Kate broke the silence. “What else?”
“This is off the subject of murder,” Jack said, “but Lea told me what great friends Cal and James Lachlan were. I didn’t realize it was so strong. He was a real father to him.” He looked at Sara and Randal. “Did you know that Granddad’s mother cooked for James Lachlan?”
Sara’s face showed her surprise. “Renata? I’m surprised that man she was married to allowed that.” She didn’t want to say the name. She turned to her brother. “Did you know that?”
“I had no idea. I stayed away from Cal’s father. He was a horrible man.”
“He was!” Sara looked at Kate. “Did you find out anything interesting from Reid?”
“Personally interesting, yes, but I can’t see what it has to do with the murder. Although, it makes me glad that Reid is to inherit the property.”
“Did you tell him?” Sara asked.
“No, of course not. We’ll have to do that with champagne.”
“And a lawyer,” Randal added under his breath. He was always leery of the legal system.
They looked back to Kate, eager to hear her story.
For the second time, she told of the eight families coming to America, of the jealous judge, and the quick trial and hanging.
“But Alish married the poor man first,” Sara said softly. “Before the execution.” They turned to her, waiting for her to explain, but she didn’t. “Anything else?”
“Her house was odd,” Kate said. “There was nothing personal in it. No photos, nothing. I didn’t realize it, but I was hoping for some pictures of Greer. Maybe even of Greer and me.” She sighed. “But she did have the brooch.”
Sara removed the old brooch from her shirt pocket and put it on the table.
Randal picked it up and immediately his eyebrows raised.
“Real?” Jack asked. They knew he was asking about the old stone in the middle.
“Very.” Randal put it down as though it was blazing hot—or that he didn’t trust himself with it.
“Reid said his grandmother recently decided she has Second Sight.” Kate didn’t smile, but the two men did. She may as well have said fairies had flitted about the room.
“She’s always had it,” Sara said. “Her entire life.”
“And how do you know this?” Randal asked.
Sara opened her mouth to speak but closed it. She was a writer. Someone who made up stories. In the past, she’d written of her dreams. If she told that she believed her last two dreams were real, that she was channeling someone else’s memories, she feared she’d see patronizing looks on their faces. She loved all the people around this table and it was reciprocated, but she balked at telling them what she’d “seen.”
“Okay,” Jack said when she didn’t answer, “what about you and Rachel?”
“Wait!” Kate said. “I’m not finished. Some interesting things happened last night.”
“You mean the way you were throwing yourself at the entire Lachlan Fire Department?” The looks the others gave Jack said he was being ridiculous. He gave a small smile. “Or do you mean what you and Flynn talked about?”
“Right,” Kate said. “Sheriff Flynn told me something, plus, I had another memory.” She told both stories clearly and concisely.
When she finished, they looked at each other. Her stories seemed to add two new suspects, Billy and Alish. But murder was one thing while what was done to the victim’s head was another. They began to speculate about who could have done such a hideous thing.
“Anyone,” Randal said. “Any person can be driven to the point of insanity.” From his experiences in life, he knew more about being taken to the brink than they did.
“Alish,” Sara said. “She comes up in everything. If Oliver was harassing Greer and calling her names, maybe Alish protected her.”
“By bashing in a head, yes,” Randal said, “but sawing open the skull? It seems far-fetched due to her circumstances.”
Sara glared at her brother. “You mean because of her age? Why does everyone believe that growing old cleanses people’s souls? Mentally sick young people don’t become sweet little old dears just because of the passage of time. And don’t forget that the murder happened twenty-five years ago! We were all younger—and stronger—then.”
