Cara scrutinized her.
She wasn’t talking about Marie anymore. That was as obvious as the identity of Marie’s suitor.
What was going on?
“Natalie.” She leaned forward. “You seem beyond tired today. More like disturbed. Did something upsetting happen over the weekend?”
She sighed. “It’s a long story, my dear. Would you mind if we canceled the rest of this morning’s session? After reading Marie’s last entry, my heart isn’t in the work today. I should also call Paul. Tell him what we found.”
“I’m assuming he’ll conclude his grandfather was the man involved. Even though Marie never identified him by name, the reference to Washington is a solid clue.”
“Yes, it is. I expect Paul will agree. And while his grandfather doesn’t have direct culpability in her death, he did play a role.” She tapped a finger against the journal. “The only identifying comment about him is the mention of Washington, as you noted. We may want to strike that reference from the translation. It’s an irrelevant detail for our purposes, important only to the two affected families. I can scratch it out with indelible ink in the journal too before I turn the set over to the historical society.”
Cara backed up to that section on her screen, highlighted the words “in Washington,” and hit delete. “Done. We can do the same if there are any other specific references in the previous entries too, as we come to them.”
“I believe that’s a sound decision. Now I think I’ll take a quick nap before lunch.” Natalie rose again and carried the journals back to the desk. Secured them in the drawer. “We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow. I’m sorry to cancel the rest of the session for today. We can extend one of our sessions later in the week to compensate, if you like.”
“That may not be necessary, with the excellent progress we’re making. To be honest, I could use an extra hour today to go through all the research material I’ve amassed. That will keep me busy until dinner.” And since her hostess didn’t appear to be up to cooking, a visit to Chuck’s Place might be in order. “Why don’t you let me treat you to the diner in town tonight? We haven’t gone out in a while.”
Natalie’s lips stretched into a joyless smile. “That’s a very kind thought, but let’s decide later in the afternoon. Chuck serves hearty food, and I’ll have to see if my appetite is up to that challenge.”
“All right. I’ll check with you around four.”
With a nod, Natalie left the room.
As she disappeared, Cara set her elbow on the table and propped her chin in her palm.
What was going on with her benefactor?
While she’d claimed her odd mood was due to fatigue, the anxiety radiating from her had nothing to do with tiredness.
Had she had another dizzy spell over the weekend? Could a new health issue have cropped up? Was she worried about being here alone after their project ended? Was it possible she’d had some sort of altercation with Steven?
Who knew?
And unless Natalie decided to share her concerns, Cara would have to resign herself to remaining in the dark.
All she could do was pray that the woman who’d gone from patron to friend during the weeks they’d worked together wouldn’t have to cope with yet more upheaval in her life.
STEVEN BOYER WAS UP TO HIS EYEBALLS IN DEBT.
As Brad skimmed the man’s credit report, he leaned forward in his desk chair and let out a soft whistle.
Apparently his gig as a financial consultant wasn’t as successful or lucrative as he’d led Natalie to believe.
That didn’t explain why he’d be prowling around the woods at night, however.
Nor did it explain why he might have wanted to kill a man whose material assets were meager. How would he have profited from that?
Unless Micah had witnessed clandestine activity on Natalie’s property that the still-unidentified trespasser hadn’t wanted seen ... and that masked man wasn’t a trespasser at all, but Steven.
But if itwasSteven, what could Natalie’s cousin have been doing at such a late hour night after—
His cell began to vibrate, and he pulled it out. Smiled as he put it to his ear. “Good morning to my favorite historical anthropologist.”
“I’d be flattered, except I assume I’m the only historical anthropologist you know. We’re a rare breed.”
“True. But you’d be my favorite no matter how many I knew.” He glanced at his watch. “I was going to call you this morning, but I assumed you’d be deep into a translating session with Natalie.”
