Rad was silent.
Holt rarely spoke in detail about his sister. The absence had always felt too large to manage cleanly. But here it was now, turning up in an evidence bag on his kitchen table after being found in the wreckage of Margo’s shop.
“I thought it was lost forever,” Holt said.
“And now it turns up in Teacups.” Rad eyed the baggie.
“Which means one of three things. Either it was missed by forensics, which I find highly unlikely, or it was dropped there after the scene was processed, or it was planted.” Holt’s gaze stayed on the bracelet as if mesmerized by it.
“You think it was planted to frame Sienna?” Rad’s brows shot up in surprise.
“Possibly.” Holt rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Or it could have been planted to point us toward the Morrisons for a different reason, or someone could have gone back to Teacups after the fire, looking for something, and lost it then.”
Rad considered that. “None of those scenarios look good for Sienna.” He glanced at the baggie again. “Or the Morrisons in general, if they really had stolen jewelry.” He blew out a breath and ran a hand over his face. “How do we handle that, Dad?”
“Carefully and tactfully,” Holt advised. “For now, we keep the origins of the bracelet to ourselves.”
“Agreed,” Rad said, his eyes still on his father. “How on earth would the Morrisons have kept the jewelry hidden for all these years?” He shook his head. “Surely they would’ve known you’d find out sooner or later. This town is tiny, and someone was bound to notice, especially with Sienna wearing it and flashing it all over town.”
“I think the reason Sienna was so frantic about losing the bracelet was that she wasn’t supposed to be wearing it,” Holt suggested. “That is why we have to proceed with caution.” He looked at Rad. “Please lock these items in the hidden safe in my office with all the original pieces of evidence.”
“I was going to do that,” Rad told him.
“Rad, I also need you to get the names of every forensic officer and technician who processed Teacups. I want them in my office with all the scene photos.” He downed what was left of his now-cold coffee.
“I’ll arrange it.” Rad pointed to the items on the counter. “Can I take them?”
“Of course.” Holt slid the evidence toward Rad, who scooped it up and shoved it into his jacket pocket. “Make sure no one at the police station sees the items. Especially Chief Morrison.”
“Understood.” Rad held Holt’s eyes. “Dad… does this mean Sienna could have started the fire? If the bracelet was missed by the forensic team, I mean.”
“I honestly don’t know yet.” Holt shook his head, frustration weighing on him. “And I’m not going to accuse her of anything based on a bracelet that shows no sign of fire or smoke damage.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think for a minute that the forensics team missed it. Those people know what they’re doing.”
“So you think the more plausible explanation is that it was dropped or planted after the fact?” Rad bit the side of his mouth thoughtfully.
“That’s the more likely scenario,” Holt confirmed. “And if so, somebody is either trying to mislead us or flush out a thief who is possibly tied to the fire.”
“That still points toward the Morrisons,” Rad pointed out.
“Or us.” Another thought hit Holt. It made little sense, but he could not rule anything out. He leaned back in the chair. “The jewelry can be traced right back to our family.”
“Why would anyone want to frame our family?” Rad looked a little startled.
“I’m not sure, son,” Holt admitted. “But we can’t take it off the table.” He looked at his son. “Especially when you’ve been the target of incidents over the past few weeks.”
“You think I might be a target?” Rad pursed his lips and tapped his pocket where the evidence items were.
“Son, I’m not trying to alarm you,” Holt told him. “But look what’s happened to Margo, Lucy, and Lacey. I know that you,Margo, and Willa were reopening the fire cases from ten years ago.”
“I know you’re aware of that,” Rad pointed out, his eyes narrowing with worry. “If I connect the dots, it takes us right back there. Ten years ago.” His frown deepened. “I can’t understand why Detective Frost closed the case down so abruptly only a few weeks after the fire.”
“I’ve been trying to reach Detective Frost,” Holt told his son. “But so far, his cell phone has been cut off, and the police department he was supposed to transfer to said he’s not due to start there for another few months.”
“Maybe he took a few months of vacation?” Rad suggested. “He and his father had a huge falling out after his mother’s death.” He shrugged. “Maybe he went to patch things up with his father?”
“I did call his father, Alvin Frost,” Holt admitted. “We were at school together when I still lived here in Sandpiper Shores.”
“And?”
