all.
I let the copy slip out of my hands, and I stared numbly out the window.
Behind me, I heard my husband say softly, “I’m sorry if I made you lose your train of thought, Savannah.”
“It’s okay. I was wrong.”
“Don’t let me off the hook that easily,” Zach said. “I know better than to interrupt you when you’re thinking.”
“I just don’t get it,” I said. “I thought I had something there.”
The phone started to ring, so I asked Zach, “Would you get that?”
He did as I requested, but I zoned him out after that. I kept staring at the codes, trying to make some kind of sense out of them.
I finally gave up, though. I knew I couldn’t force the solution, just as I couldn’t force one of my puzzles.
“Who was that?” I asked as I finally met my husband’s gaze.
“Barton Lane. He wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“What did you tell him?” I felt bad about hanging up on the man, but when a thought comes unbidden, it’s best to grab it with both hands.
“I didn’t have to say anything. He’s coming up, so make yourself presentable.”
Oh, no. Now I’d angered our host. Was he going to evict us, even when we were on a tight deadline to solve his assistant’s murder?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rude to him,” I said. “Was he really upset?”
“I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t,” Zach said.
“If we get booted out tonight, we could always go to the Motel 6.”
“Or we could share Davis’s couch. It’s not too bad.”
“I get the pillow,” I said.
“I’ll toss you for it.”
There was a knock at the door, and I noticed that though Zach was more than a little distracted, he still asked, “Who is it?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then we both heard a voice say, “It’s Barton Lane.”
Zach looked at me for confirmation, and I nodded. It sounded like Barton, though I didn’t know his voice that well. That’s when it hit me. Regardless of how insane it must be, his voice was quite a bit like someone else I knew, someone I cared about a great deal.
Zach must have noticed something in my expression, because he didn’t open the door. “Are you all right, Savannah?”
“I think I’m losing my mind,” I admitted.
“What is it?” There was real concern in his voice, and I loved him even more for it.
“I’m about to do something stupid, and there’s a one percent chance I’m right, and a ninety-nine percent chance I’m about to make a complete fool out of myself.”
“What does your gut tell you?”
I thought about it a split second. “That I’m right.”
“Then go for it, and let the consequences fall where they may.”
“Excuse me, but may I come in?” Barton called out.
That sealed it for me. How had I not heard it before? Could it be that over the telephone, and in person, his voice was somehow changed, but through a closed door, the nuance of it came out? It didn’t matter anymore.
“Sorry, of course you can. Come on in,” I said as I opened the door.
“Thank you.”
After he was in the suite, and the door was closed behind him, I said, “I’ve got something of yours I need to return.”
“You found the necklace after all?” he asked, his voice full of hope.
“No, that still hasn’t turned up.”
“Then what is it?”
“Ten thousand dollars. My mother didn’t spend it, and I don’t think it’s right that I do, Uncle Jeffrey.”
He frowned for a few moments, and then he said softly, “Pardon me? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I wasn’t about to let him get away with it, though. “I just spent a day with Uncle Thomas, and while there isn’t much family resemblance between the two of you, I can hear his voice when you speak. I’m willing to bet that Barton is my uncle’s middle name. Should I call Uncle Thomas and find out?”
Barton Lane slumped down, and I knew I had him. “That won’t be necessary. It’s true. I’m your uncle.”
I didn’t know what he was expecting, perhaps a tongue-lashing and a scolding, but he was clearly surprised when I wrapped him in my arms. “Why did you stay away so long?”
“I had no choice,” he said. He finally managed to pull away from me, and I could see that his face was flushed. “You understand, don’t you?”
“I don’t have a clue what’s going on,” I answered honestly.
“No one told you? There weren’t horrible tales of J.B.,