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Matt cleared his throat. “You all right?”
“Fine.” Kaitlin tried to focus on the papers, but her hands shook just a little. The disruption of a day filled with unfamiliar vulnerability.
He nodded, but his eyes lingered on her face a moment longer than necessary. “Let’s see who we’ve got. Do you mind going over this list with me. What did you find on these people?”
Together, they spread the paperwork across the table, calling out names, comparing lists. Kaitlin shared her insights with Matt, who listened appreciably to what she had to say. Matt made notes and comments on the list about who was still on the island or had passed away. She was impressed by his knowledge of the people in the community.
“The name Jasper Holloway has come up several times. He was in the 1989 files and one of the few from the payroll records I saw for 1990. Is he related to Mrs. Holloway in the town clerk’s office?” she asked.
Matt sat back in his chair. “They’re siblings.”
“That’s interesting. If she’s a Mrs., would they be in-laws?”
Matt looked at her with incredulity. “Interesting you mention that. We’ve always referred to Mrs. Holloway with the ‘Mrs.’. Not sure why exactly. I’ve never met her husband. Jasper works upstairs with Sullivan’s Construction. Big guy, you can’t miss him.”
Kaitlin shuddered, her thoughts immediately going to the silent lumbering figure in the entranceway this morning. “I think I know him. Doesn’t say anything, a little creepy?”
“He’s harmless. He’s a fixture on the island; everyone knows him and watches out for him. I understand he fought in Vietnam, and when he came home, was never the same. Been that way since I can remember.”
A swell of thoughts ran through Kaitlin’s mind, all adding Jasper to her own list of people potentially capable of murder, even as she knew it was the stigma associated with his trauma.
“This is a great list so far,” Matt added. “I can start visiting people. Ask some questions.”
“I would be glad to come with you, if you would like me to.”
Matt scowled at her. Scowled at her! “I’ll consider it,” he said. “They may respond better to me on my own…”
“You mean they wouldn’t want to talk to an outsider? Well maybe they’d rather, instead of jumping into a murder investigation the whole island knows you’re working. Better than having Agent Cook go with you.”
Matt rose to his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I thought you liked him. Weren’t you out with him the other night?”
She blushed deeply. The date the other night was one of the least memorable in years. Cook had been out for one thing, which he didn’t get.
“My offer stands,” she replied, gathering the day’s materials and organizing them on her ‘finished’ section of the room.
When she looked up, Matt was watching her unreadably. She wondered if he could see the flush in her cheeks. He pulled on his jacket and gathered his paperwork, turning to leave. “I’ll let you know. Thanks for the help. This is a good start.”
With that, Kaitlin was alone again. The mansion seemed to settle around her as dusk crept in, its ancient walls holding their secrets close for a little longer.
Chapter 8
The cottage windows rattled against their frames as wind swept off the Atlantic, carrying the promise of another autumn storm. Kaitlin sat curled in an armchair with a woolen throw pulled across her legs, staring at the photograph of her biological mother. Melissa. Or Lisa?
Sleep had eluded her for hours. The discovery of what might be her mother’s name in the birth records had left her mind racing, spinning endless scenarios of what happened to the woman who had given her life. Kaitlin traced the edge of the photograph with her fingertip. The image held no answers, just more questions.
The grandfather clock in the corner, another relic of the cottage’s previous inhabitants, chimed once. One in the morning. Her body ached with exhaustion, but her mind refused to quiet.
A gust of wind howled through a gap in the window frame, and Kaitlin pulled the throw tighter around her shoulders. Deciding a cup of tea would help settle her thoughts, she padded to the kitchen in her socks, filled the kettle, and set it on the ancient gas stove.
While waiting for the water to boil, she moved to the kitchen window. From here, she could see the mansion’s dark silhouette punctuated by the pale glow of the moon. The construction scaffolding created skeletal shadows against the weathered stone walls, like ribs protruding from a decaying beast.
Something flickered in one of the lower windows.
Kaitlin frowned, leaning closer to the glass. There it was again, a brief orange glow, too concentrated to be a reflection. Her pulse quickened. The records room was on that side of the building, in the basement.
She abandoned the kettle and hurried to the cottage door, grabbing her coat and keys. Cold air slapped her face as she stepped outside, the wind immediately tearing at her hair. Kaitlin hesitated only a moment before breaking into a run across the grounds toward the mansion.
The moonlight cast shadows across the lawn as she approached. The front door was locked, but Amy had given her a key for late-night research sessions. Her fingers trembled as she fitted it into the lock and turned it with a heavy click that seemed unnaturally loud in the night’s stillness.
