Whisper of Bones (Widow's Island #3)(29)

12


Daylight brought a search warrant into Tessa’s life. By noon, she’d searched four outbuildings at the inn with no sign of a murder weapon or other physical evidence to place Roger at Jason’s murder scene.

Emma signed a statement that Roger had been gone from the farm for a couple of hours the afternoon Jason died. Her statement weakened his alibi, but she refused to commit to more specific times, which frustrated Tessa. But Emma’s background check had been clean, and Tessa gave up. The young woman wasn’t a criminal, but she also wasn’t the brightest light on the Christmas tree.

Roger was being held on charges of kidnapping, assault, and anything else Tessa could think of for his actions the previous evening. As she saw it, Jason had been blackmailing Roger with the falsified soil report. But motive wasn’t enough, and neither was a hole in his alibi. Tessa needed hard evidence to charge him with murder.

She trudged across the grass and found Bruce and Cate in the inn’s garage. Bruce lay on the cement, looking up at the fender of Roger’s purple Porsche.

Cate was bagging tools from a workbench. “I’ve found no obvious sign of the murder weapon. But I’m taking all of Roger’s tools that correspond to the approximate size of Jason’s wounds. Even if he thoroughly cleaned the murder weapon, we might get lucky. The lab might find traces of blood we can’t see.”

“I found a scrape on the underside of the fender,” Bruce said. “And the paint matches the color of the sample from the rock at Jason’s house. Once the lab officially confirms the colors are a match, we can place Roger at Jason’s house.”

“But we can’t prove he was there at the time of the murder.” Tessa adjusted her ponytail. “Where’s Logan?”

“Searching the north outbuildings.” Cate pointed.

Tessa went outside. She spotted him walking toward a stone pump house. He saw her and waited for her to catch up.

“No luck so far,” he said.

“Remember, blood evidence might not be visible to the naked eye.”

“Right.” He opened a heavy metal door. The rusty hinges squeaked.

The dirt floor of the pump house measured ten feet square. There were no windows. Tessa turned on her flashlight. A plastic bag lay in the corner.

“This bag is too clean to have been here long.” Logan used gloved hands to carefully open the shiny black plastic. He opened the top wider. “Bingo.”

Inside were clothes and a pair of boots. Crouching next to him, Tessa lifted a pair of jeans from the bag. Dark stains streaked the denim.

“There’s a piece of rebar.” Logan moved aside a stained sweatshirt. Something crusted the end of the metal bar. “I think we’ve found the murder weapon.”

Triumph surged through Tessa. “Roger Duvall is going down for murder.” She straightened. “Let’s get this catalogued.” Something crunched under her boot. She leaned down and spied a small piece of metal in the dirt. Her heart stuttered as she recognized it. She lifted it by the broken, tarnished chain. A jagged third of a heart. She wiped the dirt from the back of the pendant and read the inscription. Sisters.



Two Days Later

“Looks like it’s going to rain.” Tessa wrapped garland around the porch railing.

“The forecast said it might snow.” Logan climbed down from his ladder.

“It hardly ever snows here.”

“We get lucky now and then.” Logan studied the house. “What do you think? Should I get more lights?”

“I think you’ve already bought every strand on the island.” Tessa stepped back and admired the decorations they’d spent the entire day putting up.

Logan joined her on the lawn in front of the cottage. The house looked magical. Tiny white lights twinkled from every post and rail. Red and green spotlights brightened trees and shrubs. Red bows nestled in the garland draped around the windows and front door, and nine reindeer made of lighted white wire pulled a sled on the front lawn. Logan had even exchanged a white light on the lead deer’s nose for a red one.

“Do you want to light up the chicken coop?” he asked.

“That would be cute, but with my luck, Killer Hen would electrocute herself.”

“She’d be more likely to shock you somehow.” Logan grinned. “She’s clearly plotting your demise.”

“So true.” Tessa laughed.

“Do you want to put up the tree tonight or tomorrow?” Logan wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The freshly cut noble fir leaned on the side of the house, its base submerged in a bucket.

“Tomorrow.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Mom will get antsy if we make any changes at night. In fact, there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to keep the tree up at all, but I want to try.”

Logan gave her shoulders a squeeze. “We’ll try to make this the best Christmas we can.”

“This might be her last Christmas at home.” Tessa’s eyes misted, and her vision blurred. “Really, I should get inside. The witching hours have begun. Want to stay for dinner?”

“Sure. What are we having?”

“Good question. Pizza?”

“Sounds great. I’ll pick it up.”

The front door opened, and Tessa’s mother stepped out onto the porch. She wore jeans, a sweatshirt, and boots. Tessa ducked out from under Logan’s arm and hurried to her mother. Patience ran out the front door, holding Mom’s coat. Distracted by the lights, her mom slid her arms into the sleeves and allowed Patience to settle the coat around her shoulders.