheelbarrow in the shed,” Logan said.

They trooped out to the shed. The tech pointed out several dark spots on the metal edge of the wheelbarrow.

“I’m not going to spray those.” The tech shook his head. “The wheelbarrow is rusty. Luminol works by reacting with the iron in blood. It can also react with other substances. Rust is one of them. So results might not be meaningful, but we can take the wheelbarrow to the lab for further testing.”

They went down the dock and boarded the boat. The luminol reacted in several places on the deck.

“But I would expect to find biological substances on a fishing boat,” said tech number one. “We’ll take samples for additional testing.”

The forensic techs spent another hour preparing samples to take back to the lab. Tessa and Logan had already searched the rest of the house.

“What now?” he asked.

“Now we get a few hours of sleep,” Tessa said.

She locked the house with a set of keys they’d found hanging on a peg in the kitchen. Then they climbed into the SUV, and she backed out of the driveway, carefully navigating between the boulders that flanked the entrance. Once on the main road, she drove to the marina, where Logan’s vehicle waited.

Logan leaned across the console and gave her a quick kiss good night. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She smiled. “I’ll be at the station by seven.”

For a few seconds, he wished he could ask her to come home with him. Death and fire always reminded him of his time in the Middle East. No doubt there was a nightmare in store for him tonight, and sometimes that made him feel acutely alone. But Tessa needed to go home to her mother and sister.

He opened his door and got out. She waited until he was behind the wheel of his dented Range Rover before driving away.

Logan started the engine. His breath fogged in the cold SUV. The trip from the marina to his cabin at the entrance to Bishop State Park took thirty minutes. He zigzagged the switchbacks with care in the dark. By the time he entered his cabin, it was after three in the morning.

Knowing that every time he closed his eyes, he would see fire and death, Logan decided to skip going to bed. He’d have to be up early to meet Tessa anyway. Three hours of sleep didn’t seem worth the toll a nightmare would cost him.

Logan brewed a pot of coffee and took his latest mystery novel to the kitchen table. At five, he changed into running clothes and jogged out to the beach and back to clear his head. After a hot shower, more coffee, and three eggs, he felt mostly human.

When he arrived at the sheriff’s station at seven o’clock, he found Kurt sitting at one of the two desks. His leg was propped on a chair with an ice pack balanced on his knee.

“How’s the knee?” Logan asked as he unzipped his jacket.

“No permanent damage, but Henry wants me to stay off it for a few days.” Kurt grunted his displeasure.

Tessa came through the door with a burst of cold air. Her cheeks were flushed, but dark circles underscored her eyes.

“Everything OK?” he asked.

“Mom was restless last night.” She drank from a stainless-steel travel mug, then narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t look like you slept either.”

He shrugged. He should tell her about his worsening nightmares. Denial wasn’t working for him, yet he clung to it like a life raft. “We’re starting with Jason’s secretary today?”

Tessa nodded. “Yes. We also have Jason’s ex-wife to question.”

“Here is their contact information and some basic background info.” Kurt slid a manila folder across the desk. “I’ve also started reviewing Jason’s financial and phone records. I’ll text you if I find anything interesting.”

“Thanks, Kurt.” Tessa tucked the folder under her arm.

“It’s the least I can do,” Kurt grumbled. “I’m feeling pretty useless. You’re doing the interviews, and Bruce is handling the routine patrol duties. I’m just sitting here.” Bruce Taylor was the newest deputy in the department.

“Reviewing records might not be exciting, but someone has to do it,” she pointed out.

Kurt sighed, clearly unhappy that he was the one.

Tessa and Logan went outside and stepped into her SUV.

“I called Jason’s secretary, Marybeth Springer. She’s meeting us at his office.” She handed Logan the folder. “Is there anything interesting in there about Ms. Springer?”

Logan skimmed the papers. “Not really. She’s sixty-seven years old, drives a pickup truck, no traffic tickets, no criminal record.”

Tessa drove back to Jason’s house. A black F-250 was parked in the driveway. As Tessa parked, the vehicle door opened, and a woman climbed out with surprising agility, considering she stood at five feet nothing and might have weighed a hundred pounds after a really big dinner.

Standing next to her pickup truck, she zipped a bright-pink puffer jacket over athletic tights in a crazy white-and-pink geometric pattern. Her fluorescent-pink athletic shoes matched her fingernails and lipstick.

Logan stepped out of the SUV and joined Tessa on the driveway. They approached the older woman.

“Are you Ms. Springer?” Tessa asked.

“I am, but you can call me Marybeth.” Her sharp blue eyes did not appear to have shed any recent tears.