‘Of course,’ he said, pushing the hair out of his eyes.
‘Why would your dad have gone past the oak tree?’
He looked surprised that she knew about the unspoken rule, but he quickly shook his head.
‘I don’t know. He’d never done it before.’
Satisfied that there were no more answers to gain, she thanked Donna for the coffee.
‘We’ll leave you in peace,’ she said, standing. ‘And we can see ourselves out.’
Donna nodded and put her arm around her boyfriend’s shoulders.
As she headed for the car, Kim had to wonder if the couple would even survive. Surely resentment would figure somewhere down the road?
* * *
‘No, I still haven’t forgiven you for this little stunt, in case you were wondering,’ Bryant said once they were in the car.
‘It was a coincidence. I felt unwell,’ she said, pulling on her seat belt.
‘Bullshit,’ he coughed into his hand. He tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. ‘You know, I don’t get you. When folks say they didn’t do it, you don’t believe them. And when they tell you they did it, you don’t believe them either.’
‘There’s something in my gut, Bryant.’
‘We’ve worked together for years. Trust me when I tell you there’s nothing here.’
‘My gut’s been with me a lot longer than you, and it hasn’t steered me wrong yet.’
‘I give up,’ he said, starting the car.
Kim couldn’t help but wonder if there was some way to put this family back together. Maybe if she could somehow disprove the curse, something could be salvaged. She took out her phone and called the only person who could help.
‘Jesus, what are you doing now?’ Bryant moaned.
Kim shushed him as the detective constable answered the phone.
‘Hey, Stace, have you ever done a family tree?’
Thirty-Two
There were very few times that Stacey questioned direct instructions from her boss, but this was one of them. She was still reeling from the fact that all the animosity and hate between the Stouts and the Hubbards originated from a curse made a hundred years ago. It didn’t matter how many times the idea travelled through her brain, it was still ludicrous.
She didn’t believe for a minute in curses or spells, and if she did, she’d have spent a good deal of time searching for a spell to predict next week’s lottery numbers.
She realised that the boss was trying to invalidate the power of the curse, but she didn’t understand why. No matter what they uncovered about the past, too much hurt had been caused in the present. Someone had been shot and killed. You couldn’t come back from that, and these families didn’t even want to.
The boss had said that Lena Hubbard had refused to talk to her son even though she was now on her own. The hatred was so deeply ingrained a sander wouldn’t fetch it out.
They had their victim and they had their shooter, so why were they wasting any more time on it? Especially after Penn’s group text informing them of the accusation against Daniel Reynolds. Shouldn’t they all be focussing on proving or disproving that? It was a pretty good motive if he was guilty. Maybe Ashley had found out or given him cause to think she was suspicious. Playing devil’s advocate, perhaps there was a reason she hadn’t told him about the pregnancy.
The boss was on her way to speak to Daniel Reynolds about the accusation, and Penn had gone to speak to Ava’s teachers. Stacey was sure she could have been doing something far more productive than tracing the Stout family tree.
But then she remembered the other rare occasions that she’d felt they were travelling the wrong path. There wasn’t one time she could remember the boss being wrong, and, to be fair, they should all be wondering why, despite her confession, there was not one shred of evidence to connect Martha Stout to the murder of the man who had lived next door.
Thirty-Three
‘I still don’t believe it,’ Kim said as they drove. ‘He’s not a paedophile.’
