“Who is this woman in the photo with Mr. Jamison?”
She hurried over to the fireplace and studied the photograph. “Why that’s Mr. Jamison’s Aunt Helen. She raised him after his mother died. His father was far too busy to see after a child. Helen took care of him until he was off to university. He actually thinks of her as his mother.”
And what would a mother do to protect her son?
Vera had never been a mother, but she had a feeling she knew the answer. This was the piece of the puzzle they had been looking for—the one that might just push them over the finish line.
Bent gave the lady one of his cards and urged her to have Jamison call as soon as possible.
With Bent navigating the drive back to the gate, Vera asked, “Are we going to interview Helen Carter again?”
“No.” He glanced at Vera. “We’re going to arrest Helen Carter and her accomplices.” He braked at the gate to wait for it to open fully. “At least we’re going to make them think that’s what’s happening.”
Vera chuckled. “That should get a reaction.”
The three would be questioned until properly agitated, then they would turn on one another and the truth would rise to the top—just like churning butter. Vera couldn’t wait to watch the show. It was one of the most satisfying parts of police work—seeing all your hard work push the whole story into the open.
Bent made the call to Deputy Hastings. She and a team of four other deputies were to go to the Carter property and wait for the sheriff.
Talk about a Saturday surprise. Vera stared out the window at the passing landscape. She thought of all that had happened this week. The lives that were lost ... the ugly secrets uncovered. Sometimes she wondered if it was better to live your life never knowing these things. As a detective and then a crime analyst for so many years, she had seen just about everything imaginable. She wondered now how much that had changed her life view. She’d always assumed it hadn’t. Her workwas just that—work. But maybe her work was the reason she’d avoided full-on commitment all this time.
She glanced at Bent. That, she decided then and there, was going to change.
Bent’s cell phone sounded off with another call. “What’s up, Olson?” He listened for what felt like forever before he ended the call. He turned to Vera then. “They found no other gates or forms of entry in that twelve-foot fence surrounding the Wilton property.”
Vera dropped her head against the seat. “Maybe our killer or killers climbed over the fence.” The easiest way would have been to shut off the cameras and go through the main gate, but that would have been a huge red flag right off the bat.
“Or flew in.” Bent glanced at her. “Olson found a small clearing in the woods less than half a mile from the cabin. Nothing large enough for a helicopter—”
“But maybe perfect for one of those mini helicopters,” Vera offered. “And guess who has access to one?”
“Tell me there was a photo.” He sent her a hopeful look.
Vera nodded. “In that same grouping with the photo of his dear Aunt Helen.”
Bent smiled. “Maybe dear Aunt Helen can help us put this all together.”
Vera had a feeling the rest of the morning was going to be even more interesting. That said, this latest development potentially changed up everything. It was possible—based on his relationship with Wilton’s first wife—that Gill Jamison was their killer. But why wait two years for his revenge? If he believed Lena’s death was murder, why not go to the police or confront Thomas Wilton before now? And why had Wilton waited almost the same to report Quantum Leap as a scam? There had to be something more. Something else they were missing.
A frown worked its way across Vera’s forehead. The suspects with the most immediate motive were Erwin, Helen, and the others. Thosefour stood to lose now. Unlike Jamison, they didn’t have trust funds to fall back on.
In the end, however, was money a strong enough motive to turn someone like Helen Carter into a cold-blooded killer? Or any of the other three, for that matter. Well, except Erwin. Vera wouldn’t put anything past that one.
The sound of her cell phone ringing deep inside her handbag had Vera reaching for it. She instantly recognized the number.Erwin.
“Vera Boyett.”
Bent glanced at her with a questioning look.
“I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
Vera tried to read the inflection in the other woman’s voice. Worried. Frightened. Something on that order. “I’m a little busy right now, Valeri.” She thought of the interview with Helen Carter. Vera really wanted to be a part of that. “Can this wait?”
“No. Please, can you come now?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. “There are things you need to know. This can’t wait. Please.”
“I’m on my way. Maybe fifteen minutes before I can get there.”
Erwin thanked her, and Vera ended the call. As much as she wanted to ignore the woman, her instincts warned that wasn’t the smart move.
