Bred in the Bone (Widow's Island #4) - Kendra Elliot Page 0,6
Samantha was still alive and had chosen to not contact her. And then told her that Marsha thought Samantha had been meeting with the two of them.
“Maybe she’s forgotten some things over the years,” said Tessa.
“Those seem pretty big. Her mental state might be worse than I thought.”
“Or selective memory. Maybe it’s easier to believe that Samantha was meeting us instead of a stranger.”
“She’s expecting her to come home.”
Tessa went silent. Cate did too, wondering what it was like to live in a constant state of waiting.
Tessa broke the silence. “Remember how our police interviews were missing from Sam’s case file? I found them.”
“Where?”
“Can you believe they were misfiled? I had checked to see what else happened on the island around Sam’s disappearance, and I pulled a few cases from the same time period. They were together in one of those files.”
“That’s unacceptable.”
“I agree. But at least they turned up.” She paused. “They aren’t very complete. Both our statements are nearly identical. They simply say that the last time we saw her was at school that day and then never heard from her.”
“They don’t say she asked us to meet her at Widow’s Walk and was planning to meet someone to smoke pot?”
“Nope.”
“What the hell?” Fury rocked Cate. “Who wrote up those interviews?”
“The previous sheriff.”
“Was he deliberately being obtuse or trying to cover up what we said?” Cate gasped. “Did he misfile them on purpose?”
“My thoughts exactly—hang on. I’ll put you on hold. I’m getting another call.” The line went silent.
Cate’s mind spun. Had Tessa discovered a cover-up? Why would the sheriff make so many mistakes? Granted he had been near retirement when Samantha disappeared, and now he had passed away, but there was no excuse for misfiling the incomplete statements.
“Cate? That was the medical examiner.”
“Already? Didn’t he just get Brad Gill’s body a few hours ago?”
“He’s not finished with the autopsy, but I’d asked him to get me the early tox screenings as soon as he had them.”
“And?”
“Brad had marijuana in his system.”
“Doesn’t everyone on the island?”
Tessa laughed. “Some days I think so. But his reading was very minimal. When he examined the contents of Brad’s stomach, he found a chocolate doughy substance. It appeared he’d eaten just before getting on his bike.”
“Pot brownie?”
“Possibly.”
“He could have gotten that anywhere now that it’s legal in Washington. Maybe he made his own.”
“I didn’t see anything when I went through his home this morning to indicate he had made or kept brownies on hand.”
“You’re saying you want to stop by the bakery.”
“I need to put together his last twenty-four hours. Checking with Edith is appropriate to see if he was in the bakery that day.”
“Now? I’m five minutes from the bakery. Would you like me to meet you? I wouldn’t mind some lunch before I interview Arlie,” said Cate as she pulled to the side of the road and prepared to make a U-turn.
“Perfect. I’m starved.”
“Me too.”
Cate parked near the Black Tail Bakery and saw Tessa bundled up in a thick coat against the cold out front. The island had one licensed marijuana dispensary—and it wasn’t the bakery—but Edith Starr had been selling pot-infused brownies under the counter for thirty years. It was Widow’s most open secret.
Inside, the shop was empty. Not an unusual sight during the off season on the island. Edith appeared from a back room as the bell on the front door jingled.
“Well, hello, girls!”
No matter that both women were in their thirties, they’d always be girls to most of the people on the island.
Edith’s wide face lit up, openly pleased to see them. She was a petite woman but suddenly grew a foot taller as she stepped onto the ramp that ran behind her bakery cases. “What can I get for you?”
Cate picked the apple fritter and Tessa the almond croissant. Both requested black coffee.
Lunch.
As Edith rang them up, Tessa asked, “Do you remember waiting on Brad Gill yesterday, Edith? He might have bought a brownie from the back.”
Edith’s gaze bounced from Tessa to Cate. “I heard about his accident. That’s horrible.”
“No doubt it was the fault of the driver,” Tessa continued. “Brad wasn’t impaired,” she added pointedly.
The bakery owner relaxed. “Yes, he was in yesterday. I’m not sure what time, maybe just after noon?”
“Do you remember if he spoke to anyone in the bakery?”
Edith pursed her lips. “Not that I remember. He’s not a chatty one, you know. Rather sullen, if anything. Never has anything personable to say. I did notice he needed to wash his hair,