And since she’d intuited the truth, there was no point in sugarcoating it.
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Her features crumpled.
Cara tugged her hand free of his and crossed to the older woman. Pulled her into a hug.
Natalie clung to her, lashes spiky with moisture. “I knew there was something wrong once I realized it was Steven sneaking around at night. I had a feeling it would all come to a bad end.” A quiver ran through her words.
“Let’s go inside. I’ll make us some tea.” Cara stroked the woman’s back, her own voice tear-laced.
After a few moments, Natalie eased away and turned toward the house.
Brad moved forward and took her arm in a steadying grip.
“Thank you.” She sent him a grateful look.
He guided her to the living room while Cara brewed tea for Natalie and poured a cup of coffee for herself and him, but he waited until she joined them before launching into his story.
Both women listened without speaking as he told them about his suspicions and the evidence he’d compiled linking Steven to Micah’s death, along with the information he’d gathered about the man’s finances.
When he got to the part about today’s cliffside drama, Natalie’s complexion lost what little color remained.
“You mean Steven was going to push you over the edge?” Shock rose off her in waves as she turned to Cara and clasped her hand.
“But he didn’t. Once Brad showed up, I knew I’d be fine.”
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.” Natalie touched Cara’s cheek, distress etching deep brackets beside her mouth.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. Steven fooled everyone.”
“And poor Micah...” She pulled a tissue from her pocket. Dabbed at her lashes. “This is an even more tragic story than Marie’s.”
“And we don’t know all of it yet.” Brad rejoined the conversation. “Natalie, do you have any idea why Steven would have such a valuable piece of jewelry in his possession?”
“No. And if his financial problems were as severe as your research suggests, where would he have gotten the money for such a purchase?”
Excellent question.
Perhaps the guestroom would hold some clues.
“Would you mind if I go through his room?”
“Not at all. It’s down the hall, first door on the left.”
He glanced at Cara. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Natalie and I will finish our tea.”
He left the two women in the living room and strode down the hall to Steven’s bedroom, pausing to place a quick but important call en route.
His subsequent thorough search yielded pay dirt.
A headlamp like miners used. Hand-drawn maps of what appeared to be cave passages. An inventory of items, and a letter from Steven’s father. A soiled bag full of stunning antique jewelry. And a dirty, wrapped parcel that must contain the paintings referenced on the inventory.
It didn’t take a genius to do the math.
Steven had intended to sell his grandfather’s World War II contraband on the black market to fix his financial problems.
