“Whose cabin did Gilbert lock...” Holt stopped mid-sentence, his heart squeezing with sympathy for Willa as he realized how painful this topic must be for her.
Willa gave him a sad but understanding smile. “It’s okay. The cabin that Gilbert locked them in was the one he’d rented for the summer in the forest. It was the most secluded one.” She shook her head, and her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “But there was something very strange about that situation, and it’s one of the things I pointed out that no one seemed to listen to.”
“Which was what?” Holt asked, leaning forward with interest.
“There was a key lying on the ground outside the cabin after the fire was extinguished,” Willa told him, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Nigel took it and then dismissed it, saying it must have been a spare key since another key was found in Gilbert’s pocket after they recovered his body.”
“What did the forensics team conclude about the keys?” Holt asked, though he was beginning to suspect he knew the answer.
“Nothing meaningful,” Willa replied, her answer confirming his fears. “They just noted that both keys were legitimate keys to the cabin, and that vacation rental guests always receive multiple keys while the rental office keeps additional copies. The receptionist at the main office to the camp and cabin sitesaid that Gilbert had requested a spare key. But couldn’t tell me when, or even if, it was Gilbert who had collected it. She was just blank on all accounts.” Frustration filtered into her voice.
“Tellyou?” Holt asked.
Willa nodded. “Yes. When the chief and Nigel stopped the investigation…” She swallowed and cleared her throat. Holt could see she was having trouble with this, but she pushed on. “So I started my own investigation. But it came up short. Then I got reprimanded by Chief Morrison and Nigel.”
“So you stopped investigating?” Holt said. “All the notes on the fire folder are from your own investigations?”
“Correct,” Willa confirmed. She leaned forward. “Director Dillinger…”
“Please call me Holt,” Holt told her.
She gave him a tight smile. “You need to relook into Cynthia’s car. I got the distinct feeling the mechanic that looked at it wasn’t telling the truth.”
“Did you mention this to Nigel and Tom?” Holt asked.
“I did raise it,” Willa said with a nod. “But by then I was already in trouble for going rogue, as Nigel said, so I was told to back off, and they did nothing about it because the case was closed.”
Holt’s brow rose, and he nodded. “That was thorough of them.” He drawled sarcastically, understanding now why Willa had tried to insist the case investigation continue. What he really wanted to know was why Nigel Frost hadn’t pursued such obvious leads.
“That’s what I thought too,” Will agreed with him.
He watched her, and his heartstrings tugged as his protective instincts kicked in so powerfully that he had to stop himself from going over to her and hugging her, then letting her know he was on this now and would figure it out. It was obvious to him that she still didn’t have the closure she needed from her husband’s death. Looking at all the evidence, Holt couldn’t blame her, and he knew how that felt. The loose ends that no one else saw as loose ends, but just pieces of threads that meant nothing to the case. Them being put down to their grief and needing to have someone or something to blame for the untimely loss of a loved one.
“Has anything strange been happening around town recently?” Holt asked. “Other than the shelves collapsing, the filing cabinet incidents, and Rad getting stuck in the records room?”
“Margo’s coffee shop was broken into about a week ago,” Willa told him. “But she didn’t file an official police report because she wasn’t entirely sure it was actually a break-in. There were no signs of forced entry, and she thought maybe she’d just forgotten to lock the door properly when she left that night.”
“Margo forgot to lock her business?” Holt asked skeptically. “That doesn’t sound like the Margo I know.”
“That’s exactly what I told her,” Willa said emphatically. “I know Margo extremely well, and she triple-checks the stoves, the lights, the locks, absolutely everything before she goes home each night. She’s incredibly thorough about security.”
Holt nodded, making another note. “Has anything else happened to Margo recently?”
“Yes,” Willa said grimly. “The same night my tires were slashed, so were hers.”
“Your tires were slashed?” Holt almost choked, his protective instincts immediately on full alert.
“Yes, just a few nights ago,” Willa nodded matter-of-factly. “I didn’t want to make a big deal about it or worry my family. Before yesterday’s fire and the accident with Chief Morrison’s head injury, I honestly thought it might just be the usual summer teenage pranks we sometimes see with increased tourism.”
“And now?” Holt asked, though her expression already suggested she’d changed her assessment.
Willa reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I found this on my windshield this morning.” Before handing it to him, her eyes narrowed seriously. “Please don’t mention this to anyone in my family, especially my mother or Aunt Carmen.”
“Willa...” Holt started to protest.
“Look, I’m trusting you with this because I believe you can really help me solve this case,” Willa said firmly. “Ten years ago, I was never convinced that Gilbert Fry was the arsonist. And everything that’s happening now suggests I might have been correct about that.”
Holt nodded reluctantly. “Okay, I’ll respect your wishes for now. But if this situation starts to escalate beyond what we can handle...”
